I came all the way to DC for my solo Thanksgiving last night.  Yet this morning I had a  "spasm" of loneliness that triggered my PTSD and all the reasons symptoms have led to isolation.   That PTSD "spasm" led to defeatist self-talk with which I'm very familiar.  All day yesterday  Thanksgiving the only person I spoke to offline was a guy who was waiting for his pizza like me at  the pizzeria (no turkey, just pizza alone in my hotel room last night).  

But it turned into a meaningful conversation because they guy was having pizza instead of a  Thanksgiving dinner because he came down from New York to put his elderly mom into a nursing  home.  

Since I teach Death and Dying classes to nursing students, it's what I talk about every day with my students who are training to be hospice and nursing home nurses themselves.  So I got to give this  guy an encouraging word, which maybe is what Fate intended.  If I'd been at a Thanksgiving table  with a lot of friends and family maybe that wouldn't have happened.

Still, this morning my defeatist depression PTSD side told me I'd go all day visiting the sights in DC without having anyone speak to me, so why bother?  A "spasm" of PTSD fight or flight hit me, saying  "flight--drive back home.  You don't have to do this solo holiday thing.  Go home and hide in your  apartment on your couch."

But I treated it like a "spasm," like a muscle spasm, a cramp in my leg when before my cane I used to jog a couple of miles every day.  It hurts more than it's permanent damage; it'll go away.  

Sure enough, right then there was a knock on the door and it was housekeeping, a lady from El Salvador.  She was surprised I welcomed her in my Spanish from growing up in Uruguay.  While she cleaned my room she asked about me and I told her a bit about myself.  Then she told me about her memories of Archbishop Romero, the Salvadoran martyr for peace who is the Latin American Martin Luther King, Jr.  She shared about having gotten married the year he was assassinated.

When she was done, I tipped her, and she said "God bless you," as more than a reflex.  She really meant it, and I felt blessed enough not to follow my PTSD "flight" response and run back home and hide because I'm estranged from my family for my PTSD safety and celebrate holidays alone.  

Instead, I got going, and took the hotel shuttle to the Metro.  Along the way the shuttle driver talked to me, too, telling me about his home town, Hong Kong.  Then I took the Metro, and now I'm writing this from the Smithsonian Museum on the DC Mall. It's official:  I am not a couch potato hiding at home because of my PTSD.  I am a tourist out and about town!  YAY!

I gave that guy some comfort at the pizzeria last night to keep him going to encourage him a little about his spending his holiday alone getting nursing home assistance for his mom.  Then I got that  Salvadoran housekeeper's blessing this morning to encourage me a little about spending my holiday  being a tourist instead of hiding in PTSD "flight" and "freeze" mode on my couch even when I'm  triggered.  In a universe where I've seen unfairness in how I got PTSD as an abused kid, it's nice  when unexpectedly the universe decided to give the gift of a day where blessings given and blessings  received even things out.  That's a reason for giving thanks for me, going solo as I am.

I hope y'all  get a gift like that, too, somehow, I don't know how.   In the meantime, please receive my daily support for today from the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. 

I did number job application number 44 yesterday for a job that  (a) pays $100,000 a year and (b) is on the US and Mexico border.  It's a stretch to reach for such a  promotion, but yippee if I got lucky with it.  It was a nice way to spend Thanksgiving, being hopeful  for the future like that even if chances are slim.  Slim chances taken are better than no chance at all.