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?

Depression to Violence, What is the Catalyst ?

I think it’s fair to say, we’ve all had times in our lives, where we’ve experienced depression. Very few of us though, experience a permanently depressed state. But even with the wide experience of depression, among the people, the risks and the daily realities of a life suffering with a permanent mental health disability, is completely unknown to most and unacknowledged by the majority.

The fact is, this isn’t a surprise. It wasn’t so long ago, when “people” with physical mental or psychiatric illnesses, were hidden away in shame. Most often, by their own families. The disabled destined to live a life, in the attic or the basement.

Like all areas of science, many improvements in treatment and understanding the needs of physical mental or psychiatric conditions. But not much has changed, in the public’s view of these conditions. This can easily be seen on a trip to the local grocery store. This will be the location where the general public is most likely to come across, those who are disabled in some way.

Eyes turn away, comments are made in whispered tones, contact is avoided, and I dare say judgments are made. Then those who have turned, commented, whispered, avoided, and possibly judged, go home and forget all about it. While those with the disabilities, carry on with their struggle through difficult lives.

Discounted, persecuted, and ignored, is the life of the mentally, psychiatric, or physically disabled. Unacknowledged and feared, is their existence. And to spite the advances in understanding and treatment, we’ve developed softer ways of hiding these the perceived unwanted away. We’ve given them the name, group homes. They are the new basements and attics.

Let us take a “normal person”, we will shun him, laugh at him, make disparaging comments about him, judge him, and discount his every thought and opinion. We will tell him what and when to do life’s required activities. But most often we will set him aside, ignore him, and hide him away in shame. This we will do for years. And all things being the same, when this individual breaks, has an outburst, commits a crime, or an act of violence, we will all wonder why.

 

 

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