We all want to be successful, it’s been our dream since we were all young children. It was instituted into us by our parents, family, friends, school teachers, and just about anyone else with whom we have come across over our lifetimes. My goodness, but I have such graphic memories of the ideas we threw together. Astronauts, doctors, lawyers, pilots, policemen, firemen, artists, singers poets, carpenters, mechanics, architects, what a group of dynamically opposed components, but all of them, created friendships and relationships which I hold to this day.
As a child I was arrogant about my options, I was not thinking about doing any of it; I was going to DO it, no matter what! All of the affiliations we’ve formed in our lives have initiated at some point, through the igniting of our imaginations. We are coexistents in the world, not just singular at all times, we seek to belong to a group or to at least a duo at certain times. As beings who are conceived in a connected fashion, I believe we have all been predisposed to the complimentary dynamics of concomitance. We are born with the innate need of each other. This breeds the diseases of envy, avariciousness, and jealousness in so many of us. All of these negative traits, add up to the production of fears, into hatreds, into conflicts, of all types, and ultimately into traumatic events.
No matter what the identity is which we give to the outcome of trauma, it is a condition which has been produced due to our having had some type if an external experience, which we eventually internalize in an attempt to protect ourselves from the emotional pain which it causes. This commutative aspect eventually meets an immovable object, and we have a backflow: BOOM! PTSD, or any of a various number of emotional conditions.
I find that the symptoms are so vagariously positioned, that I can never take aim at them, I can never just relax, take a deep breath, and know that I at least have a clear shot to take at this enemy. It’s not like a clean combat scenario, for me, it is often guerilla warfare! The tactics-less, but the extremely effective usage of surprise, the shock and the awe of emotional distress triggers. No one can explain this in a way to make it clearly understandable to someone else. Most people are dependent upon a lifetime of information which tells them whether or not they should even believe you when you tell them that you have this condition. We’re not the victims of WWI trench warfare or mustard gas, so how could we be suffering from this? They often ask.
Ironically; I ask myself this question, every single day of my life since it has invaded me! The biggest difference, however, is, I am actually seeking not just the answer to the question, but also a cure or at least some relief from its effects. I guess this is one test, I would hope that the other person could have had the correct answer to, instead of us both being clueless.
Medicines and other therapies may at some point, have some successes for me or for anyone else, but, until then, I/we, seek the peace of the moment, eventually the full-time peace, we have had snatched away, taken into a place which seems to be outside of internal emotional selves, the part where even I/we, are not fully able to define nor even to comprehend.
I watched previously healthy people, die. I watched as their lives drained away into the mists of nothingness. I saw the lights go out in the eyes of people I had never before met, or ever got to know. I was supposed to be able to help these people, they were supposed to be victims of accidents, not decedents because of the traumas they had suffered. Yes, I took it personally, I don’t recall that I was aware of it at the time, but now, I see those faces, I hear those voices, the sounds of the breathing, the smell of the blood. It hurts, and it seems to be getting worse. Maybe that sounds exaggerated, but this is my experience.
It gets worse, at times, but what choice do I have? This is a part of me, this is a dynamic of my identity now, I am working to accept me this way, I will not presume to know how this will continue. A good day, means less terror, a bad day, means more, but how do I quantify this to an outsider? I’m having difficulty with this, myself.
PTSD: an entity, not, my identity.