Saturday, August 31, 2013
Interesting Life
Every now and than I look and my life, the people who have come into it, follow it, and/or have come back and am stunned. The negative part of my brain that was arguing with me this morning looks at this and scoffs, makes fun, tells me that it is simply a rare instance and won't last long. The positive side (the side I try desperately to keep in touch with but it is rare these days) tells me simply "why not?" What is so different of me from anyone else out there that I can't experience good friendships, amazing friend finds and in my own small little world have new links to authors, musicians, and others who share my trials with PTSD? Why the heck not?!?! The positive side is thrilled, a little in awe, and loves the fact that new people are showing up and old friends are returning. The negative side tells me, "It won't last long, don't get used to it". Well, =P to my negative side - because I love getting to know new people, finding new books, new music and finding the "regular" people behind these wonderful gifts to the world. The fact that there are regular people and not snotty celebrities brings me immense joy! Still leaves me in a bit of awe but as long as I keep myself in check and don't "overstep" any friendship lines, (or scare them away with my PTSD comments :S ) than I believe there is a significant amount of value that we can share together - for each other. I may not be famous or a published author; yet, I feel every person has something to share in life and that anyone that comes into your life, no matter when or how, is there for a reason and there for each other to "rub off" if you will, a bit of ourselves on each other. Rubbing footprints into hearts, minds, on souls...positivity and love.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Piecing things together
Many people want to know "why" I would have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. No I have never been a soldier or at war, I did want to join the Air Force and took the test in High School with one other girl and a bunch of laughing boys (laughing at the 2 females). The recruiters didn't though and I'm proud to say that when the recruiters came back they told the guys to "shut it" because the 2 females beat out almost everyone of them score wise. Why didn't I do it? Eye sight mainly. I have always had horrible eyesight and they wouldn't let me fly, that is what I wanted to do - fly, like my father who was an Army Helicopter Pilot.
Back on subject...one of the things people need to understand about PTSD is that it isn't always just "one" thing that triggers the illness. Most times, like with mine, many stressors and mini-trauma's in my life combined into the point where my soul and my brain just said "NO MORE" and I literally felt like I broke. My psychologist favorite comment to make was "You didn't have a nervous breakdown, because nerves don't break". 0.o hmph could have fooled my body! What are those trauma's and stressors? Different for each person which is why no one can understand you or your pain - it is YOURS. Everyone handles things differently, what may be "nothing" to you, could be the final straw to someone else that leads them down the road to needing help. Besides, in my view point, I am not going to "list" my trauma's to you, "HELLO, what part of the fact they were traumatizing did you not get"? Finding new doctors, therapists, anything will always set who I'm going to call a "survivor" back because they all make you retell - therefore, reliving your trauma. Most people consider that "helpful" but not always. Each time I have to "retell" every single one of my "points of life", I am so proud of myself thinking I did such a good job! "pat on the back time" Than about 2 hours later my world crashes down around me again and it lasts about 2 to 3 days - not such a good job after all.
In order to get better, I have had to do some major mental work. It isn't easy and it is down right painful. Facing things that your subconscious deliberately pushed to the back of your mind, looking through it again and again to find the truth, the answer that YOU need out of it. No one can find it for you, which makes this a very lonely illness. People want to help but there really isn't anything anyone can do - but be there. We aren't the easiest of people to always be around with major mood swings, sudden depression, sometimes violent tendencies but the fact that someone cares enough to still be standing there when that episode stops says everything. I know that if there are violent tendencies it is better to leave the person alone, please don't be around them, they don't need the guilt of hurting you physically when they weren't able to help it. There is medicine to help with that and counseling. The main thing you have to remember is the person you love/d is still in there, they are simply going through a living hell that they have to manouver and navigate themselves. Others can be there to guide and assist, but in the end, its your brain, your pain, and up to you to sort it out and figure out what you can forgive of others, of yourself, and what you can live with.
Back on subject...one of the things people need to understand about PTSD is that it isn't always just "one" thing that triggers the illness. Most times, like with mine, many stressors and mini-trauma's in my life combined into the point where my soul and my brain just said "NO MORE" and I literally felt like I broke. My psychologist favorite comment to make was "You didn't have a nervous breakdown, because nerves don't break". 0.o hmph could have fooled my body! What are those trauma's and stressors? Different for each person which is why no one can understand you or your pain - it is YOURS. Everyone handles things differently, what may be "nothing" to you, could be the final straw to someone else that leads them down the road to needing help. Besides, in my view point, I am not going to "list" my trauma's to you, "HELLO, what part of the fact they were traumatizing did you not get"? Finding new doctors, therapists, anything will always set who I'm going to call a "survivor" back because they all make you retell - therefore, reliving your trauma. Most people consider that "helpful" but not always. Each time I have to "retell" every single one of my "points of life", I am so proud of myself thinking I did such a good job! "pat on the back time" Than about 2 hours later my world crashes down around me again and it lasts about 2 to 3 days - not such a good job after all.
