Strange that it never occured to me. There are times I’ve been so upset that I’ve stamped around while cussing, that I’ve lain flat on the floor and groaned for as long as I had breath, that I’ve ranted my frustration aloud in an unhinged monologue, that I’ve swung my limbs about in a fury. All until I’d vented enough to just … resume my normal life.
And if I’d had not the privacy of my home, I’d either have had to bottle that all up … or open it all up where the public could scrutinize my every move. It really is a privilege to not be constantly on display like that.
[ID: tweet by Lydia Kiesling @ lydiakiesling, “Housed people have the privilege of having their worst moments in private; unhoused people don’t. That gives some people the mistaken impression that the person they see acting belligerent on the street is and will be that person every single moment of their life.”]
