Ancient Mayan Temple Pyramid Chichen Itza Mexico

Ancient Mayan Temple Pyramid Chichen Itza Mexico

“Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.”

Personal Journal Entry

Saturday, April 12, 2014 4:23 AM: It’s been nearly two weeks since we had to say goodbye to our little home. Five years there for me and two years for her. Even though we didn’t have a kitchen and had to prepare our meals in the bathroom, we loved it. It was our home. But we couldn’t afford $550 a month on our severely limited income. We struggled to keep our home but finally lost the battle. The hardship of disability can go way beyond the disability itself. The constant companions of heartbreak, fear and frustration can be far more devistating.

I’m so tired. We took a nap after dinner and woke up late. She wanted to go back to sleep. I was hungry and wanted to get up. She laid back down and I went to the living room, had cookies and milk and watched Hanger One. I’m exhausted but can’t sleep.

We have four days left before the end of our two week stay at this stop to find a place to live, to exist, w not even one viable prospect. I feel certain something will turn up, something has to, but I can’t stand not knowing what. It’s wearing on us both.

I feel so badly for her. She’s such a good and sweet girl. I don’t know what I would do w out her. I keep trying to remind myself of and practice my own advice. It’s difficult. But then, being homeless is difficult.

It’s so strange to see all that I worked for my entire life dwindled away to just so many boxes. They’re like tiny coffins, each containing a small representation of my life all stored in my son’s basement like the impersonal catacombs of a long forgotten funeral home. Therein lies all the shattered hopes and dreams of a lifetime scattered and disorganized waiting to be resurrected. But each day I see more and more of what little is left of my remains being sold off for pennies on the dollar to perpetuate my questionably purposeful and meaningful existence. There may be soon not even a morsel of my life left to be resurrected. The Phoenix rose from ashes but what if there are no ashes to be found, is the Phoenix doomed to non-existence?

I’m going to lay down and try to get some sleep. Hopefully, my twilight dreams will inspire me. But what has always worked for me in the past seems to have consistently failed me over these last seven years. Still, I continue to hope. Hope seems all that I have left.

What is really sad, and says so much about our society, is that it is highly unlikely that anyone will stop to read this. There isn’t anything that anyone can do but it would be so helpful if people just cared.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever become one of them. It is no longer “them”. It is “us”. ~ Trabue Gentry