In order to get better, I have had to do some major mental work. It isn't easy and it is down right painful. Facing things that your subconscious deliberately pushed to the back of your mind, looking through it again and again to find the truth, the answer that YOU need out of it. No one can find it for you, which makes this a very lonely illness. People want to help but there really isn't anything anyone can do - but be there. We aren't the easiest of people to always be around with major mood swings, sudden depression, sometimes violent tendencies but the fact that someone cares enough to still be standing there when that episode stops says everything. I know that if there are violent tendencies it is better to leave the person alone, please don't be around them, they don't need the guilt of hurting you physically when they weren't able to help it. There is medicine to help with that and counseling. The main thing you have to remember is the person you love/d is still in there, they are simply going through a living hell that they have to manouver and navigate themselves. Others can be there to guide and assist, but in the end, its your brain, your pain, and up to you to sort it out and figure out what you can forgive of others, of yourself, and what you can live with.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Unmatched power and majesty
My sister, one of the ones that has a hard time thinking of me as anything but myself; therefore, I don't have a problem or symptoms that aren't just a regular part of life. Anyway, she borrowed a book from the library for me to read. At first I wasn't sure I wanted to, my anxiety is still pretty strong though I take no medication for it anymore. I love books like this, yet have not read one since those my brother had once read - lets just say, well over a decade. The book is entitled Visions of Glory and is a book about one man's three near death experiences and the thinness of the veil between the spirit world and the mortal world since than, for him.
I suppose some slight history might be necessary - I fear this writing shall be long, too long for some with PTSD to fully sit through, don't give up, take it in small chunks. I am the youngest of eight children, born 5 yrs after my closest sibling. My dad retired from his career military when I was two, so while I did not travel as much as the rest of my family, we still moved often. Until the day my dad flew over this small town and saw this BIG, OLD house and fell in love. He than uprooted us, since his work was not in the current town and moved us there. We moved into, at the time, a 104 yr old house that had once been part of the original fort of the town. In the olden days it was considered a mansion, but simply due to size since it only had, 2 normal size bedrooms, 2 tiny bedrooms, 1 1/2 bath, kitchen, pantry, family room and living room. The basement was not even 1/3 of the size of the foundation. I could add a lot of things about the town, the house, perception, etc but that is off track of this telling so I will leave those for another time. Needless to say, old houses equal old haunts, literally. I have only one memory of where we lived before I was two. I remember the day we moved at two and have sparatic memories at best from than on. I was eight when we moved into the scary, large house that made A LOT of noises. Being the youngest, my older siblings were not patient with me (not many older siblings are), would tease me about my fears, and would try to "grow me up" by making me let go of my mother and face my fears alone. Wanting their approval and all of this is very normal in any family, I did what they taunted me to do. What I did not understand though was that this old house was haunted. I know that many do not believe in hauntings, yet I am here to verify that there is a spirit (ghost most would call) that lives in our mortal bodies and that when the flesh dies, this spirit is set free. From the teachings of my church I know very little of the spirit world, except that it is still here, on this earth and because of the natural man, most are unable to see it, feel it, or confirm its existence. Many struggle daily and have made it their lifes work to uncover the spirit world or "catch" technologically something from the "other side". Those of us who have experienced interactions with, can either be frightened or enlightened. I chose to be enlightened. I am not saying that living in a haunted house was not frightening or at times terrifying, I am saying that as I have grown in mind and body, I have accepted and acknowledge that which must exist for life to continue on, as I hold in my beliefs.
Due to growing up in a haunted house and other experiences in my growing up years and since my PTSD, the reading of this book has made me very emotional. Things you feel and yet do not know how to express are suddenly shown to me as I read. I am not saying that I have had a near death experience for I have not. Yet I do not believe that one has to almost die to have the gifts of the spirit world opened occasionally. I have thought long and hard about what going through all of this has meant, for what purpose and for good can I bring from it? My mind sticks saying I don't have the right words anymore, the presence, for who am I to think I can do this and why? I do not know my role here, I simply know that I can help if I am allowed. If I am in tune and open, I have a wonderful gift of discernment that for years have granted me access to other peoples lives. I often have wondered why people feel they can tell me anything, share with me private thoughts and emotions and it has humbled me to no end when they do. I honestly do not know if anything I say to them helps in any way, yet if it would only allow them a moment of peace or a thought to a solution that they find through chatting, than it is worth it to me. I won't know until I pass this life I guess whether or not it was all me just being full of myself or whether I really assisted someone, somewhere in healing, thinking, or finding solutions. I really hope it is the latter, I have enough faults that constantly play through my mind that I find adding more to the list decimates me and throws me into depression.
