Clearly I'm in a "fantasy" mode for now. All these recent posts about my dolls, and toys, and such. That's just where I am now.
These sweet little things are a kind of defense or maybe they're talismans of peace, and safety for me.
Well, besides my Medicine Pouch.
I'm trying to heal from the years I served my family as a caregiver. That, and my months without a home.
Although I did 'try' to forget all that. Turns out it can't be ignored. It has to be dealt with. I'm figuring my way though it now. No I'm not writing much, but then I don't know what to say. I'm just living for now
Living this amazing life I've been blessed with.
Mind you, sometimes I make 'some' notes about the last several years of this trauma. However nothing that would make sense here. When I'm ready I'll begin to write more stories, and essays on events of the day. For now I'm just getting used to being secure.
One thing I'll say,...I can sleep in beds again. That was a problem at first as I posted a few months ago. When one is on the street you can never let your guard down. You can never lay down, and never, ever really fall into deep sleep.
I am just beginning to do these things again. ...well after a fashion. My guard is still up. Just this morning I heard a slight sound, and was awake, and 100% alert.
PTSD of the streets.
However I am getting a bit better, and that's all that matters.
To my friends out there,...Thank You for everything.
Peace.
3 comments:
I've been kind of getting that impression Sydney - I mean, that hanging out with your trains and dolls, you seem to be reconnecting with some sort of happy inner life. And I'm glad to see that. The tiny world seems to have a restorative, healing effect for you.
I'm also very glad to learn you're getting back into the groove of sleeping easy in bed again. I've wondered about that from time to time, since you've mentioned it before.
I think I understand about issues from the past not going away but needing too be dealt with, 'cause I've heard about PTSD and your experiences sound a lot like that.
I have an elderly parent and I can see that sooner or later I'm going to wind up helping her walk into the valley of the shadow, and I'm not looking forward to it.
I haven't experienced homelessness, but over the past few years I've known some pretty severe poverty. It sucks donkey dicks. Funny thing is I grew up in relative comfort, even privilege, but then I had to be an artist. What a dumb choice, I can't help thinking sometimes.
Homelessness? Been there, done that, for a few months in the early sixties. Poverty? Oh, my, yes. When I finally went home to Mama, I was skin and bones (you could count my ribs through my sweater) and seriously malnourished. Lost my teeth as a result. It was a nightmare, and I'm still not over it 40+ years later.
One little side note -- it was during this period that I was mooching off Walter Breen in Berkley.
Anyhow, it does take a rich fantasy life to survive such events and the aftermath.
ed
Bless you Both.
Thank you.
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