I probably spent about fifteen minutes outside on my own worshipping the sun a little bit with the smoking of a right and proper pinner joint.
I went outside and the world did not end – people were friendly but we kept our distance as they walked their dogs and I wished for mine.
It’s getting harder and harder for me to leave the house. I told my Psych Nurse yesterday over the phone that I am the kicked dog, genuinely afraid of humanity at this point, staying inside allows me the comfort of the idea that I am safe because the doors and windows are locked.
I worry about what is going to happen in the Summer and I have to open them because it’s too hot to keep them closed. I worry that I will forget to lock up, I worry that I am worried about something I don’t have to worry about for weeks yet.
I even did a little dancing today, that’s a good start. Winter I realize is the worst for me because those years that I spent working in a shelter gave me purpose and made me believe that I was helping the world in some kind of way. It was a thankless job that made me miserable and yet I miss it because there was routine, something I’ve been sadly missing over the last two years.
Eventually I will go out for longer and longer and I won’t hurry home out of fear. I’ll return to my beloved Crossroads where I used to sit and monologue or talk to myself about everything that was going on because it made me feel good to leave it at the end of the path.
Eventually I will find Devon again but I realize today that I am still working on it. I may not be on the front lines anymore but maybe that’s a blessing in disguise given our current global state of affairs. I have a really weak immune system, I would not probably survive Covid19.
I am still searching for purpose in this world that we’re creating for ourselves here, I am not sure what it is that I am supposed to be doing with my life but this feels good. Being stoned and dancing, writing and sharing stories feels right.
The stories are my way of saying thank you to all the people of my past for helping me to survive that gross sex cult and all the terrible things they did to us. They help me heal, and I honestly don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t write any more. If I couldn’t feel the words flow from my brain into my fingers I think I would be genuinely lost in this world.
Maybe that’s because writing is my passion, but maybe it’s my purpose too. Only time will tell.
Until later my loves, remember to dance if you can,
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall