Sunday, June 3, 2018, 1545 Hrs.
Fear of failure?
An unhinged sense of doom?
Unnecessary feelings of paranoia?
Inconsolable loss of self-esteem?
Bring an issue, it’ll fit into the conversation when you arrive at a chat of the group known as #PTSDchat on the Twitter site every Wednesday at 9 pm eastern time. I’m asking you to see if you DON”T have a reason to utilize the information that is offered there. I’m asking to give yourself a chance to see this illness from the viewpoints of other people who are dealing with its presence just like you are doing at this time in your life. You have to be willing to try, if not, you’ll get worse, even with help, some of us get worse. I have, and I don’t lie about it, but you know what? I keep trying.
Inside of my mind, I see the ending of the beginning of my life, not the beginning, and then the story that writes itself out as I go along. Blue is not always its usual self, sometimes it comes up as a multi-colored aspect an anomaly that has no normal description for me to offer. One day, I decided to stop trying to explain it. I just tucked myself into a ball and rolled into a dark corner, hoping not to be found there. I just wanted to be left the hell alone! I was tired of being this way, and I was also tired of trying to tell anyone how I was feeling! My life was altered it wasn’t what it used to be, it was now a blemish on what it used to be. It was now stained with the obtrusive colors of gravitational distorted perversion.
Seeing my face in a mirror, distorted and shattered as if the glass has been broken, cracked, smashed but left in its place in the frame my face never looking familiar or normal. Dealing with this sight becomes a fight I undertake every time I pass a mirror, an activity I started to avoid almost at any cost!
Therapy doesn’t tell me how to deal with this, it gives me ideas on how to attempt to disrupt some of the events that are being triggered. At times, I am told to try different exercises that might give me a way to disrupt the symptoms, but to me, disruptions are already my problem, I can’t see them as a solution!
I haven’t decided to sign an unconditional surrender to PTSI or any other manifestation of my mental illnesses, but that still needs to be determined as to if I ever will. I have come close a couple of times. Once closer than the other. Damned mental illnesses, who in the hell do they think they are to have intervened in my life? I was strong, confident, competent and moving along at the pace I had chosen, and then one day…it all came crashing down on top of me, and inside of me at the same time!
Perilous. This is how my life is lived today. No sureness to be found, a bunch of inconsistencies that can come back to bite me on the ass at any moment. Why do I think anyone else should care? In fact, I don’t, what I do hope for is that something that I write will hit a familiar note with someone and that will motivate that person to give life another chance. Take the hits, live in the sh*t if you have to do it for a while, but live, nonetheless!
Name another cogent choice, and maybe I’ll try it with you. Suicide, drugs, and alcohol or personal harm are not the answers, so don’t even joke to me about that.
Darkness, dull light, pale colors and inundated memories of pain-causing inhumanity and injustice, are my normal point of view. I pray that no one else can identify with a single definition that I have used herein. It’s as if I get to walk over the dust of my own charred brain parts, every day of my life. Let me not forget that I had a life, but please, let me start to remember what it was like before the fog entered and obstructed my view.
Peace of mind, a wholeness of self, be a distributor of kindness and a receiver of justice.