Everything is perfect. Everything is sick.

Yesterday I wrote about the joy of flashbacks as they pertain to me, mentally. Then I thought maybe I’d write about the physical effects of flashbacks, again, as pertained to me.

I’ll start with the headaches, which I suspect effect alot of us. My headaches are not particularly intense, however they are constant. And I mean constant. Sun-up to sun-down. And no amount of Motrin or Tylenol helps. Neither does mixing the two meds. Believe me, I’ve tried various quantities and mixes. Nothing helps.

Then is the sensory overload. I keep my eyes closed alot, because simply “seeing” gets my mind whirling. So does loud noises, and even being touched. For me being touched feels almost prickly, or shocking. It’s not very comforting, even though the thought behind is. I keep my eyes shut I start to doze off and just get tired and bitchy.

I will say listening to music does help my head, but I can’t listen to it loud, and I have to be very selective of the songs. The wrong song at the wrong time triggers all kinds problems both mental and physical.

The rest of my body feels sort of like the flu; aching joints and sore, tight muscles. Moving around, walking is very tiring and feels like the sensation of walking or moving fast in a swimming pool. Theres a heavy but invisible “drag” to physical movement.

In short, (cliff-notes) flashbacks are stressful and even painful; in the mind and throughout the body. So getting anything done is rare, as hard as I try. And I still haven’t learned to give myself permission to deal with the struggle and take a “down day” when I need it.

This of course ramps up the guilt, anxiety, and shame. As this invisible illness rears its ugly head. But that’s another post for another day….

D-

The nightmare’s in our head are bad enough

It’s been a long day, fighting flashbacks almost constantly today. Some things I’ve survived, other things I’ve witnessed. All very painful, all left a mark, a scar, a wound, in my head, on my heart.

All have changed me, all seem stuck with me, none were invited to the surface today but came up anyway. I can’t get the thoughts out of my head, or the hurt out of my heart. Trauma. Trauma, flashbacks are more than just memories. So hard to rxplain to people who don’t have them.

They “teleport” a person back to those moments. Suddenly you’re there; feeling it (in full) seeing it in color, hearing it in stereo. The sights, sounds, smells, feelings. You’re “re”emersed in it. Without your permission, without a minute to prepare yourself, without warning.

Thats the thing about a sick mind; it does what it wants when it wants. No control. Deal with it immediately because you have no choice. Today my mind took me from one to another in quick succession, faster than I could think. It’s exhausting.

I spent today very far away from the “here and now”. I didn’t live in the moments, I survived them.

Again, live to fight another day…..

Standing on the backs of the bruised.

And we don’t shoot the wounded.

There’s plenty of folks have it worse than us, if we’re to be honest, and for as bad as we may feel. Some have it better, many have it worse. The one’s who are worse, at times can benefit from our help. And when I say help, I certainly don’t mean clinical solutions, or even solid answers.

I’m talking about simply listening, because we’ve learned the value of being able to talk freely, without being judged, without having solutions thrown at us, without being belittled or ridiculed. We don’t shoot the wounded. Because we’ve been there. Because we are there.

For all we’ve been through, on our own journey of pain and suffering, it might be because in the end we can handle it, we can carry it, we can get better, and maybe, just maybe we’re an example another person can use on their own journey.

We may find in trying to help others, we help our selves in the process. We get out of our own way long enough for our own healing to take place. We help, listen to, and support others. Because we have the unique opportunity to do so based from our own experiences.

We don’t stand on the backs of the bruised. We don’t shoot the wounded.

We try to help somehow. Because we may be the only one’s who do.

The infinite sadness of being…

I’ve been having an unusually tough week. I experienced some traumatic events, followed up with a sudden, unexpected death of a friend of my wife. The traumatic events hit me hard. Very hard. And just plunged my mind into a very deep, dark hole of overwhelming sadness and despair.

