Hello gentle readers. It’s been a while. At least on screen. I’ve been very prolific though. Since the last time I have posted, I have written a blog post almost every day. In my head. Every time I went for a run, I composed at least 3 of them. Finally this week a conversation I had with a friend motivated me to crack open the latest incarnation of Frankenputer (have I mentioned that my kids destroy computers with annoying regularity and I don’t like it?) Anyway I cobbled my laptop together and out came flowing a blog post. It felt good. It felt concrete, purposeful and powerful. Three feelings I haven’t felt in rather a while.
I gave the draft to Aaron to read. He had scanned the page for less than three seconds when he remarked, quite neutrally, as Aaron does, “Oh! Tourettes!” The post I wrote was, shall we say, raw.
I was all set to send that sucker live, consequences be damned, but contrary to my contrary nature of late, I had abided by the advice my therapist had given me to “maybe keep any blog posts of that nature in the a drafts folder until you stabilize or at least until you sleep on it”.
By the cold light of morning I still wanted to hit publish, I honestly think that post could help a lot of people. There wasn’t a big airing of dirty laundry or anything particularly juicy or radical. But it was written from a place of pure emotion. Fearlessly, totally uncensored and from a rational yet deep and dark place of pain and suffering and hopelessness.
Because I believe that our honesty in suffering is the greatest gift we can give each other, I decided this one was not going to languish in drafts. People going through what I’m going through (Complex PTSD) need to know that they aren’t alone in that, and those who are living with people going through it need to better understand what they are going through so that they can help and also protect themselves from utter annihilation in the process.
This is not that post though.
I will say that it has been an exceedingly grueling time for me (and my loved ones) since May. Well actually for the last 30 years or so (on the bright side we’re finally confronting what’s been ailing me all this time in the batshit crazy department) but in May, the batshit hit the fan in a major major way. The post I wrote talked a little bit about my day to day experience since May, mostly in point form as to why I wished I had cancer instead. Yeah, I know. That’s not nice! That’s not uplifting or sensitive to those who actually do have cancer. Yucky.
Whatever concerns I might have had about how that would make people feel about me because that post was yucky are long gone now, for reasons which aren’t about being liberated and confident (much as that would be a happy tale to tell). But I am still a mom who loves her kids fiercely and while my kids are not dumb and know that all has not been even close to well in my world, they don’t need to be reading about how truly dark things have been until things are stabilized for a good long while. As much as hopelessness is a very real part of almost every day for me, part of me hopes that one day the chubby phoenix will rise from the ashes…(or at least that sometime in the not too distant future I will feel up to touching up my grey roots on a more regular basis) and then I can publish the uncensored chronicles of “this is how it felt when….”
However, still I feel compelled to say that if you or a loved one is struggling with Complex PTSD or chronic depression and you would like to read my entirely personal and non-expert take on the whole scene so far, send me an instant message and I will shoot it your way. Please don’t be an ass and ask just because you are a rubber necking nosy parker though. Seriously, there are so many cat videos on youtube. Here are the disclaimers: There is a lot of swearing. I swear a lot in life too. I didn’t hold back even a little bit. If it’s going to upset you that I’m comparing mental illness or conditions related to trauma to a terminal illness in any way just save us both the irritation/pain. Finally, if you feel even remotely inclined to encourage me to count my blessings..just..don’t. I’m super aware of my blessings, thanks.
And now for something completely different.
I have this little job as a playground monitor. It suits me just fine right now. There are two particular little fellows I have befriended. They have been having issues in the bromance department. We’ve been working through it. Anyway so today the one little fella is sitting in a chair in front of me soaking up my attention and I’m feeling moved to be a guru from my world weary and wizened place. And so I clear my throat and tell him in my most impassioned yet gentle tones about how when other people hurt us it’s only because something inside of them is missing or hurt or broken. It’s not about us at all. And that life is generally easier the sooner we realize that and believe it. (PS: Hypocrite Alert! I hate all the people and they must all suffer..Forever! But you know…do as I say….not as I do..) Anyway, this kid is just taking it all in, his head is cocked to the side and I feel like our souls are connecting and I’m thinking, “I may not have much to offer this shitty world, but by Jove, I think I just changed this kid’s life forever!” Finally, he says thoughtfully, “you know what I think?” “What?” I eagerly ask with a wise and benevolent smile. “I think that when it rains, it’s because God is sweating a lot”.
It’s possible I could have saved a lot of money on therapy if I’d met this kid sooner.
Don’t sweat the small stuff guys. Ha.Tweet this!