The title of the book is Visions of Glory as told to John Pontius. It is available in the US in the public libraries to borrow; therefore, I am sure it is available on the internet to purchase. I shall be looking to find it there, for I am only on page 56 and have already found myself searching for paper and pen, highlighter, anything so that I can go back and revisit the clarity a passage brought to me. I, as anyone else who reads it, need to remember that it is one man's revelation regarding his life. Each of us is privy to our own and shouldn't look to someone else's as predictions of the future. Their life and future may have nothing to do with our own. To quote on of my dad's favorite poems "Bag of Tools"...
I suppose some slight history might be necessary - I fear this writing shall be long, too long for some with PTSD to fully sit through, don't give up, take it in small chunks. I am the youngest of eight children, born 5 yrs after my closest sibling. My dad retired from his career military when I was two, so while I did not travel as much as the rest of my family, we still moved often. Until the day my dad flew over this small town and saw this BIG, OLD house and fell in love. He than uprooted us, since his work was not in the current town and moved us there. We moved into, at the time, a 104 yr old house that had once been part of the original fort of the town. In the olden days it was considered a mansion, but simply due to size since it only had, 2 normal size bedrooms, 2 tiny bedrooms, 1 1/2 bath, kitchen, pantry, family room and living room. The basement was not even 1/3 of the size of the foundation. I could add a lot of things about the town, the house, perception, etc but that is off track of this telling so I will leave those for another time. Needless to say, old houses equal old haunts, literally. I have only one memory of where we lived before I was two. I remember the day we moved at two and have sparatic memories at best from than on. I was eight when we moved into the scary, large house that made A LOT of noises. Being the youngest, my older siblings were not patient with me (not many older siblings are), would tease me about my fears, and would try to "grow me up" by making me let go of my mother and face my fears alone. Wanting their approval and all of this is very normal in any family, I did what they taunted me to do. What I did not understand though was that this old house was haunted. I know that many do not believe in hauntings, yet I am here to verify that there is a spirit (ghost most would call) that lives in our mortal bodies and that when the flesh dies, this spirit is set free. From the teachings of my church I know very little of the spirit world, except that it is still here, on this earth and because of the natural man, most are unable to see it, feel it, or confirm its existence. Many struggle daily and have made it their lifes work to uncover the spirit world or "catch" technologically something from the "other side". Those of us who have experienced interactions with, can either be frightened or enlightened. I chose to be enlightened. I am not saying that living in a haunted house was not frightening or at times terrifying, I am saying that as I have grown in mind and body, I have accepted and acknowledge that which must exist for life to continue on, as I hold in my beliefs.
Due to growing up in a haunted house and other experiences in my growing up years and since my PTSD, the reading of this book has made me very emotional. Things you feel and yet do not know how to express are suddenly shown to me as I read. I am not saying that I have had a near death experience for I have not. Yet I do not believe that one has to almost die to have the gifts of the spirit world opened occasionally. I have thought long and hard about what going through all of this has meant, for what purpose and for good can I bring from it? My mind sticks saying I don't have the right words anymore, the presence, for who am I to think I can do this and why? I do not know my role here, I simply know that I can help if I am allowed. If I am in tune and open, I have a wonderful gift of discernment that for years have granted me access to other peoples lives. I often have wondered why people feel they can tell me anything, share with me private thoughts and emotions and it has humbled me to no end when they do. I honestly do not know if anything I say to them helps in any way, yet if it would only allow them a moment of peace or a thought to a solution that they find through chatting, than it is worth it to me. I won't know until I pass this life I guess whether or not it was all me just being full of myself or whether I really assisted someone, somewhere in healing, thinking, or finding solutions. I really hope it is the latter, I have enough faults that constantly play through my mind that I find adding more to the list decimates me and throws me into depression.
The title of the book is Visions of Glory as told to John Pontius. It is available in the US in the public libraries to borrow; therefore, I am sure it is available on the internet to purchase. I shall be looking to find it there, for I am only on page 56 and have already found myself searching for paper and pen, highlighter, anything so that I can go back and revisit the clarity a passage brought to me. I, as anyone else who reads it, need to remember that it is one man's revelation regarding his life. Each of us is privy to our own and shouldn't look to someone else's as predictions of the future. Their life and future may have nothing to do with our own. To quote on of my dad's favorite poems "Bag of Tools"...
Isn't it strange how princes and kings,
and clowns that caper in sawdust rings,
and common people, like you and me,
are builders for eternity?
Each is given a list of rules;
a shapeless mass; a bag of tools.
And each must fashion, ere life is flown,
A stumbling block, or a Stepping-Stone.
-RL Sharpe
and clowns that caper in sawdust rings,
and common people, like you and me,
are builders for eternity?
Each is given a list of rules;
a shapeless mass; a bag of tools.
And each must fashion, ere life is flown,
A stumbling block, or a Stepping-Stone.
-RL Sharpe
Yes, isn't it strange. Paix (peace)
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