For several days I felt the sadness envelope my mind, my being; I felt changed almost at our most basic level. I felt the sadness just moving through my body, and grinding me up. Like a large, black mass, with razor-sharp teeth. I went past being numb. I went to where the sadness caused both mental and physical pain… It was bad. Bad bad.

And my brain just kept repeating it over and over in my head. My brain was torturing me. Trying to kill me. Interesting paradox about depression and trauma; your mind try’s to kill you, while your body fights to live. It’s more than exhausting.

I’m also naturally very empathetic, to a fault even. To the detriment of my mind, of my well being. So when something cause pain and/or sorrow, fighting through it is like fucking warfare inside of me.

I’m not built right for the evil in this world. I don’t even know how to cope with the recent events, but I had to survive it, I had to get out of it. So I chose the very wrong way to deal with it, and I stuffed it. Way down in the dark with all the shit I don’t speak of, so I didn’t have to “see” it anymore. Essentially what I did was feed my depression and PTSD, until I can get a grip on it. With any luck I’ll get to it before it gets to me. It’s gonna be ugly when it comes out, by my choice or not.

And this is the very thing that perpetuates depression; the stuffed things that can’t be held suddenly explodes out of you.

I did what I’ve always done, to survive and keep going. Hopefully….well, hopefully.

I just admitted it outloud. Maybe that will help.

It’s been a tough week. Ugly, tough, heavy, overwhelming, traumatic, and painful.

Thanks for reading.

My brain is flaming

Am I the only one for whom other people throw my mental illness in my face? Try to use it against me?

You know, it’s not constant sadness. As far as my posts go, some are funny, some are about depression/anxiety/ptsd. I’m not always “circling the drain” or on the brink of suicide. Sometimes my sense of humor shows up. Sometimes seriousness over sadness.

But some people, many people, family and friends alike label me as “faking” my illness. Too mentally unstable to have an opinion on a serious issue. Etc.

I’ve had numerous people turn their back on me. I’ve had to release numerous people from my life. Why am I not allowed to be open and free like everybody else?

They say we’re not alone, but I respectfully disagree. I’m very much alone. I feel very much alone. When I try to be myself, people hold it against me. That’s being alone.

Alone. A monster. A bad guy. Me.

Absolutely-

Any day of the week, and twice on Sunday, if thats what it takes;

Please…

Surviving is not living. Live to fight another day, is sometimes the best we can do.

So 2020 please…

I will not go quietly.

For me, that’s 2019s tombstone reading; “I will not go quietly.”

It’s been a long, rough year. No matter how high I raise up my chin, life just beats me harder, and below the belt. 2 days left in this year and it struck me with some sort of virus that comes with a vengeful fever. 2019 is just going to keep taking right to the end…

I know that 2020 will not usher in alot of magical upswings. And truth be told, all I’m really hoping for is some break-time in the stress. Things don’t have to go great, I can handle it. But an occasional smooth spot here and there would really produce some major gratitude.

Everybody has there time in the shit-storm though, that’s a given. I guess we’ll see….

D-

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas WordPress-nation. I hope you had the kind of day yesterday that you wanted to. Hopefully the New Year brings you what you want and/or need.

Doug

Slim pickins….

Well shit. I posted recently about 3 little hobbies I had planned to exercise my brain a little every day, and it hasn’t been going well. The book I’d like to read might as well 800lbs; I have yet to pick it up and get started reading.

My guitar practice is mostly a “cluster-fuck” of noises that only serve to scare my pets. I can’t seem to get connected to it. Practice is mostly a study of frustration and trying not to throw it across the room. I sure don’t seem to have any natural ability for it. Maybe I should try the drums… ?

I’m am doing good about writing here, though not every day, but still good at keeping up and just opening my head in public.

What I’d really like to do is ride my motorcycle. Or some such activity.

Being at war with your inner-self, your mind, is very taxing. I know some of you understand.

Anyway, (mostly) short and sweet today.

D-