Surrounded by foliage and the melody of birds, Michael leans into his iron-wrought chair, delighted to be back home.
Home — to Michael — is Project Lazarus, a New Orleans-based nonprofit dedicated to supporting at-risk individuals living with HIV through housing, healthcare, and comprehensive social services. The 23 residential units are nestled inside the organization, tucked into the heart of the Marigny/Bywater neighborhoods.
He fiddles with his coffee cup, smiling at the chickens that wander the grounds, quietly recounting the journey that brought him to Project Lazarus.
“Every day, I woke up wondering if today was the day I was going to die. And wondering where I was going to die. Because I couldn’t imagine a future,” Michael said.
“I was unable to fight against my addiction. You don’t belong to yourself. I was stuck in the prison of my own mind. In the back of my head, I knew that I needed to stop, but my body could not find a way to stop hurting itself,” he added.
The pain of addiction didn’t end with his own self-negativity. On the street, Michael was often harassed by people who would berate him for his symptoms.
“They would torture me, they would call me names … This is something normal on the streets,” Michael said. Abusive experiences like these impacted him so deeply that he would sink deeper into depression, internalizing the dehumanizing slurs and violence.
For five years, access to medication for his HIV diagnosis was erratic. He would occasionally take advantage of local medication resources, but all to collect a $100 “encouragement” gift card. His health declined rapidly, entering into “pre-death” status.
One night changed everything for Michael, in an instant. He had smoked substances with his friends and experienced an overdose. Michael recalled the feeling of his entire body experiencing paralysis, and seeing the vague shapes of his friends shifting around him, but unable to ask for help or speak to them.
“Addiction fuels fear. Everyone in that room was paranoid. They were scared to ask for help, to call 911, or to distribute Narcan (to treat opioid overdose). They saw me on the floor, and they thought, everyone is responsible for their own deaths.”
That moment triggered his will to “escape his jail”, he said. After that, Michael appeared on the doorstep of Project Lazarus, emaciated, fearful, and struggling with addiction. He arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back and his medical paperwork.
Even after his program acceptance, the mental pain of his addiction and detoxification efforts continued to haunt him during his early days at Project Lazarus. He struggled to participate in programming, and struggled to disengage from his network of friends, which discouraged his participation in the programming.
However, Michael said, the continuous kindness he found in staff members, and the consistency of having a place to live without worry made all the difference. The feeling of being accepted where he was in his journey helped him ease into programming and find peace.
Today, Michael has found his sense of self in tending to the many gardens surrounding Project Lazarus, offering a kind word to fellow residents, and joking around with staff.
Your contributions make stories like Michael’s a reality. Without your volunteerism, donations, online sharing, and support, Project Lazarus would not be able to provide the assistance that can provide a safe space for people to change their lives.
Please consider donating to Project Lazarus today. Together, we can create a healthier, happier Greater New Orleans: onecau.se/_dmp2f1.
