Archive for the ‘Getting Therapyized’ Category

Post Traumatic What?

Posted: March 3, 2011 in Getting Therapyized

Post Traumatic What?

PTSD: Post traumatic stress disorder.  Google that shit and see the trouble THAT looks like.  I went to a therapist for this OTHER issue,… and this is what rolled out of the gumball machine.  A whole new animal that might’ve started the snowball downhill.  Great.  Nothing like going in for a psyche “cold” and finding out there’s a psychotic “tumor.”  So now I get to consider “surgery” to remove it or “radiation” to shrink it,  either way it’s going to be a sewage-ordeal and I get to canoe through it.  It’s a technicality that it’s psychological — but it’s all spiritual to me.  The problem, the process, the recovery, the scar.

What the universe has told me — is I am ready to handle this now.  Otherwise it wouldn’t be coming up to be healed.  We never stop a behavior unless we are ready to change.  A force continues on a straight line until a greater force kwams it to veer.  All things never stay the same.  And I am a constantly evolving entity — so it’s just crap to not get-it that “I” am not and will never be a stagnant static thang.

So I’m in the phase of Sybil when she thought she only had 3 personalities to contend with (bad news), and juuust found out there’s a rugby scrum in there (um worse.)  I feel a little fragile but the ammo I HAVE, is loaded in the paintball-gun and I’m slowly picking those suckers off.  I’m stuck in the carnival shooting-gallery and those metal chickens are whirring by, but I can hear the ting of when the BB finds it mark.  Yea it’s not in any planned order or sequence (Problems-R-Us, alphabetical) — but who cares.  It’s better than hiding under the counter and fighting-back with WISHES.  Not enough buckshot in that shite.

I am putting on my alchemy-raybans and looking at PTSD as if a doctor told me I have diabetes.  Not on my bucket-list but it happens,… and there’s a lot of information and support groups to help.  I’m going to have to take “medication” or adjust my habits accordingly (or a combo of both) but either requires action on my part.  I will have to step-up and increase my awareness for my state-of-being and do status-checks frequently till things level-out.  I have to listen to the doc even if they say things I don’t want to hear. I have to “grieve” that it aint all going my way.  I have to accept that I don’t want this battle to be happening to me — but it is.

My CHOICE in the matter is prettymuch what I have to cling to — and hope is not a plan.

I choose to shake the acid off the rose and assess what’s salvageable.  I choose to be the Poinsettia which can only turn red after sitting in the dark for extended lengths of time for days in a row.  (Crap, why can’t it just be like ONE?! gheeze.)  I choose to fail-forward-fast and not limit myself to slow careful mistakes. I choose to see my situation as blank photographer’s paper basking in a calgon-bath of chemicals in a closet until what’s secretly-imprinted there comes to light.

I don’t know much about this PTSD stuff (I’m used to manufacturing crises of my own lol) but I know I’m not in the boat alone.  For once, this actually isn’t necessarily a flaw on my own part, but rather a reaction to circumstances that I didn’t know had a root in my tree-of-life.  Pruning branches is an obvious thing which chain-saws are an amazing solution for — but something that threads so deep and moles in so MANY hidden forking-tributaries,… is slightly godzilla-intimidating.  I wrestle with vacillating on every aspect aforementioned,… it seems like these kudzu-roots have a lizard’s-tail regeneration-capability and my laser-gun aim needs to be fine-tuned — but what is it going to matter in 5 years?  This sitch is directly in-line with honing my new skill of letting everything be what it IS,… and serenity-prayer’ing the rest.

So the big-bad has squirreled its way to the forefront and I’m in the cage to mixed-martial-artist ‘is arse for the belt.  It’s a good thing I know Karate AND Kung-Fu.

