Loud Mouth Brown Girl

I am depressed. I shouldn’t be, I have a beautiful, brand-new apartment, life isn’t that bad. Even being houseless wasn’t terrible. Like it wasn’t the worst experience of my life, it was just another shitty thing, in a long list of shitty things.

The worst that houseless got, was going to the shelter with my mom and being told she couldn’t stay because she couldn’t lay down on the beds due to her disability. That was an eye-opener. This tells me that this isn’t the first time it’s happened that someone couldn’t stay in a shelter because they couldn’t fit in the bed, and so I am thinking about those particular people at this moment.

I am thinking about the people who were on the street outside our safe harbor on two particular nights when we heard gunshots, and wondering if anyone got hurt and whether or not they are okay.

And finally, I am feeling guilty because I realize that the only reason we got this place is because mom has a huge network of housing people who were helping us to find an apartment that would rent to us.

I am thinking about all the people who don’t have a community like ours, to support them and help them through being houseless, and all of this is contributing to my depression. It’s why I’ve been struggling to write.

It’s hard to write anything positive about mental health when you are houseless, it’s hard to be “an inspiration” to people when you feel like a complete flop. I don’t feel like I failed, I feel like I asked for help, and didn’t get it in time. But in losing one apartment, we have a much more stable and manageable living situation and so I’m grateful for that.

Writing this blog has taken a second seat to my being houseless, and I am sorry for that, but also I am not sorry. If I don’t give myself grace for not working every single day to write, but instead focusing my energies on finding a home to live in, who will?

Now I’m here, and I am trying not to rush myself back into working the way I was when I first started this blog. I am trying to set myself up for success by creating healthy boundaries again, which means starting at step one.

One blog post at a time, instead of dozens throughout the week or month. One essay at a time, instead of a whole book. The book will get written one way or another, but I don’t have to rush with it the way that I did with Uncomfortable.

Rushing through helped me release a lot of toxic emotions that I was holding onto. I still fully maintain the entirety of this blog up to this point was written while in the midst of the longest panic attack of my life. Six years is a long time to be living with undiagnosed, untreated PTSD.

Now that I know what PTSD looks like for me, I am trying really hard not to get sick again, not. to let myself fall backward, but instead, push forward by doing everything I can not to repeat old toxic habits that held me back from doing the things that matter. tomy life.

Uncomfortable II: Fundamental Foundations for Mental Health Content Creators was and continues to be about reminding yourself of who you are, and somewhere between “I think I might lose my apartment,” and “We found a new apartment and we’re safe,” I’ve discovered there is a lot about myself that I didn’t know.

I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. People – including myself – were consistently surprised at how “well” I handled everything. Mostly just because I’ve been so calm and relaxed. But the only reason this statement is true is because I’ve had cannabis every single day that we were houseless. I haven’t been without cannabis for a single second of this experience, if I had not had cannabis, it would have been a different situation.

I don’t know what that means for the future. Does that mean that I need cannabis all the time? Does it mean that I can’t handle life without cannabis? Am I addicted? Or did it just help me keep a lid on my heavy emotions, during an exhausting period of my life?

I don’t have the answers to any of these questions, but I will say that I’m glad I’m here. I am glad I am here to ask these questions.

Too many people, too many of my houseless neighbors don’t get the chance to ask questions like this because they are in the kind of situation that prioritizes survival over examination. So I ask for myself, and for those who want to know.

At least I’m here to ask.

I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for the hundreds of friends, family members, and community supporters who helped me get through these last three months. Thank you for that. It feels good to know I’m not alone.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall

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