As part of CPT, I had to go back in my pain and remember as I wrote. I had to write my trauma statement. I actually have written 2 and a half. One for the first Iraq trauma I covered in therapy, one for the second Iraq trauma we discussed, and part of a third one for the PE work I started with the childhood sexual abuse.
I thought a lot the last couple of weeks about the first trauma. A lot of that thought wasn't intentional; a lot of nightmare issues and some flashbacks coupled with some of the old guilt TRYING to come back. So, I thought about this and, without seeking any advice from the Doc or anyone else, I thought it might be good to go back over my trauma statement...kinda.
I think I want to write it out again in all it's details of sound and heat and emotions and sights and etc. However, what I don't think I am ready to do is put anything here that might indicate the specific event or who I am. I don't know if this is guilt or fear, but I think if I put anything here that is specifically searchable, especially names, then people might find this blog again. I guess I really don't care if anyone reads it but I worry a little bit about having a repeat of the bullshit with the past blog (facebook hacked, blog broadcasted, email hacked, all by an asshole who used to be a friend, and who probably are the reason that some aren't speaking to me anymore...but this is a WHOLE different topic that REALLY pisses me the fuck off!!!).
Anyway...here goes:
Something shitty happened and I feel like it was my fault.
All done.
Nope...that's not going to be good enough. I know that. However, I am very tired tonight so I think I just want to scratch this in...
I had to go take care of somethings. While at the building I ran into one Soldier first. He was pretty cool and we talked for a bit after I overheard his conversation with someone else and stopped him. He was talking about pictures from the war, which I had a disgusting fucking habit of collecting from my own camera as well as from other's. In any event, I stopped him and we talked for a few minutes. After these few minutes of chatting, before he went into the building, another Soldier came up and joined our conversation. Shortly after this interruption, the first guy excused himself and left the other Soldier and I to talk.
We talked for a few more minutes. I liked this guy as he seemed really fucking cool. I even invited him to our weekly poker game. He seemed interested, we wrapped up our conversation, and I headed across the street to take care of the next chore on my list.
When I got accross the street, I hung outside the door and smoked. After smoking for a few minutes ALL hell broke loose.
I have to stop here. I don't want to write this anymore and I am very tired. Hopefully the fact that I don't have to wake up so early tomorrow and that I am sooooo fucking tired, this will mean no bad dreams or nightmares.
I'll do plan to update this soon. Tomorrow (later today) I need to write up a short list for my session with the Doc. Kinda excited about this appointment, like I have a mission to tackle regarding my therapy and unless the Doc is too busy, mad at me for something, or just fucking tired of me, I think it will be a great session!
Showing posts with label Iraq. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iraq. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Physical emotions?
Sometimes I wonder about my memory and wish I had time to learn more about how the human brain, body, and senses. It is peculiar and yet frustrating how senses can trigger memories, and how memories can arise in senses...if I am stating that correctly?
Sometimes, and I don't just mean during a flashback, I can feel, smell, taste, and hear things. And let me just say now that this is far more unpleasant than it is pleasant. But how does it work??? How can I be at my desk doing homework, like tonight, and smell the same smell that permeated my site in Iraq. Or, how can I be talking through a painful childhood experience and actually feel the same physical pain I felt then?
It's 1 am and I have to be up at 530. My house is set to 72 degrees, yet it feels like 172 degrees in my office upstairs (maybe all the computers running??? lol ) and just makes me think of my damn trailer that I was in the last six months in Iraq. It's not a flashback, but a lot of the physical memories keep coming to me...the uncomfortable bed I am sitting on using my laptop, the sound of the window AC working too fucking hard, the find dust on my fingers and keyboard that punctuates every keystroke. It's probably a great time for me to go to bed, yet I feel like talking or sharing or explaining or just doing SOMETHING!!! At least tomorrow (today on the east coast) I will only have to be at work for a little bit and then go to a pretty fun function. Of course, I will be tired as shit, as usual, and that means I have to watch my temper and attitude and mindfulness, lest I get my ass into trouble with any number of people that I actually care about. Those people are all the ones I wish I could talk to right now...not that any one thing is bothering me...just a little...amped???...but not in the "fight or flight" way. More in the "just let me get it off my chest" way, if that makes sense. I could go wake my wife up and annoy the shit outta her...except she's already annoyed that I had to get some homework done TONIGHT, instead of have crazy hot sex with her. Tomorrow I could talk the ear off of any number of people, including at least 2 who I really care about, and who I believe (at least half the time) care about me. But that's tomorrow...not right now.
