Wednesday, August 8, 2018, 1910 Hrs.
Why do any of us come here?
I seek the quality of inner peace for myself, and as I write, I hope to
make the same thing possible for someone else.
This week, I’m angry with PTSI in ways that I’ve never felt before because
This wantonly indiscriminate bastard has lied to several of my service brothers and made them believe that taking their lives was the answer to their problems. I am angry because as much as we talked to each other, as much as I encouraged each of them to remember to make room for himself as he traveled this road of uncertainty. They knew, but the weaknesses out-performed the strengths that each of them had within and the results were tragically permanent and sad.
I haven’t made a lot of headway in my PTSI battles but what I have accomplished places enough distance between me and the lies it tells me that I am still able to fight it and to at least parry its thrusts. I’m not special though, I am just diligent and willing to fail at my attempts and this can give me a small bit of distance between me and “it”.
Previous aspects of my pre-injured life may not have prepared me for everything that I am facing in my present-day life, but I have my eyes open now and I am not letting this destroy my ability to at least believe that I have a chance to defeat this inner-foe.
Right here, right now, is the best of the intergalactically contrived collection of cells and other elements that comprise my human makeup at this point in my life. Nothing makes me perfectly suited to be here other than my presence. I fell for the “look for the prize” I was told would be the best motivator for me as I was growing up. This fall allowed me to get into the pit I’m in today. Pissed-off at the deal though I may be; I will make my stand from this position on the field of battle.
PTSI and all other emotional illnesses may have been collected and placed within the bindings of a book in order for those who try to “treat” this condition and all of its identities find an easier pathway to succeeding in the task, but we are not pages in a book. We, (those who affected!) are flesh and blood people. We are each of us, individually competent to our own existences, and not a generically made imitation of the next one of us you might meet.
PTSI is a thing of exceptional strength and an abuser of my senses to be sure, but it has one flaw that even the doctors don’t recognize: me and you, the individual person, who can and often do fight against what it is trying to do. It will weaken at times, fall away to regroup and this gives each of us the opportunity to demolish its transportation system. But let me be honest here as I say that I’ve never seen it back up from me, it keeps coming and demanding my energy to fight it.
I don’t say this very often about things, but here I have decided that it best describes my feelings about this monstrosity; I hate it! I hate that it exists and I hate that it can cause anyone to believe that they shouldn’t! (exist).
Feelings aside, no, I can’t place mine aside, not even for a moment! All my feelings gathered together like a medieval times combat scene is stacked on both sides of the field. One will win, one will lose, but both sides will take casualties on their tally sheets. Each side will fall into the blood of its soldiers, each will hurt and the leaders of the battle will find solace in the fact that this is what warfare should be. Death and loss, deciding who can claim victory.
Loss of the hurt.
Receiving of the rest that you and I are seeking.
No more emotional injuries.