Have You Hugged a Homebody Today?

I stepped out yesterday, to do a bit of shopping. Not my favorite thing, it always heightens my nerves. A noted ,but controllable result of PTSD. This experience is nothing new for me, and can bring things into your awareness that most people would never notice. In every bunch of us there’s some who stand out. Most note someone tall or short, men and women note attractive women and men, and children misbehaving, draw the awareness of most adults. However, and I’ve commented on this before, there are those in the world invisible and missed. I think I see these invisible and forgotten based on past work experience. Along with this awareness given me, when I feel a bit odd from a PTSD response.

These aren’t people wearing funny hats or tattered clothing. That’s not what draws my attention. These oddities are subtle. It’s a look for some. Not the way the face looks, but where when approached the eyes go. But I understand it, I think.

You see, or maybe you don’t, these are people specifically trying to not catch anyone’s attention. It’s purposeful. You’ve known people like these all your lives. You knew them in school, when we called them shy. Some who were once bubbly and out going, may have changed themselves. Myself, I’m am a bit of a hermit now. Where as in my youth, I was very out going.

Whether you’ve known, know, or have noticed these my brother and sister, we are different. there’s no question. Some think we are angry grumpy rude. No, we’re overwhelmed, because we are quiet introspective homebody’s. This means we are hard to get to know.

From my perspective I have limits in the number of people I’m comfortable within a group, and that’s not 200 people moving about in a rush pushing carts in a shopping frenzy. In fact, my personal comfort zone is about 6 people.

Maybe my PTSD has helped in a way, if I’m honest. When I was one of those friendly social group gathering people, I passed judgment, all be it quietly and personally on people who were shy homebody’s. I did this in ignorance then. I was young invincible, living life fast, putting myself in difficult positions. Actions on my part that allowed me to experience, even if traumatic painful and tragic, this change. I’ve repent and understand, my private home-bodied brothers and sisters.

The funny thing though, like everyone else we are just trying to get by. Trying to get along in packed spaces. Trying to not be a bother or even be noticed. We, my antisocial family, aren’t hateful. Most of us, I feel, have good thoughts for our fellows. Some I’m sure, are even envious of the social butterflies out in the world. We are here, all over, waiting on the non-judgmental, the patient, and the calm to note our qualities. We make trustworthy loyal rational. life long friends, not hundreds of acquaintances. We in the end, are simply people. We offer a different perspective.

Have you hugged a homebody today?

The Darker Side of a Human Experience

I find many have questions about my personal issues. They want to know why I call myself a hermit. Some what to know how I became a hermit. Others ask why I feel a need to limit my contact with people, even as I profess to loving all of humanity and the wonders of uniqueness within all people. So, I will attempt to share the truth and whys of this aspect of my life.

There is a time in my past where I lost all faith in the decency of my fellow humans. It took some time for these feelings of fading faith and trust, to degrade to a point, where a single action pushed these issues straight over the edge, for yours truly.

I know I’ve seen more of the darker side of humanity, than most. I think that’s a good thing though. I think, most often, those on the darker side haven’t made an overt or conscious choice to get where they are. With circumstances often beyond youths control, youth as it ages in difficulty and stress, moves towards this, that I call the darker side of a human experience.

My first upset back then, was the effect of poverty. Even in a western culture, under our standards, poverty is a sad state of affairs. It wasn’t the struggle of the adults in poverty that was difficult. It was the suffering of the young whose parents were struggling. It was knowing that there was enough not to end the struggle of the parents but the suffering of the children.

Seeing how youth has changed, and not for the better, when something truly their own, was missing from their life. When others have had good summer vacations with family, but yours was trying to save some change for clean laundry. Knowing other families have leftovers from meals, when your experience is white bread and mayonnaise sandwiches, after scraping together enough change, at the month’s end, for a loaf of bread, isn’t the best place for youth to consider their future.

So I’ve watched what actions become more common and seemingly acceptable as these age groups progress in years. Knowing at the same time, because of various other experiences, that such a life for children doesn’t have to exist . That doesn’t stop the negative advancement. Knowing there’s an answer and having the powers that be take the decision that gives the answer motion are completely different.

My first hit to faith was the no action for the sake of children. My second hit to faith was the young themselves, and the ease at which their ethical actions push aside. But here, I don’t actually see any behaviors that other poor populace’s don’t espouse when impoverished themselves. Maybe I was wrong to hope for better.

These are small issues. The true move over the edge is seeing those youth who’ve become adults in this environment, who now have a real choice in life, as to their direction, choosing to advance their loss of moral and ethical values under the free will of adulthood.

These observations of a communities dynamic came from direct observation, while working at a crappy Convenience-Store. Granted, you do see the best and the worst of humanity in such a place. Honestly though, those best parts of humanity are very few and farther between, than one would hope.

The worst of humanity is what caused my personal change. My lack of trust and loss of faith in my fellow-man, is complete with this, the worst part. That part being those youths who’ve grown to adulthood and not changed their path but escalated their crimes.

I had a friend stop in my work after his work to grab his nightly 16 ounce beer and chat. I had a bunch of customers rushing to buy alcohol, and in queue. My friend said hello to a female customer, and all hell broke loose. My friend was then attacked, by the girls boyfriend, who was also a neighborhood gang member. While this happened others held me back, and seeing an opportunity the customers looted the store. Meanwhile while being held back, the gang members attempted the murder of my friend while I could only struggle and watch.

When it finished, after the looting beating ambulance and police, I cleaned up the puddles of blood my friend had left, and pulled blood spattered products off the shelves, and tried to clean the dried droplets from the windows, and finished my shift. I’ve never to return to the neighborhood let alone the store.

Several months later I testified against the three gang member, at trial. They were, convicted. I lost a friend too. I think that was destiny. I know I suffered guilt for so long, not being able to save a friend from such a fate. I’ve also even though I love humanity, I have no faith or trust in those whom I don’t know. This is why I choose the life of a hermit. These circumstances are why I stay close to home. You see it’s not for me I stay home, it’s for you. Protection is the concern. Protecting you from me. My lack of trust and faith in you, brings me to a full defensive state. A state of mind where the unknowns are a danger and those dangers might cause on my part the inappropriate actions, of which I complain. A loss of morals and ethics, as my body slips into survival mood.

I am kind loving stable and happy when holding down the hermit home front. I am a spring ready to snap, ready to give up my life for those I love, without question, on a seconds notice of perceived danger. I am a hermit, and see myself as an unaccounted for variable when spending time in public. As a hermit I care and I love, in public I’m a time bomb that searches for injustice and crime. I have what I’m told is a special look. Which has now and then served me well. The unknown for other is when that look comes, how close I am to dispensing my brand of vigilantly justice, with a special emphasis on adults who are lucky enough to have children, but choose to abuse them in public. Because the children are innocence, till the world of selfish uncaring inattentive abusive adults, destroys the children from within.

So, Why am I a hermit? I am a hermit for you, so I can keep love in my heart for everyone.

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