The a/c in the car

The air conditioning in the car is the only thing keeping me remotely present at the moment. The heat outside makes my body want to float away, and it takes on the quality of cotton dancing in the breeze.

I can’t be home because I will certainly lose time, especially feeling this way. I should drive to the coffee shop, but all I can do at the moment is place my face near the air conditioning vents so that I don’t completely float away.

At times like this I ask, Have things really improved for me? Am I getting better, or is that belief just a delusion?

I just looked at my gas gauge. I need to take myself some place because I am going to run out of gas just sitting here if I don’t.

Happy Anniversary!

Hello Readers!

Today is the anniversary of A Year in the Life of PTSD! Thank you very much for being such great supporters of my blog.

I dedicate this poem to you, my readers, for all the continued support on here.

I Will Not Break

This day is not going to break me –

No way, no how, it is not.

Foggy days and vacant memory –

This day is not going to break me.

The dark place that knows me,

I implore it to set me free.

This day is not going to break me –

No way, no how, it is not.

Being available

This week I am on vacation at a writing workshop. I came to this workshop because I learned this particular writing technique in the past, and it served my writing well. I want to get back in the saddle of doing it regularly. Unfortunately, I think I discovered why this technique is such an issue for me.

The technique is relatively straight-forward, and I’m going to over simplify it here for the sake of explanation. Number your paper from 1-25 first. Then you meditate for at least two minutes. You take a topic, any topic really, but in my case it was churches, and you start listing images that come to you from age 6 to the present day, one image per line. You have 7 minutes to do your listing. My head immediately began to hurt as I started this exercise. I felt a flood of peeps and selves start to tweak out simultaneously. I fought it because I wanted to do the exercise, and the more I fought it the more tired and floaty I became. The room started to take on a haze for me.

“By meditating you are making yourself available to the images. The memories are there, and they will come if you make yourself available to them.” This was one of the takeaways from the exercise.

I’m struck by what she said because it was very similar to what Doc often tells me about being open to the extrinsic memories when odd things happen to me that make no immediate sense.

It looks like the universe is sending me a message, be available to the memories. I’m afraid to know what lies ahead.