Plod, plod, plod...
I've settled into a pattern lately. Sleep in the morning, early afternoon (but after lunch hours are over) go downstairs and get my bag lunch. Forage for cookies or other noms to add to my lunch. Eat, maybe downstairs or outside but more likely upstairs in my room. Maybe BS with the couple of actual friends I've made in the house. Around 1630 I head upstairs, get cleaned up for work, and GTFO.
After work, I get home get my saved dinner from the fridge, pour a cup of what passes for coffee here, and see what's on TV. After 0100 or so, usually not much. Chow hall TV doesn't have cable. Or I'll head to McD's if I want to be online, if I'm jonesing something in particular, or I just want to be anywhere but the vets house.
I'm doing a little better making it to work, and within my small circle I've been something almost approaching social.
Don't push yer luck.
I know I should be asleep right now. It's about 0330, I have somewhere to be at 1200, and I'm trying to convince myself to go check out some local metal tonight. Where I'm sitting it's quiet, the kind of quiet where I can hear myself think. This would be a perfect time to get something practical done, except that I'm tired from not getting enough sleep yesterday. The day before, I took half of an Ambien and slept for 13 hours. Who needs a circadian rhythm? (I do, actually, this effed up sleeping cycle isn't helping anything I'm doing.) I've been sick the past few days as well; allergies, a cold, or perhaps both. That hasn't helped much either.
I should be expecting what, exactly?
A few days ago I ran into a friend from work, outside of the building. She said something about some homeless guy that had been in the building, not really causing trouble but looking a bit creepy. I wanted to say "yeah, well I'm a homeless guy, and I'm not creepy". I didn't say it. I thought about it, then let it go. Which is exactly what all of the mindfulness stuff I'm been working on is all about. Me being homeless had no bearing on the conversation, or the situation, so I didn't bring it up.
I'm still working on the idea that this PTSD stuff may be around forever, clanging around in my brain. I have no idea how to bring up the fact that I'm homeless in casual conversation.
Outside of writing my thoughts here, I don't bring it up much at all outside of vets house. When I leave the house, I've been making it a point to leave by the back door; this allows me to bypass the inevitable "You goin' to work? You on the meal save sheet? Blah, blah, blah" stuff that someone yells at me as I pass the chow hall.
Once I'm outside, I'm on campus. Where I should be, where things make sense, where I'm more or less comfortable. More or less meaning, it's summer and so things are quiet. We'll talk again in September. Campus is home.
I want to say I'm feeling "better", and I suppose in many ways I am. My room looks like a tornado went through though (twice), I'm having trouble remembering to take my meds on time even with reminders, and there's a few big problems I have yet to solve. Better is such a slow process sometimes, like walking up a long sloping hill. You don't dare look back, because you don't want to see how short a distance you've covered. You don't dare look forward, because you don't want to see the long distance you have to go.
Plod, plod, plod.
Hey hey everyday..