Perceptions and Assumptions
I’m sitting here in the van with my cats in my old neighborhood, my “I’m new to San Diego, I love this place” neighborhood, my pandemic “holy shit, what is happening” neighborhood.
It’s a cute neighborhood in a chill area.
A woman just walked by with her dog while wearing sweatpants and a fluffy bathrobe. It didn’t look odd, no one will look at her in any way, it will be assumed that she has a home and is just taking her dog out for an evening potty break. It will be assumed she has a source of income that maintains her rental or mortgage payments without much question, it doesn’t cause much discomfort. I know nothing of her life, but she looks comfy in her sweatpants and fluffy robe.
I noticed her in a way I wouldn’t have when I lived here. If that woman were to walk in another neighborhood at a different time in the same attire without her dog, she would likely be looked at differently. She may not be understood and not understanding almost always brings discomfort. That discomfort has nothing to do with her, nothing to do with her clothes, nothing to do with who she is, what she does, or how she feels.
Story time:
Months ago, I was street parked for the day and I decided I would go to the nearby gym to shower. It was a 15 minute walk; I often misjudge what is a quick walk and thought I’d just hop, skip, and jump right over. I forgot I was in a popular area on a Saturday night; I did not hop, skip nor jump, instead, it took FOREVER and I had lots of time to observe, perceive and doubt.
I was wearing a comfy dress that could have been pajamas (was it? maybe…) with a large sweater that could have been a robe, slinging my well loved duffle bag over my shoulder. As I walked, I slowly, then quickly realized I had left my safe space of my own reality and had entered the world’s perception, or at least my perception of the world’s perception (this all gets super meta). As I walked amongst the “fancy” people going out on a Saturday night sporting my pjs and rocking my shower bag, I reflected on how strong perceptions can be felt.
But which perceptions are mine and which are yours?? Does it even matter?
I have an unconventional home; one could call me unhoused. I’ve chosen it which is an important detail that matters; it’s the detail that matters and also, it absolutely doesn’t matter, the fact that it matters, matters more (again, super meta). I have observed many perceptions and assumptions over the past year that don’t care about the choices that brought me here, nor should they.
There is a shame I carry for living this life. Although that’s absolutely true, no words I’ve found have portrayed it’s complexity. I’ve been trying to write this since May, so if you’re reading this, I finally bit the shame bullet and posted the mush that’s in my brain.
Who am I to think I get to create the life I want? Who am I to say “no thank you” to a degree that was comfortably sustaining me for years? Who am I to impose myself on others when I could trade this all in for self sufficiency at any moment? Who am I to need help when I chose this?
This isn’t easy; I am both the most and least self sufficient I have ever been. I have people that have supported me in new ways that have been SO uncomfortable to receive. It’s fascinating and frustrating to observe what the ultra independence I thought I needed to achieve has done to my ability to ask for and receive help. It’s a real wishy washy situation, the independence game; I have lots more unformed thoughts on that topic, but my heart can’t handle that digression yet.
Asking for help is the most basic human need, it’s what we are born able to do and is shaped and cultivated our entire lives. I would never judge a new mom or any struggling parent asking for help, I would never judge newly weds asking for help, I would never judge a student asking for help, I would never judge someone starting any type of job asking for help,
but what if they didn’t do those things?
What if they didn’t do the things in the way they’re taught is the way to do the things?
The homeless are judged for asking for help; the jobless are judged for asking for help, any marginalized group is judged for asking for help in ways that are hard and uncomfortable to look at. We think we know things that we simply don’t. I have been staring at this issue for just shy of a year which is like a millisecond for anyone wholly living it; I stare at it every time I know my saying “I chose this” would impact a person’s perception of me.
Aside from that MAJOR piece, there is the perception that needing help for doing something that makes me happy is less honorable, like being miserable on some level helps quantify the amount of help that is acceptable. I quit the perceived hard stuff to do the perceived fun stuff; I’m not homeless, but I’m homeless, I’m not a van lifer, but I’m a van lifer, I’m not a live free f*** the system hippie, but I’m a live free f*** the system hippie, I’m not a speech pathologist, but I’m a speech pathologist, I’m not the person I was before all this, but I’m the same person I was before all this.
I may be a lot of things, but I’m never not trying ;)
I’m more and more convinced that this life is ALWAYS both. I lived my life small and quiet, until now. When life changed and van life became the direction I was going, it came with the shedding of my beloved invisibility on so many levels; it turns out one of those levels was revealing a visibility of myself to myself as well.
There are heavy feelings and societal issues in these perceptions as well as personal ones. My goal is to find self acceptance for where I’m at and trudge through the murky waters of asking for and accepting help. I hope in that process I can learn ways to help others access help in the midst of shame as well, and if nothing else, at least address the onion in the room that is the needing of help.
I think the first layer is learning to talk about the murkiness of shame, which is just THE WORST; it’s the most destructive force in this world, it’s fear’s best friend, and I’m hell bent on figuring out how to keep shining to light those two up.