Saturday, 28 November 2015

short ode's to PTSD...... A life changed.

I have written a blog for some time now. In the separate matter dealing with P.T.S.D alone , I simply cannot put to words the thoughts and feelings in a manner that is coherent and decisive. so  People can't understand it until you deal with it and if you cannot explain what "it "is adequately to another then they simply don't know what the F your talking about.

I found some people who have, I understand them as they are me and I am them but we are different. When they can, in short sentences verbalize the identity of the perpetrator. My hats off to them. I certainly hope that they didn't mind that I borrowed them:

Mike Essig
Apr 7
The Geometry Of Self-Destruction

~ short ode to PTSD

Though capable of rage,
I am harmless enough
except when cornered.

If you decide
to visit my life,
just be sure
we always sit
in a circle.
- mce

Feb 4 Feb 5

Why go back
when you can move forward?
I face this question
each day I breathe.
It's not always so easy
to answer.

Tatiana Cody
Feb 13, 2011





backyard ptsd

acid flashback in the trees
frenzied branches feathered leaves
swaying seizing in the breeze
forming shapes that his mind sees
scattered thoughts attention free


I wanted our love to be like the romance movies
I reached too far, and put down the pencil
I never finished writing our story


A memory triggered, triggers the thoughts and the names called call the shots. Night by night the thoughts grow and the next thing you know you're tying rope.

I will end with this one that I myself wrote as I reflect on the picture of a  tortured message in a book. This is about as close as I can come to truly explaining how it is for myself.
 "You could be triggered by a word that sends you into a trance. Your soul speaks as your lips can't move and your brain switches to a different mood.
 All you want to do is read this book but your memory reminds you of all they took.
 Rest you say is all you need to get up and live to fight another day, a mockery to the real depth that you pay.
 while you rest the imagination plays , the sounds, smell and touch never go away.
 Laugh and mock though they may, somehow you fight another day.
As you sit awake in haze, drenched in sweat from the maze.
Your mate asks you about your craze state, you simply dawn your fake face and offer a meaningless false assured smile in the dark, you dare not speak your heart.
Silently wonder 'Am I falling apart'?
My own words about PTSD.

Ironic how most of us will openly say we aren't afraid of anything , odd as their is this simply this feeling of fear yet we or at least I know that I am not a timid person. Equally odd the open threat that you may very well not be trusted to become violent, yet you aren't by nature a violent person, nor have committed violent acts. it is as if you are not you anymore, the fear and anger unexplained while in true life the scariest thing real or  imaginable doesn't get a rise from you. Part of the soul gone? I don't know, fear of death no longer there you have faced that fear and died, yet you continue to live but your altered. I try and understand thins thing and I can't.

If someone or someone's were to break into my home tonight the last thing would be for me to call police, it would be systematically too late for them.....yet a nightmare can send me into a trance where I am so full of fear that Sometimes I dare not move, yet the more the moments go by my mood calms, memory fades. I don't want to hold on to the memory as I know its crooked and corrupt and my body's defense for myself....its the all unknowing, the lack of understandable, the irrational, the rasp of being just half dead, the life has left yet the soul imitates.

It's like the constant "Hi ,How are you? "oh great", "living the dream", "can't complain" and quickly you deflect it back on to them as you have just told a lie,"And you" or "and how are you"?. You're hurting , dead within but you know that polite greetings isn't an invitation of shit and even if you were to say something, even small yet odd in the sense of the just made everything uncomfortable and you may just have been closest to discerning how a person with PTSD feels everyday. Uncomfortable, agitated, fearful of the unknown, half dead ,something missing but you don't want to be troublesome.Pretending to be okay, pretending to live, the walking, talking dead.

The half soul

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