Stepping into the Unknown: My First Night in Ottawa

I arrived in Ottawa in March 2025, returning after years away. I knew restarting life wouldn’t be easy, but I had underestimated just how hard it is to rebuild without support.

I stepped off the plane with no ID—mine had expired in prison, and since I was incarcerated far from home, there was no system in place to help me replace it. No ID meant no phone, no bank account, no way to access even basic services. Add to that a criminal record, no money, no vehicle, and no home, and the odds were stacked against me.

Thankfully, while still incarcerated, I had connected with a support agency. Though their resources were limited, they at least pointed me in the right direction. They arranged a bed for me at a shelter, a small but crucial step toward stability.

I arrived late at night, stepping into -18°C weather wearing only a sweater and pants. Some kind pastors had gifted me a few essentials—shoes, toiletries, a small suitcase—but no winter jacket. The agency had arranged a rideshare and gathered some clothes for me, which were waiting at the shelter.

Walking into that shelter was a shock. I had lived a life of relative privilege before prison—no substance abuse issues, functional mental health. This was a different world. I had to ask if I was even safe there. The answer was yes, but that didn’t make my first night any easier.

Rebuilding was going to be an uphill climb. But at least, for the first time in a long while, I had a place to start.