Gary’s journey began in a place of quiet desperation. For months, his car was his home—a cramped, cold, and isolating space shared with his loyal companion, Pedro.
“Living in your car isn’t living,”
Gary explained.
“It’s surviving, especially with a small animal. You just find hidden spots that are quiet, out of the way, and you try not to be a menace to anyone.
Or even noticed. I think that’s the main thing—don’t be noticed.””
To stay safe, Gary flipped the clock on his life.
“I tried sleeping during the daytime and staying awake at night. That was the smartest thing to do for me,”
he shared.
“The nights are long, and the fear is constant. You never know when someone might knock on the window or worse. You’re always on edge.”
Before the pandemic, Gary had worked at MiraCosta College, a steady job that gave him purpose and a modest income. But when COVID-19 hit, everything changed.
“It all just kind of turned down,”
he said.
“You lose your job, your income, and soon everything else starts slipping away too. Starting from zero—getting a job, saving for a deposit, finding a place to live—it doesn’t happen quickly. Even people with full-time jobs are struggling right now. For someone like me, the climb feels impossible.”
The weight of these challenges pushed Gary into moments of despair.
“You see people give up, and it’s hard because you feel like giving up too,”
he admitted.
“It’s just been such a long journey with so many setbacks. Doctors, staff, and the state—they all get involved, and suddenly your whole life is on display. It’s overwhelming. I don’t want to go back to my car; I don’t want to go back to that life. But the fear that things won’t get better is always there. That’s when you have to carry on, I guess. Even when it feels like you can’t.”
Gary’s struggle isn’t unique. Depression affects over six million men in the United States each year, yet it often goes undiagnosed.
Cultural attitudes about masculinity can make men less likely to seek help, contributing to stigma and untreated mental health issues.
Gary’s turning point came after a mental health crisis.
“Everything was different,”
she explains.
“I had an incident, and someone gave me a sheet of paper. On it was the name La Posada. I called, and they accepted me.
I’ve been here about five months now, and it’s made all the difference.”
For Gary, La Posada was more than just a shelter—it was a lifeline.
“They take care of us here. You get fed three times a day if you need it.
There’s a bed to sleep in, a shower, food. Just those simple things
can make you feel human again,”
he said.
“It’s a place where you can breathe, where you feel safe.”
One of the most surprising comforts for Gary was La Posada’s pet-friendly policy.
“Pedro’s been my rock,”
he said with a smile.
“He’s a dog my mom got from Tijuana. When she passed, I took her in,
and we’ve been together ever since. La Posada lets you bring your pets,
which means the world to me. Pedro has been well cared for here,
and I couldn’t ask for more.”
Catholic Charities has a grant to help with the cost of veterinary care for unhoused pets.
Our team helps with appointments, food and pet supplies. This is a very important aspect
of our program because individuals fur-family are the emotional support animals that
help them through the tough times and moments of complete loneliness.
The team at La Posada became an invaluable support system.
“The crew here does an amazing job. They help you figure out what you need and the steps to take to get there,”
Gary explained.
“They’ve given me hope. Without them, I don’t know where I’d be.”
Gary’s ultimate goal is to secure permanent housing, but he knows the road ahead won’t be easy.
“Getting placed into an apartment is huge,”
he said.
“That’s what we’re all striving for here—our own place. But this is San Diego, and everyone knows it’s not easy.
Housing is expensive, and there’s so much competition. If we can get help to move to the next level, that’s what we need.”
Despite the challenges, Gary remains hopeful, a change he credits to La Posada.
“There were so many closed doors before,”
he reflected.
“But Catholic Charities opened one for me. They gave me a chance when I didn’t think I had one.
Without La Posada, I don’t know where I’d be. It’s been a long journey, but now I feel like there’s a way forward”
Gary’s story is one of resilience and hope, a testament to the power of compassion and community.
For him, La Posada is more than a place to stay—it’s a stepping stone to a better future.