Milestones.

I’ve been thinking about this topic since I wrote the post about not being afraid.

First though, I want to say that my homeless situation probably isn’t typical. I saw the situation coming and was able to enter it on some of my own terms; instead of completely destitute I have a power system that gives delight and lets me stay connected to the world, I have my service dog companion of 13 years, and I have shelter (for now anyway).

Still, I am homeless and I am facing situations that I’ve never faced before.

But I am finding that most of the time, I don’t feel desperate. I attribute most of that to my friends, those that read this blog and those that don’t but keep in touch with email.
I think the worst part about being homeless is being overlooked, ignored, seen but dismissed as unworthy.
It’s my friends that haven’t dumped me because of the change in my living situation, the friends that still acknowledge me, that have kept me from becoming invisible.

I wonder if this experience might not be useful to me.

Before I became homeless, my worst fear in the world was becoming homeless. Losing any contact with the “real world”, being treated like dirt, and because I am already predisposed to believe that treatment, falling readily back into that belief system.

But most evenings, sitting here in the bed of my truck, typing my thoughts into this blog, with Keegan leaning against me, I don’t feel worthless. I don’t feel useless or dirty.

Before I became homeless, I constantly berated myself for not being better, for not being as good as other people, as smart as the other students, as driven, as strong; I was always angry at myself for not achieving more, not being able to function as I did 20 years ago.

Now, I am learning that I can still study, and that while I am behind, I am doing pretty well. I probably won’t be able to catch up, and will likely need to repeat the class, but for some reason, I’m not beating myself up about it. Maybe being homeless is a good enough reason for my inner self to cut me slack. For whatever reason, I don’t seem to be so angry at myself anymore.

I have no idea what any of this means. Or how it might change my life, if it does at all. But it might.

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