So far I have everything I need. A roof over my head, food in my belly, medication to take any pains or ailments away, and a supportive group of friends, family members, and allies, who care about my well-being.
I really can’t ask for much more than that.
That being said, not everything is perfect. I clean obsessively. Like every day, because I never want us to return to what was, I never want to risk losing my home again. That being said it’s not an all-day thing and sometimes it takes me hours to get to it, but it gets done at least once a day.
I have come a long way from where I was one year ago today. It’s not a special day, it’s not out of the ordinary. I am watching Fast Million and one, I am writing, and I am using my platform to speak on issues that matter to me. Nothing has changed today, that is different from yesterday, except that everything is different.
My house is a disaster – read my kitchen needs to be cleaned, and I’ll get to it, but first I want to sit down and just enjoy the privilege of being able to. It wasn’t so long ago that we were houseless and homeless and that we didn’t have a space to call our own.
I still marvel at it every day, but I struggle to remain indoors all day long. Part of it is anxiety, and part of it is boredom, I need to go back to work, but I am struggling. I know that I have radical opinions for a leftist – or rather, I have ideas that white, rightwingers, call radical, but the point is, that I don’t want to have to choose between being The Loud Mouth Brown Girl, and myself.
She is me, I am she, and together we are loud about the opinions that we believe matter. I’ve always wanted to be something, to go somewhere, but the more that I look at Hollywood the more that I realize that’s not where I want to be.
I was very nearly murdered, a couple of times. I have been genuinely given a second chance at life, complete with a new apartment, new friends, a new lifestyle, and everything. I’m not entirely sure what I am going to do with it yet, but it’s really wonderful to have.
I want to be worthy of it, to deserve it, but I hesitate to ask for more than I have given so many have so little.
When you’ve been through things that should have killed you, that have killed others, whether it’s war or cancer or someone verifiably trying to kill you, the PTSD is strong.
It convinces you that there must be a reason you’re still around, but the choice is like “Am I here to suffer?” or “Am I here to help others while I suffer?” The desire to help others when you’ve been through something traumatic is strong.
You know what it feels like when you feel like you’re drowning and so of course you want to help others, but that doesn’t mean you’re equipped to help others. There are stages of training you have to go through before you can be released to the public.
I fell into it by deciding to share my story only to have people tell me I was helping them, but I feel like I don’t want domestic abuse, trauma, and torture, to be the end of my tale.
I don’t know what the end looks like, but I know that right now I have the power to mold the middle, and it’s exactly as exciting as I thought it wouldn’t be.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 