The Myth of Bootstraps: Why Survival Isn’t Support

Something most people don’t realize is how deeply disconnected they are from the systems meant to serve us. Unless you’ve been inside of them—or in desperate need—you likely don’t know how complex, inaccessible, and disjointed they really are.

Working as a therapist has given me a rare window into this reality. I’ve sat across from people navigating impossible decisions, tangled policies, and chronic instability. Before I became a therapist, I worked across multiple corners of the mental health and housing world:

• As a program manager for adults with intellectual disabilities

• A caseworker in a homeless shelter

• An intern in an HIV/AIDS clinic

• And later, a housing case manager in D.C., trying to support people on the long road to stability

Each role gave me a fuller picture of how our systems are designed to make people work for survival—and how they rarely offer enough to let anyone truly rest.

Take Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI).

People who receive SSDI are not allowed to have more than $2,000 in their bank account.

That’s the limit.

So even if you’re receiving monthly support or help from family, the moment your bank account exceeds that number, you risk losing everything. You can’t escape poverty with $2,000. That’s not a safety net. It’s a trap.

In my role, every client worked. Every one of them. But the system made it impossible to save, to plan, or to gain ground. The idea of “bootstrapping” your way to freedom doesn’t work when the boots are made of policy limits and red tape.

Then there’s the myth of the homeless shelter as a refuge.

When I worked in one, I quickly learned how unsafe and unstable these spaces could be. There were endless rules—just to get in, to stay, to qualify. I watched families share units with strangers, some of whom were dealing with untreated trauma and addiction.

In one shelter, a resident struggling with alcoholism repeatedly endangered others by falling asleep while cooking—once nearly setting the building on fire. The staff couldn’t remove him, and the other residents were forced to weigh their own safety against the risk of losing their bed.

Do I choose shelter or survival? That’s not a choice anyone should have to make.

People imagine shelters as safe havens. They’re not. You often can’t stay during the day. You must be back by a certain hour at night or lose your bed. There’s no guarantee of privacy or protection. And you can’t just walk into another one—each has its own application, criteria, and restrictions.

Back then, we gave clients bus tokens just so they could access scattered resources around the city. But even that came with risk: if you missed curfew, you were out.

In housing outreach, I saw how arbitrary and broken the system could be.

At one point, the local housing list had a 20-year wait. They eventually shut it down. A separate initiative randomly assigned unhoused individuals to properties by pulling addresses from a hat—just to get them off the streets. But again, no support services. No case management. Just a key and a “good luck.”

But giving someone a house without support is not a solution. You wouldn’t do that to your child, your parent, or your friend. So why do we do it to our most vulnerable?

Even the path to that key is a maze. To get housing, you need a case manager. To get a case manager, you have to know which intake building to go to, what time, what day. You probably need an ID. But where do you store your ID if you're homeless? What if it's stolen or lost?

For most people, losing an ID means a quick trip to the DMV. But for someone unhoused, it's a full barrier. You need documents, transportation, access to limited service windows, and often someone to advocate for you. If you don't have those things, you don’t move forward. You don’t get seen.

None of this is easy. None of it is simple. And none of it is “taking the easy way out.”

I once worked with a client for months to help them access housing.

We finally got through the paperwork. They were approved. We were just waiting for the apartment assignment.

And then they died.

Because being unhoused isn’t just uncomfortable. It’s deadly.

When people are forced to abandon their health, routines, and stability just to survive each day, it takes a toll. And there is no patchwork of social services that can replace the foundation of safe, consistent, supported housing.

People often think homelessness is about poor choices. But more often, it's about impossible choices. The ones we never talk about:

• Do I go to the appointment or keep my spot in line at the shelter?

• Do I try to replace my ID or eat today?

• Do I sleep next to someone who makes me feel unsafe or lose my only place to rest?

We tell people to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. But we hide the bootstraps, gatekeep the map, and demand perfection from people trying to survive on pieces.

If we want people to thrive, we need to stop pretending that “resources” alone are enough.

Support is not a luxury. It’s a prerequisite for progress.And until we build systems that understand that, people will keep falling through the cracks.

-Ashley Peterson, LPC