Last night's wrap up in my gratitude journal entry read, "I am grateful for a day teaching online without having to go in to school to work because working from home online via computer has meant I was out of reach of the abuse there." Now here it's Friday and I do have to go in to school to work within reach of that. That's why even though I was bone tired I woke up worried at 5am with only 6 hours of sleep. I had dreamt that a foreign woman living in my town got sick of the xenophobia and workplace harassment for having civilian combat PTSD like I have and moved away.
My subconscious spoke to me in the form of that foreign woman in my dream because I happened to overhear my local foreign gas station owner speaking in his native language to a foreign woman friend yesterday when I stopped by his gas station to fill my car up with gas. As I pumped my gas and listened, I found myself feeling jealous that they, who are more foreign than I am and who survived a war zone like I did, could handle living in my town now better than I could. I thought that maybe that was because they make more money than I do.
But no amount of money could compensate for this xenophobia and PTSD stigma harassment I have had to endure in at my school as a foreign language instructor with PTSD from living in a war zone abroad. No wonder there was a 4 year gap between when my predecessor at my school retired and their hiring me. Nobody wanted the community college job. As I've said here before, my tires have been slashed 3 times, acid has been poured on the hood of my car in the school parking lot, a bullet has been fired through the driver's side mirror of my car--and that's just a catalog of insults against my motor vehicle. Those against my soul and psyche number in the thousands. It's amazing that I've been able to manage any sanity at all. When bosses at my work found out that I had PTSD, instead of support they wrote me a letter of "grave concern" instead.
The fact that I survived torture under a dictatorship on the mission field growing up as a missionary kid is the only explanation I can offer for how I am somehow surviving. So here I am again, as I'll be back again and again, asking for your support today I'll get through one more day and one more week. In 3 weeks I get away for a rest to Mexico, and 16 months and I retire there. Support welcome again for the day by day daily strength to get me there. Thanks.
Has anyone ever been to a clinic that they're going through to get services and you become good friends with the people that go there and you find drama and nonsense in the mix are some ways I can deal with avoiding that situation?
a a little hard to see can't find good light made so many they are all lined up on a rod no more room keep hitting my head on them when I go to the kitchen LOL