91
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board / Re: facing the world
« Last post by Hopalong on January 14, 2026, 01:43:47 PM »Pretty calm, no screaming, Lighter.
But calm doesn't really mean I've accepted it all.
Working on facing reality, which ultimately is more important to me than comfort.
I realize that since childhood, I've always felt America was a family and every person who cares about it is a relative. My dad worked in intelligence during WWII in England, and was at the Pentagon every summer. When I was little I was absolutely obsessed with scotch tape. When he came home on weekends he'd bring me a little brown bag from the commissary with about six rolls of it, and I remember feeling like the luckiest five-year-old in the world. I remember holding his hand and walking through the endless huge halls of the Pentagon, full of awe because of all the men in uniforms striding past us. Hundreds.
A romanticized child's view, of course. Life teaches you other things about what you love.
But I love our country still and my heart is hurting for her. I wore my Dad's old Pendleton shirt when it was cold the other day, and it always brings me into the gentle circle of his arms. And such amazingly warm strong wool. It'll last forever if my D keeps it one day.
So, not screaming. Just remembering my Dad and being glad he doesn't have to watch this now.
hugs,
Hops
But calm doesn't really mean I've accepted it all.
Working on facing reality, which ultimately is more important to me than comfort.
I realize that since childhood, I've always felt America was a family and every person who cares about it is a relative. My dad worked in intelligence during WWII in England, and was at the Pentagon every summer. When I was little I was absolutely obsessed with scotch tape. When he came home on weekends he'd bring me a little brown bag from the commissary with about six rolls of it, and I remember feeling like the luckiest five-year-old in the world. I remember holding his hand and walking through the endless huge halls of the Pentagon, full of awe because of all the men in uniforms striding past us. Hundreds.
A romanticized child's view, of course. Life teaches you other things about what you love.
But I love our country still and my heart is hurting for her. I wore my Dad's old Pendleton shirt when it was cold the other day, and it always brings me into the gentle circle of his arms. And such amazingly warm strong wool. It'll last forever if my D keeps it one day.
So, not screaming. Just remembering my Dad and being glad he doesn't have to watch this now.
hugs,
Hops
Recent Posts