Take My Own

Posted: October 6, 2010 in Getting Therapyized

TAKE MY OWN

Sometimes when I say things with my mouth, it’s for my OWN ears to hear.  Ya’knoooow, when you’re spouting off some shit to your friend “what you need to do is…” — and then I actually ABSORB the words I’m going-off about and have to stop.  CRAP.  I’m giving advice to myself.  They say “others teach what they need to learn.”  And some people think I’m wise for the things I feel compelled to say, but mostly I know the universe has me saying what I need to listen to.  That’s why I don’t usually give advice or ask for it.  Because it’s all relative.  And it’s just trouble waiting to happen because I am not a QUIET person lol.  The advice they’re giving to ME, is usually what they want to employ for themselves… “you need to tell him to go fuk himself…”, “what you need to DO is take charge of the situation and blankety blank…”, “what you should think about is…”  On and on and WHATEVVEERRRR.   And today I told a girl what she should say to a guy and dammit if it wasn’t the exact thing I needed to be saying TOO.  Crap.  Crap crap CRAP.  If everyone in my world is my mirror and they are a reflection of me, I need to take a good hard look.  What are they hesitant about and why?  What am I dragging my feet about WHY??  What I realized at that moment, is that no matter how fearless I usually am — there are some things that I just don’t want the real answer for.  YET.  But I WANT the truth!  And yeaaaa, it might not be what I’m ready to know right now.  Wondering why THEY aren’t taking the action I think I want from them.  Soooo REALLY,… I must want to bitch about the circumstances I’m keeping myself in limbo about.  Which translates to having an attachment to them alleviating ME from taking the action.  I want you to have the balls I don’t.  I want you to ante up first.  I want YOU to take the risk of putting yourself out there to protect me from ending up with egg on my face.  But nothing of worth comes without taking a chance.  THE chance to speak up for myself and ASK for what I want.  You never get what you don’t go for.  And if the door closes or IS closed already, wouldn’t my path be easier if I quit banging my head up against it?  Instead, I like to stand there paralyzed like a dumbass and whine about things not going my way.  (I’m sure none of y’all have ever done this <grin>.)   I said a wise thing once, “if you want your life to be different, it’s up to you to change it.”  I’m just pissed-off that I need to take my own advice.  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut HAHAHA!

The Past is Passed

Posted: July 26, 2010 in Getting Therapyized

What are the odds of running across 4 people from my long, long, loooong gone past in the last month?  4 men. 4 important men. Important in the way of significance in shaping my life.  …In changing my path… my very SELF. How many times have I thought “I am me”, and then a few years down the road remembered that I didn’t even know who I was.

The fog of obscurity is highlighted by moments that stand out in my mind — defining where I would end up.  Yet maybe it is only by bringing these memories to my now, these people in my now — that will tell me who I have really become.

I have been a bad person.  A hot mess LOL.  A flailing human who felt no belonging or sense of what love means.  What DOES love mean? A connection, a chemistry, a history, a catalyst?  These men have been all… An elusive concoction of mixing with the essence of me and blasting it to a place that I never could’ve imagined.  Hell,… heaven… compromise, forgiveness, epiphany, longing, regret.

Sometimes there seems such an ache inside,… to be who I’m REALLY supposed to be.  And it always seems to elude me.  All the women I have been, with these men.

A child seeking approval — grateful for attention, willing to do anything to be seen as acceptable in his eyes. Even to the point of self-destruction.

A young woman struggling to find her way in the world yet caught up in the aftermath of warring emotions and contradictory behavior.  Fighting him, fighting myself — unable to get to the heart of the matter.

An immature wife who catches glimpses that unconditional adoration could’ve grown into a teenager graduating something.  A first-time stand to not take it anymore.  …Without even knowing what IT is.

A lost soul grasping onto an energetic addiction, mistaking it for love. Still unable to shake the residual clinging of memory fooling me into believing that I was the root of all evil.

That I was… bad.

So these men… ushering in the flood of HOW it was, how it could’ve been,… what it was, and what it never was. Does memory serve me correctly?  Does it do any good to compare “notes”?  My perceptions, their perceptions, the affinity to move past the painful, the gift of forgetting what ever went wrong.

This has been righteous.  Sending these compartmentalized flashbacks looming to the forefront has been poignant to me.  Looking at all the ways I have fucked up, remembering all the ways I’ve been TOLD I fucked up.  …Then, determining for myself if it’s true.  So many things I have accused of others, so much of which I have been accused.  And it’s relative.  For some it morphs into what we want to remember… for others it’s about how much it has been overwritten.  For ME — it’s about a sense of gratefulness. That I’ve been molded… thrown in a direction I probably would’ve never chosen for myself.  Would I be where I am now if I had stayed?  Would I be WHO I am now, if I hadn’t gone through the next thing?

All I trust, is the right man will know me.  As I will know the me I present.  Not by sending in a representative, someone who I think you want me to be… chameleon’ing what I think will get me through the situation — but by being authentically ME.

To those who I have hurt, I am sorry… I didn’t know.  I didn’t know life and I didn’t know me, how could I know YOU?  How COULD I love you? I did the best I could and it wasn’t good enough.  It’s bad… it’s sad… and I’m okay with that.  I’ve revisited us and I screwed many things up.  I’ve thought it over and I can live with it.

I wonder what your memories are… I wonder if you know how you affected me.  I wonder if you know how much I have changed BECAUSE of you.  I wonder if it would make any difference.  I guess I should care IF it makes any difference, but you know what?… it only matters if it matters NOW.  And whether or not you’re in my now — is up to you.

Peace.

klk
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