An old friend spoke at one of the churches where I've given talks about PTSD this year. She invited me to come hear her in support. It was an awesome talk she gave.

Afterwards, I was really surprised at how nice those church folks were to me. It's not my church, I was just visiting to support my speaker friend, I wasn't "making an appearance," I had no expectations. When I go speak I'm so scared I get in, talk, and get out.

They were so nice. A kid came up and read me a poem he'd written, an elderly lady took my picture. I got a couple of hugs, lots of smiles. I live such a shut in life just between teaching at school and going home, I forgot how nice people can be.

I don't expect niceness. My mom beat me bloody weekly as a kid, I grew up in a war and at nine years of age actually had a guy lock eyes with me and then hit my car with a bomb anyway. I was raped twice as a kid by the teen son of a military adviser. I have seen humanity be heartless bastards, male and female, family and government. You name it.

I'm not used to it, so I thought I'd document it here, along with my fears and PTSD flashbacks I write about here, too. Nice is nice.

Anybody else surprised by niceness? It's really nice.