The days I've spent out here do their best to rob me of my spirit – along with my underpants.
Sometimes, it's because I only have a few dollars of loose change in my pocket. Sometimes, it's because I am hungry and know I won't get anything to eat until tomorrow. Other times, it's because I spend much of the afternoon looking for a place to stay tonight. And always, there is the emotional toll of knowing that I don't belong anywhere.
But often, the nights are worse. The night tries robbing me of my soul.
That's when shadows creep up from my unconscious, reminding me that I haven't slept in "my" bed in what seems like forever. It happens when I awaken during the night and don't hear the soft breathing of Prince, my loving and beloved Golden Retriever, who is tucked safely in foster care for now, coming from the floor next to me. It happens when, on some nights, I have one nightmare dream after another, usually where I'm lost in a familiar place; other nights, I dream of when I actually had a life.
It's said that prisoners doing a long stretch in the pen sometimes dream of running through open fields. I dream of days when my life was better.
Whether I am asleep in somebody's guest room or at a shelter, I haven't really slept soundly for months. Every strange noise wakes me up, every street sound coming through a window causes me to shudder, and whenever I hear happy people walking and sharing thoughts I mourn everything that I've lost.
That's when I start thinking that my soul is being destroyed.
You know your soul is being destroyed when you can't remember the last time you laughed hard with a friend.
Your soul is being destroyed when you can't remember when you didn't feel emotionally drained and physically exhausted.
Your soul is being destroyed when you cannot recall daydreaming just a little.
Your soul is being destroyed when you discover that you hadn't thought once of your late sister – mine died of brain cancer in 1999 when she was only 40 – during the day because you were too busy scrounging for food, looking for a bed or looking for a cool place to sit out of the hot sun. Before all of this, I thought of Janice every day.
Your soul is being destroyed when you recognize that your soul is being destroyed.
I can hang on to my underwear and the few other material things I have left. I can struggle to keep my spirit intact. I don't know how to keep my soul from being destroyed.
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