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17 March 2014

Quiet, and shades

I'm in the computer sciences building. It's spring break here, so by early evening  there are very few people moving around. It's nice to be able to just sit where it's quiet and sort things out. 

I've worried (and written) so much about rent issues, and it's going to take a little time to let that worry go. The issues are settled now, committed to paper. I'll be able to settle myself down once I have my rent account back to normal.

This week I'm forcing myself to take a break and not try to get everything done that needs to be done over the break. I'm over clocked most of the time, so sometimes my system says "enough!" Sometimes I heed the warning, sometimes not. Just for this week, I'm listening and acting accordingly.

My nine weeks of prolonged exposure therapy at the VA ended last week; the idea is that you remember and describe out loud the details of a traumatic event guided by a therapist and record the session. Then you listen to the session every day, and you hear yourself describing what happened and how you felt while you were remembering.

It's tough, but it's a good thing. It's helped quite a bit, even with all of the external stuff that's been going on.

Since I don't have a lab section to go to this week, I'll be free on Wednesday night for the bi-weekly vets house meeting. Which means I have to attend. Ugh. The agenda doesn't change much from one meeting to the next. Like many meetings, it could be summarized on one side of a sheet of paper. We're supposed to interact. Someone usually bitches about something. The house rules get reviewed again. We hear how much better it is here than in any other program. How lucky we are.

No one living in vets house is lucky.

The meetings, I think, do more to remind us that we're homeless than they do anything else. Communication is one way, them to us. I tune out the parts about child support issues, substance abuse, and AA. Lots of guys here have those issues, but thankfully I do not. I have my own issues. 

I still contend that PTSD is not an issue that transitional housing addresses, and it should be. There are lots of guys here besides me dealing with PTSD. 

That being said, I'm not too interested in "the program" any more. It's the same program that could care less if I'm in school. It's also the same program that would have me living on the street again if I hadn't started handing shit back when it looked bogus.

If there's a lesson here, it's that there are times when you can't handle everything on your own. You need help, and sometimes that means giving up some control. (Has being in the program helped me? Of course. Tremendously.) There is a certain point where the program isn't helping any more. Instead it's holding you  back like a ball and chain. 

Eventually all of the therapy and meds and determination get you somewhere, and you can look past the program and see your life outside the fences.

That's the point where the meetings and the ticky tack bullshit rules start to get really annoying. 

I don't want to be in homeless veteran world. I want I be in hacker world and student world, and future is so bright I gotta wear shades world.






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