I know that so often I want to write from the position that my dear friend calls the “brainiac,” position. I have always used that position as a tool to keep my feelings of helplessness and hopelessness from being so dominant. Today I cant do that. I am sitting here and I am in the place of not knowing much about life. Listening to a very dear man in my life talk about suicide and sensing that despair today myself, I am faced with that tension again of dealing with that energy that I carry that negates and can destroy a part of me that if it is destroyed, I want out of here also.
“I woke up this morning to an empty sky.” (1) I dont like to own that this is the place where I am because when I do, I fear that all who I have in my life will leave. It is that simple.
I am going to write about something that has facilitated this journey into this complex PTSD that I carry. A few years ago I was accused of doing something that has made it so it is difficult for me to even live in the world. The events of a few years ago triggered me into going into a place where much of life feels like a fog and as a friend of mine said the other day, “I feel like I am walking around asleep.” So much of life has been like that. I have missed and still miss so often that vitality that you see in a child, or a person who is living out of that authentic self.
” I’m waiting, waiting on a sunny day, it’s gonna chase the clouds away.”(2) I was listening to a woman speak this morning on a show I listen to a lot and she was talking about the thing we lose that if we do, it doesnt matter what happens to us. Nothing is going to make life any better if I feel this and that is a really sad place to be. That thing is hope.
“The main question is how we change ourselves” I am sitting here and looking around the blog and noticing that it is almost all women who “like” the posts and comment. I am not saying that men dont follow the blog because there are some wonderful men who acknowledge that there is a connection to the issues written about here. But men dont talk about this shit. I dont blame them, because the last place a man wants to be seen is having fallen down and is struggling. That was why the book “I Dont Want to Talk About It,” was so life changing for me. For once men and depression was talked about and I could connect to the dis-ease that others felt and were living with and through.
What really is the issue, for me and I suspect many others, is the violence perpetrated on us as boys. It was “normal,” and accepted to discipline boys using violence. It is not talked about. It is not talked about in AA meetings and it is not talked about in culture. What is screwed up about that is if I dont talk about it, I have a chance to repeat it.
That was why when I was accused of harming someone I was close to it affected me so deeply. It triggered a level of emotional/psychological pain and activated that energy that I have carried in my body all my life. Once that energy was triggered, I lost the ability to use my mind to keep it from effecting me. The brainiac could not suppress it any more. I suffered and still do at a certain level.
123 RV, SA, JW, RW, JZ, PA!
All quote from Carl Jung except (1) Bruce Springsteen Empty Sky.
(2) Bruce Springsteen Waiting on a Sunny Day.