Currently is where I live. | #PTSDchat
Complex PTSD

Currently is where I live.

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Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Sagging ratings, indelicate statements of a personal nature when they should only deal with the person from a professional standpoint, lies told, feelings hurt, reputations smashed, all part of public life. You can keep it, it’s not for me!


Storms are stealing the brightness of the sun, my cloudy day has become stormy and fraught with dangerous conditions. I think that I am screaming, but the howling of the storm is drowning my ability to know for sure if I am or not. That’s private life, and I don’t want this, either!


This all sounds whiny and wimpy, but it’s the truth of a life and since it’s my own, I can tell it truthfully and a person can read it or not, it won’t change the fact of its validity!


I watched an old man walking across the street when I was just a ¬†little kid one day. He moved slowly, he didn’t seem to care about the traffic that would be coming at him when the light changed, he just took each step as if the whole world was watching him just like I was doing.


When he finally got across the street after having a few horns honked at him for being in the street, he was deliberate in his pace, and I liked that for some reason, he was going wherever it was that he was going because he seemed to want to be going there! The self-determined destination is a difficult thing to focus upon today because of the many distractions that exist.


When I was a kid, the cartoon “The Jetsons” had flying cars, T.V. watches, video screens with real time conversations, and moving sidewalks and elevated housing on stilts, and I’m seeing this start to become the reality! Kids don’t have to think as much as when I was a kid because we live in that push-button word that used to be science fiction and cartoon stuff.


My life has seen strife, struggle, and triumphs. I say this as if I have exclusivity to the process, and in a way, I do, because I witness the world through my own eyes, and I process those sights, sounds, and experiences through my own mind, so yes, I guess I do own the process.


I’ve seen planes go from fairly recent mechanisms to being indispensable to humanity, larger and more luxuriant than ever before, capacities reaching almost one thousand passengers, some flying around the world in less time than it takes for the world to make a rotation! Cruise ships that are enormous hotels turned upon their sides and made floatable and able to carry thousands of persons all over the world.


Telephones that are computers, televisions, cameras, notebooks, health maintenance devices, and much more! The world has become so different just within the first thirty years of my life that it is almost unimaginable what will become the next incarnation of its personality.


Should I live to see it, will I be able to adjust to the changes that come? Even the act of warfare has significantly changed. People can be killed by a device operated by a person who is half a world away. Some leaders are not wary of using chemical warfare, and biological weapons are a constant threat to the lives of every creature on the planet. How do I survive tomorrow, when I’m not sure I want to be alive today?


We need to see the truth as it is for our own self, and not according to a paradigm that has no meaning in reality. Real is different for every individual. A parent can tell a child to eat liver using the motivational “I like it, you should too!”


I’ve noticed that living with apprehensions of tomorrow can really ruin my day today, so I retain that thinking for the next day, not for today. I try to feel what I’m in right now because I might not get the chance tomorrow to analyze what today was for me. I tend to explore this moment. How I am feeling what I am thinking, why I am doing any of it. It just makes more sense to the person I am right now. I can’t be who I was yesterday, and I can’t promise I’ll even be, come tomorrow, so it makes sense for me to be this way.


Right now, I feel like there’s hope for persons who are dealing with the personal storms of emotional illnesses and the conditions that produced by their presence. I know that nothing can make it better if it is not in tune with what is already happening, so I know that some treatment modalities are useless to each of us. Listen to an orchestra where every instrument is playing a half step off from the other, and it would drive you out of your mind!


A musician can play his guitar with every string out of tune if he knows where the right notes are on the strings that are out of tune. But if he can’t do this, he sounds a mess, and his playing no matter how technically correct, will make your ears want to shut themselves down. This is how I’ve felt at times during treatment. Talking to a head that cannot know my definitions beyond a dictionary or a manual. This person cannot know how it feels to believe that I am falling off of a cliff when I am sitting down and watching television. Or how it feels to see the face of a person who has been devastated by the actions of another human being and has no answers to make them understand why it took place.


I have been there, and it was most discomforting to know that I was useless at that point. You can train, you can study, you can pass testing, but you can’t always be of the most important of uses; that being, giving an explanation that will help someone to begin to comprehend a nightmare that has happened to them.


“Why did this happen to me?” “what did I do to this person, that would make him want to do this to me?” “Why did my child have to die?” I know the lack of answers to these questions. I’ve asked a couple myself, and to this moment, I have not found an answer.

My faith is never shaken, but my understanding can be, and this can be like taking a direct hit, middle of the chest, with a vest on, it still hurts like hell, and it can still kill you!


There have been occasions when I had to decide to get up the next morning. Decide to make an effort to get out of that bed, step onto the floor, make the trip to that building to have the unimaginably painful conversation with a stranger who only acts sympathetic because that’s a part of what they have trained to do. Nothing they say changes what has taken place, and they don’t have an answer as to why. It’s a deeper hole that I was digging when I asked those questions.


Deepening the hole, widening the distance between the pain of reality, by hiding within myself, until even I didn’t know who I was anymore. If not for true friends, and family, I’m still there, crying, pounding needlessly upon the dirt, screaming at the sky that it “should have been me!” but you know what? It wasn’t me, it was someone else, THE someone else who should have been there to see me out, not this way, backward as it is.


Architecture: the structure of a thing.

In this case, I am speaking about the human brain. They look pretty much the same. But how it is used can be a difference between any million persons, as there are grains of sand on the shore!


Five people can listen to a song, and each of them will respond to it differently. I listen to music like I breathe air. Each note is a necessity to me for the life of the song, as is each breath that I take. I see people in the same way: each is as important to me as a breath I have to take; even those who piss me off, because all them build me into who I am. I don’t dismiss anyone.


This blog is not so much in order as it is a statement that is concomitant with my current state of thinking and being. It is part of my inner conversation, the ongoing dialogue between my environment and me.

I hope I didn’t bore you.











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