A Dark Night

I've always run this blog off of as close to total honesty as one can get. When given the opportunity to commercialize this blog at the expense of transparency of soul (and I have had more than a few of those times!) I have always spurned commercialization. It doesn't get me the views, and it sure won't make me any money, but this was always about me writing what I cared about, right now, and trying to show parts of a soul that might be profitable for others to read. They might be weird, and in some cases even shockingly so, but I have always wanted this blog to a place for the disconsolate to find something, anything, that may let them know that they are not nearly as alone as they think. And then I found myself getting into a particular groove, and thought "Hey, this is what the blog is going to be about for awhile".

Man makes plans and God laughs.

Because now I'm in a very different place. And I'm a bit surprised by it.

One of the things that I figured was that, as I healed from the trauma and the flashbacks, that life would more or less get back to what I thought to be normal. I thought the problems would get easier and easier, until there was a peace that would endure. And, for a little while, that certainly seemed to be the arc. Things calmed down, more and more and more, and I started to get comfortable. I could think more clearly, I could respond to things better.

And then the bottom dropped out, and I realized something: the problems weren't any easier. I was still facing the same question: do I continue to live? Or not? Do I quit? Or do I stay? The questions hadn't changed. I thought I'd be asking different questions than the usual "Should I kill myself or not?" that anyone with PTSD finds themselves having to ask. Not wanting to, mind. This is stressful stuff, it takes a toll on the body. You get tired and worn out, and sometimes your body quits. And when it quits you have to ask if that's the end. If it isn't you have to somehow find a way to keep going.

And the only way to do that is to just let time carry you along, like a wave on a beach. Sure, there may be a few sharp rocks along the way, but if you're too tired to fight it you're too tired to fight it. A rock is a rock. It sucks to hit, but ultimately the only thing I've realized in all this time isn't that the hits will be less, nor that they will magically go away, but I have always had a power I did not know I had to respond as I wished.

So yes, I'm sitting on that. It's not the freedom I anticipated. But it is actual freedom. Real freedom, to do as I will with what I've got.

Oh, you were hoping you'd get control over what comes at you?

Yeah, me too, but that's never going to be a thing.