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.

It all adds up

The Fourth of July was tough. However, I survived it. The day after The Fourth I became aware of the people that are in my life. The previous day I couldn’t see any of this. I could hardly see any light at all. But then I started hearing from various people in my life that I overlooked in the midst of my challenging day.

I had a couple of texts from a friend checking in on me telling me that she loved me, and was thinking of me. I got teary just reading the text. Then I heard from an old friend, and we talked on the phone for a bit. There was another friend that was emailing with me while he was on vacation just to stay in touch with me because he knew I was struggling. Those experiences got me thinking of the people who reach out in small ways: the random person at an AA meeting that spoke to me, a coworker who wished me well on my vacation, etc. I realized and finally felt that I was not alone in this life, that there are people that care about me.

It’s important for me to have this realization because in my darkest moments I convince myself that I do not matter to anyone in this life, and that my life is hardly worth living.

Just know that when you reach out to someone, no matter how small, it all adds up to getting that person to feeling like they matter in this world.

Everything we do adds up.