I know I mentioned this a while back. It looks like I get an interview next week to see if they will accept me for the program.

A “residential program” sounds pretty bad right? It does to me on the outside. I mean, that’s where crazy people go, or really rich people who get hooked on all the wrong stuff go.

But, I’m not being committed. I’m applying of my own free will. And I have great hope that I will learn some very useful coping and management skills.

Even more than the skills though I am hoping that being around a small group of other women who’ve dealt with the same thing I have, I’m betting some had even more childhood trauma than I did as well, that I will get it through my head (and soul) that I am not alone. That there are others who understand exactly what I’ve dealt with and will always deal with.
I hope that in the process of having compassion for my fellows (feminine version of fellows??) that some of the deep deep anger and shame for myself will dissipate. That maybe the compassion will expand so much that the shame and anger will be pushed out for lack of room and time and will disappear from my psyche. (Okay, maybe that’s a bit woo woo sounding.. but I think everyone understands the point I’m trying to make).

Lastly, just as important to me coming out of 6 months of homelessness, is building a routine. Getting back into the habit of exercising. Eating regularly and well (though I’ve been eating awesome with the friends I’m staying with I’m still not doing as well as I should with the regularity part).
I’m working on building my own routine here but a little help from people who are more familiar with the issues I face will not be ignored!

And I guess one last note/ps. The VA is one of the most advanced PTSD treatment processes in the USA. Goodness knows they have had ample reason to become so. But I have some confidence, maybe almost a bit of trust, in their processes, which means that I will be more likely to go through the sessions/training with an open mind, without asking all the questions that I always have to ask. I’ll trust them enough to do what they say and believe that it might help me and save my questions of why and how it helps for later.

Today I’m a moving sun.

I’m wearing my bright yellow tee shirt, with my white wedge flippy flops, and yellow sunglasses (and blue jean shorts).

I’ll be so bright people will have to shade their eyes at the crosswalk.
😀

When Caryl took me to pick out clothes I fell in love with this colour but up until now I’ve been to shy to wear it. It’s not a colour that blends in with the background (unless you live on the sun).

I’ve taken it off the hanger and put it on several times in the last week but always demurred, no, a bit too bright, no, doesn’t match my skin colour, no… blah blah blah.
Today I put it on and left it on.

Here’s to burgeoning confidence…

Thanks to Roxanne, I finally have a working phone again.

So this morning has been constant calling of various doctors, agencies, and whatever else needed doing.

I now know that a working phone is one of the essential tools to staying connected, even for a homeless person.
All the agencies you work with, the doctors, the food stamps, whoever you might be working with, expect you to have a phone. Even if you’re homeless.
Really.

So, I feel pretty accomplished right now.

Note to universe, don’t ruin my good mood! 😀

My friend sent me money for the registration and the assurance that he was also registered and going to do the race.

So in a few days when the money hits my account I’ll register too.

I found myself surprised today at how excited I was to be doing this. It’s been well over a decade since I’ve done a triathlon and I’m pitifully out of shape. But I enjoyed doing them back then, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to figure out how to deal with the crowds. I don’t know how yet. But there has to be a way.
Once the race starts and most of the swim waves get gone it really isn’t very crowded usually. It’s waiting for the race to start, everyone queued up in their waves, waiting, fidgeting, pushing, crammed together. That gets me. So we’ll see what I can come up with to deal with the issues.

There was a letter from the VA in my postbox today. After staring at it for what seemed an eternity while visions of the rest of my life swam round and round in my mind, I managed to get it open.

It was all official, official letterhead, veteran number, etc etc.

It turned out to be an application for service-related disability life insurance.

Part of me was squeeing with joy, I mean, they wouldn’t have sent me life insurance junk mail that only veterans with service-related disabilities qualify for if I wasn’t qualified would they?

But… after IM’ing with a friend about it I’ve accepted that it’s probably just junk mail. I never thought of the VA capable of sending out junk mail. But there’s no reason why they couldn’t, the federal government is a business after all.

Regardless, I’ll be checking my post box daily for the next week or so, crying, waiting, hoping..* for good news.

*Everly Brothers song