My thoughts on the future of this blog and of my priorities in life are evolving. Here’s where I stand as of today.
I’ve come to the conclusion that over the last year, the general climate of fear and stress has aggravated my PTSD. This became painfully clear yesterday when, during a meeting with my counselor and another member of my care team, I was informed that during one of my sessions I had dissociated for a full five minutes, completely mute, with a thousand yard stare.
Not everything about my situation can be helped. I’ve had appliances breaking, a sick cat, I’ve been sick myself for several days (recovering, thankfully), and I recently lost all but $15 of my food benefits. I can apply for a program that helps seriously disabled people find jobs in Oregon, but they won’t be able to see me until February.
What I can help is aggravating an already bad situation by ruminating so much on the political situation when I’m not well enough to take part in any constructive solutions. This has led me into some dark places and worsened my feelings of anger and bitterness to a critical mass that I have to step back from before I’m responsible for something I can never live down.
I have to find some balance between honoring my views and beliefs and not letting my inability to engage in the solutions to the problems I see worsen my condition. More importantly, I need to work through my pain and find my way back to embrace my contemplative, spiritual side that I’ve been holding at bay.
I don’t want to have to use the medium of past lives to work through my pain though. I feel like I have enough pain in 33 years that needs to be resolved. On the other hand, there’s a menacing undercurrent of those memories that won’t go away, even though I’ve chosen not to acknowledge them any more as part of my therapy. Ypres is seldom far from my thoughts though I spend more energy now trying to convince myself that this was some artifact of complex trauma and dissociation.
Was it really? I don’t honestly know. My therapist doesn’t either. He tried to bring it up during our session but I was firm that I didn’t want to discuss the matter. I want to try to focus on the present, or at least no further back in the past than the date on my current birth certificate.
I’ll let this lead where it may. Perhaps I’ll find that there was some usefulness in addressing Jack’s trauma as something distinct rather than an artifact of my own pathology. We’ll see.