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A Quiet Place To Sleep (A True Story)
When I lived in Lakewood, Ohio with my Mom and brothers it was very noisy. The TV was always blasting as it accommodated four other residents besides myself. Plus there was stereo record player music and also lots of electric guitar playing at all hours of night and day. Everybody was working toward becoming a Rock Star, and that is a boisterous thing. Not a good place for a slam dunked schizophrenic to recover in, wouldn't you agree? I am so glad my current home is quiet.
It's 12:43 am and I just awakened Suzie, my house guest, from her sleep in hopes of having some pleasant conversation. After all, she might want to express herself about anything current of concern and that would suit my need as well. But she went back to sleep. It's so quiet here, especially compared to Lakewood.
It was crazy back then. I felt the people on the TV set had signaled me out for abuse and were encouraging anyone and everyone to scrutinize me and my activities around the clock. It was billed as a Judgement From God. Things got pretty uncomfortable for me, as you can imagine, and now, almost 40 years later, I am still regarded as a paranoid schizophrenic who hasn't responded well to treatment. I guess I agree with that. Much in my miserable life is still the same, but not everything. Here is what has changed....
My brother kept getting older with me. I was 26,. Later he got married for the first time at 56 years of age and died three months after. My 84 year old mom will never be the same. But I think he was a good man and if the right thing is done in this universe he is or will be alright. I think it likely to happen that way.
My other brother hurt his back on the job and sits in his bedroom at my moms house day in, day out. My mom doesn't know what to do for him. I never knew him well but I sometimes think I could find him computer repair work with my lead generation skills and' how to' books. I don't know if that will come about or not, but Lord, I am willing to give it a shot. It don't cost much currently. I have a quiet place to work.
I guess it goes to show that we do make progress and prayers do get answered. How I cried out for a quiet place to sleep. Please, just a quiet place to sleep. When your mind is hurting a quiet place to sleep seems too much to ask. Complain though I do about my downtrodden lot, still, a quiet place to sleep, and the right to pursue many other interests, has long been mine.
I cannot say life has snubbed me in every detail. Some relief has come to pass. I had friends among the world war 2 generation at the HUD building I lived in who needed someone young and in good physical condition to run errands for them. They were a great bunch of grateful, and just, men and women, brave and heroic beyond my comprehension, considering the levels of potential pain they risked during the depression and during the war. I couldn't have done the same.
I am glad they did, though. It was good to know them. There were other breaks, too, but mostly I am just hopeful at times that my ultimate place to stay will be a place of relative comfort. May it be that way for us all.
Don't think you are not heard and nothing good ever happens. It probably is not true entirely. Like they say, those corny ones, "count your blessings." It is a good thing to do now and then.