Nikki remembers Rev. Al Tysick’s tiny Open Door street drop-in back in the day, when she was 7 and visiting her dad. She has come to know every street drop-in around the city ever since, first because of her dad and then for herself and two siblings, all off and on homeless. “That’s a lot of peanut butter and jam sandwiches – 39 years’ worth.” Pandora’s 900-block and @ourplacesociety drop-in are among the few places where Nikki feels comfortable, safe from the judgmental stares of strangers. “Addiction has touched my life for generations,” says the mother of two. “I’m just trying to survive another day. I don’t think it’s helpful for people to be staring at me and making these assumptions.” Ramped-up and deliberately random bylaw sweeps have had a dramatic impact on everyone’s mental health, she adds. “The city says they want to solve the problem, but for us, it’s like clinging on in a storm and always sliding backwards. It has kept me in this loop that feels like I’m losing ground every day. I can’t focus long enough to think, let alone find housing.”