Guess it was inevitable. I was writing this afternoon about keeping up a brave face in disability when I fell apart. So much for my stoicism.
This whole experience has been humbling, horrifying, wonderful, terrible and surprising. For a few days in the beginning, I was fine. Then heart palpitations came. I rode that out, fighting off anxiety attacks with thought and meditation. When the final word came that I had no home and didn't know when I'd get one back I took it philosophically. And Strider stepped up, doing all she could to provide a haven so I wouldn't be on the streets. Her tremendous show of compassion and love lifted me for a while and I got to a plateau of gratitude.
Now I've been homeless for 4 1/2 weeks. I feel dependent on Strider for everything and I've disrupted her life and home. I'm terribly guilty and shamed, I'm homesick and stressed over not knowing what will happen, if my belongings are safe, where my belongings even are, or when or if I'll be going home. I was homeless when I was young. It was much easier then. I wasn't disabled. I could drive, or walk anywhere I wanted. And then after crippling up, living alone, with an aide to do the shopping and errand running I could maintain a semblance of independence. Especially after getting affordable housing. But take away all of that and the stark reality is that I'm not independent at all. Which guts me.
And I'm scared shitless that this is going to change things between Strider and me. She's gone so out of her way and over the call of duty to accomodate me, and my unhappiness has nothing to do with being here or with her. I just want to go home and get my life back. I'm tired of losing things, I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of uncertainty. And I feel like an ungrateful huge whining baby for even admitting it all. Fuck me. I'm such an ass. I'm sorry. Temporary meltdown. I just needed to get that out, I guess...
Damn it, I just want my little Hobbit house back.
The Door Is Ajar.
5 days ago