Right now I just want to talk, so I am typing here at 50 words per minute while my brain is going 5 million words per second. Quite the disconnect I think. What's going through my head: Iraq, the PX, that poor and fatal choice I made on the fence, sex with my wife, sex with old girlfriends, my kids, my illegitamate kids, moving, not moving, Iraq, Anaconda (what a fucking place that was...Mortaritaville we called it), incoming rounds, incoming alerts, tracers over my head, bullets hitting the building, that bitch teacher, the shadowman, the fucking barmaid, the assholes in the middle (I should put the names of the accused, that I can remember, on here..wouldn't that be cathartic!!!!), therapy, progress in therapy, failures in therapy, do I continue therapy?, is the Doc just going through the motions?, if the Doc isn't than does that mean concern and help is genuine and will be there when I need it for a least a little while longer, talking more with my wife, talking more with my children, my childhood, missing Michigan, hating Florida, hating some people, hating myself, loving myself, the sound of the generators at my site on Anaconda (loud fuckers they were!), having webcam sex with my wife(and almost getting caught by female section Sergeant), having crazy sex with my wife, staying up to do homework and MISSING sex with my wife, sleep, not getting sleep, bad fucking dreams, good dreams, crazy and wierd dreams, dreams that don't make sense, dreams that will never come true, dreams that might unfortunately come true, my mother, my father, my job, my houses, my fucking dogs and fish.....
Too much in the head and I just need to SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. Going to stop here and get some sleep, or at least try. Guess I can try to check back in within myself on here tomorrow. Which reminds me...I think I have to move this blog or do something to make it more private. Not only HAVE people actually read things on here, someone put a link to it on facebook....WTF is that about?????
Sometimes, and I don't just mean during a flashback, I can feel, smell, taste, and hear things. And let me just say now that this is far more unpleasant than it is pleasant. But how does it work??? How can I be at my desk doing homework, like tonight, and smell the same smell that permeated my site in Iraq. Or, how can I be talking through a painful childhood experience and actually feel the same physical pain I felt then?
It's 1 am and I have to be up at 530. My house is set to 72 degrees, yet it feels like 172 degrees in my office upstairs (maybe all the computers running??? lol ) and just makes me think of my damn trailer that I was in the last six months in Iraq. It's not a flashback, but a lot of the physical memories keep coming to me...the uncomfortable bed I am sitting on using my laptop, the sound of the window AC working too fucking hard, the find dust on my fingers and keyboard that punctuates every keystroke. It's probably a great time for me to go to bed, yet I feel like talking or sharing or explaining or just doing SOMETHING!!! At least tomorrow (today on the east coast) I will only have to be at work for a little bit and then go to a pretty fun function. Of course, I will be tired as shit, as usual, and that means I have to watch my temper and attitude and mindfulness, lest I get my ass into trouble with any number of people that I actually care about. Those people are all the ones I wish I could talk to right now...not that any one thing is bothering me...just a little...amped???...but not in the "fight or flight" way. More in the "just let me get it off my chest" way, if that makes sense. I could go wake my wife up and annoy the shit outta her...except she's already annoyed that I had to get some homework done TONIGHT, instead of have crazy hot sex with her. Tomorrow I could talk the ear off of any number of people, including at least 2 who I really care about, and who I believe (at least half the time) care about me. But that's tomorrow...not right now.
