Feature
Well Don
From the shadows to stability, Don Salmon’s journey from homelessness
to hope.
- Kyle Martin
- Fred Lopez
There’s no refuge when you’re homeless.
Every morning brings an unsettled feeling and a quest to find a safe place to sleep that night,” Don Salmon explains.
“You have to push on, but you don’t know where you’re going,” says Don, who spent six homeless years between Atlanta and Orlando.
Today, Don has a place to call home, a bank account, and a job—things he once thought impossible. It’s been three years since he last slept on the streets, a stability made possible through the unwavering support of Matthew’s Hope Ministries.
“It’s not a guarantee I made it, but I’m making it,” he says.
It’s small things like clean socks and a hot shower that keep Don grateful for how far he’s come.
Don was in his 30s when he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but he didn’t get the treatment he needed in time to stop a cycle of manic episodes. Twice he walked away from stable jobs and into homelessness in a moment of self-destructive behavior.
“You end up in your own world, your own reality,” he says.
Days were spent wandering the streets, followed by nights sleeping in a stairwell or the post office as protection from the cold. Trust in others was hard won in an environment rampant with scams and cons and prostitution. Malnutrition and exhaustion could convert a common cold into a serious illness. There was physical danger, too. Don was beaten with a fence post and spent a winter with sutures in his head and hand. The brain injury only compounded his existing mental haze.
“There are so many dangers you can run across,” Don says.
A stranger’s kindness bought him a bus ticket to Orlando. It was the first time in a long time someone saw Don as a person, and he was surprised and hesitant.
“Sometimes there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and it’s not a train,” he says.
Don wasn’t sure what he would find here, but he reasoned it would be warmer than north Georgia. His initial hope it would be a new beginning proved false. When the bus dropped him off in downtown Orlando, Don sat for hours beside Lake Eola, wishing someone would tell him “hello.” The family and connections who would occasionally let him crash on a couch were left behind in Atlanta, leaving him totally alone.
“It was like being dropped off on the moon,” he says.
Days of wandering recommenced, constantly moving to avoid arrest for trespassing. He found a big box store where he could sleep in the stairwell. But there was no certainty, no stability
Don was beaten with a fence post and spent a winter with sutures in his head and hand. The brain injury only compounded his existing mental haze.
“You’re just in transition on a daily basis,” he says.
About three years ago he connected with the Matthew’s Hope outreach team doing an event in Pine Hills. Matthew’s Hope Founder and CEO Scott Billue remembers that day well. He initially offered Don a Bible, which he turned down. But he did accept a pair of reading glasses, and a Bible after that. As Scott drove away that day, he caught a final glimpse of Don sitting on a wall reading the Bible.
The Matthew’s Hope team returned days later with the pair of jeans Don requested, which often surprises the people they serve.
“When we come back day after day, week after week, it builds up trust,” Scott says.
The more Scott interacted with Don, the harder it was to understand why Don lived on the streets. He was intelligent and articulate, with a strong work background and character. Now Scott knows it was the untreated bipolar disorder holding Don back.
“He’s the same sweet soul today that he was then. But now he can operate independently,” Scott says.
Scott invited Don to Matthew’s Hope for breakfast and eventually an opportunity to join the Moving Forward program. The program offers incremental rewards as participants work toward self sufficiency and independence.
Don took to the program with enthusiasm and completed any tasks given to him by Matthew’s Hope. Occasionally, though, Scott would catch Don frozen like a statue pointing at the sky, or talking with people only he could see. It was a tough situation because as much as they loved Don, nothing was working, and it wouldn’t be long before he would have to leave the program.
Then the bipolar diagnosis came to light, and together they were able to secure the medication Don needs to manage his symptoms.
Don Salmon, shown here with Scott Billue, officially joined the Matthew’s Hope team full-time last December. A true jack-of-all-trades, Don will assist and support wherever he’s needed.
“As a society we throw these people away every day,” he says. “We give up too early on people.”
Scott describes it as “night and day.” “Suddenly this amazing person was there who could talk about anything,” Scott says.
That newfound stability helped Don advance through the Moving Forward Program and even land a job as a spotlight operator at Winter Garden Theatre before it closed.
For Scott, it’s evidence that mental health treatment needs more focus in the United States.
“As a society, we throw these people away every day,” he says. “We give up too early on people.”
Don is effusive with his praise for the organization that empowered him to turn his life around. “If we don’t support institutions like Matthew’s Hope, who’s going to catch people when they need to be caught?” he says.
Don encourages the public to show grace and kindness toward the homeless. He was college-educated, working for a Fortune 500 company before mental illness pushed him into homelessness.
“You never know when things will fall apart. So just be careful how rough you are on people,” he says.
Don continues to build his future one day at a time. A place of his own, some savings, and maybe even a tee time are all on his wish list. Whatever tomorrow holds, Don is committed to paying forward the goodwill others invested in him.
“I have some good left in me to help others,” he says.
