For those following Pete’s story — this weekend he tried the night shelter for the first time.

It turned into an emergency.

Pete rang me needing supplies — enough food to tide him over “for two or three days.” But more than that, he needed moral and emotional support. Something had clearly shaken him.

On his second night at the shelter, while sleeping on the couches, he was approached and seduced by another resident. Then the following morning, the same person locked herself in her room and held up the whole place. Staff and residents couldn’t access the area, and things escalated. Pete said the women there quietly came together and advised him to “clear out.” They told him she was off her meds.

It was Pete’s first experience in a shelter.

He called me, and I drove him back out to the bush. He seemed okay — shaken, but steady. We then went to meet with my small inner-circle community — not a corporate office, not a city boardroom — just someone’s lounge room where we sometimes gather. This time it became a debrief space. Grassroots. Simple. But effective.

I’m not entirely sure what to think yet.

At first I was concerned about the risk of potential violence. In hindsight, that risk is probably obvious. One friend described shelters as a “psycho-social adventure” — a place where tensions can run high, where many occupants have lived in that environment for years.

For Pete, it was night one.

That sounds like innocence to me.

And maybe… vulnerability.

But Pete is resilient. He’s adaptive. He processes things quickly. Even after this experience, he’s still moving forward — learning the terrain, adjusting, surviving.

This is not a neat journey.

It’s messy, unpredictable, human.

And through it all, what’s becoming clear is this:

Pete isn’t just navigating homelessness — he’s navigating complex social worlds most of us never see.

We’re staying alongside him. One step at a time.