Right now I just want to talk, so I am typing here at 50 words per minute while my brain is going 5 million words per second. Quite the disconnect I think. What's going through my head: Iraq, the PX, that poor and fatal choice I made on the fence, sex with my wife, sex with old girlfriends, my kids, my illegitamate kids, moving, not moving, Iraq, Anaconda (what a fucking place that was...Mortaritaville we called it), incoming rounds, incoming alerts, tracers over my head, bullets hitting the building, that bitch teacher, the shadowman, the fucking barmaid, the assholes in the middle (I should put the names of the accused, that I can remember, on here..wouldn't that be cathartic!!!!), therapy, progress in therapy, failures in therapy, do I continue therapy?, is the Doc just going through the motions?, if the Doc isn't than does that mean concern and help is genuine and will be there when I need it for a least a little while longer, talking more with my wife, talking more with my children, my childhood, missing Michigan, hating Florida, hating some people, hating myself, loving myself, the sound of the generators at my site on Anaconda (loud fuckers they were!), having webcam sex with my wife(and almost getting caught by female section Sergeant), having crazy sex with my wife, staying up to do homework and MISSING sex with my wife, sleep, not getting sleep, bad fucking dreams, good dreams, crazy and wierd dreams, dreams that don't make sense, dreams that will never come true, dreams that might unfortunately come true, my mother, my father, my job, my houses, my fucking dogs and fish.....
Too much in the head and I just need to SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. Going to stop here and get some sleep, or at least try. Guess I can try to check back in within myself on here tomorrow. Which reminds me...I think I have to move this blog or do something to make it more private. Not only HAVE people actually read things on here, someone put a link to it on facebook....WTF is that about?????
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Chasing the Numbness
At different times in my life, I have been told that I have an "addictive" personality. This was explained to me by mother many years ago as: a person who is easily addicted to different things, whether it be alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, sex, movies, or even Reese's Peanut Butter Cups :-)
The realization hit me a few weeks ago, and I haven't told anyone yet, that maybe that's true to some extent. What I mean tho is that I can take or leave anything (except maybe Copenhagen). While I used to get shitty-trashed EVERY weekend until about six mos ago, I just tired of it. The numb feeling in the middle was PERFECT, but everything else was not. The same can be said of the perscription drugs I take for nerve damage/pain. I would take a "few" extra at each dosage time in order to ensure that the "Numbness" comes. But then I tired of that, and didn't want to risk any more issues to my health...namely my liver.
So, the unexplained bottom line is that I am just chasing a permanent numbness that I know I will never have. I want to not feel any more of the pain from the Death's and decisions in Iraq, as well as the pain and shame from the CST. With this emotional pain comes, a lot of the times, a physical sensation to match the pain and memory. Whether it's feeling like I was just slammed into the ground (from a mortar that JUST missed me), or the feeling of something cold, wet, and hard entering parts of me that should never have been touched. I can smell and taste and "feel" the body parts, the Iraqi dust, the smell of an explosion, etc. These, along with the guilt, shame, and pain, are the feelings that I want to be numb from. I am hoping that as I push through the PE therapy, that I will begin to experience that numbness without the need for additional chemical/physical assistance.
The realization hit me a few weeks ago, and I haven't told anyone yet, that maybe that's true to some extent. What I mean tho is that I can take or leave anything (except maybe Copenhagen). While I used to get shitty-trashed EVERY weekend until about six mos ago, I just tired of it. The numb feeling in the middle was PERFECT, but everything else was not. The same can be said of the perscription drugs I take for nerve damage/pain. I would take a "few" extra at each dosage time in order to ensure that the "Numbness" comes. But then I tired of that, and didn't want to risk any more issues to my health...namely my liver.
So, the unexplained bottom line is that I am just chasing a permanent numbness that I know I will never have. I want to not feel any more of the pain from the Death's and decisions in Iraq, as well as the pain and shame from the CST. With this emotional pain comes, a lot of the times, a physical sensation to match the pain and memory. Whether it's feeling like I was just slammed into the ground (from a mortar that JUST missed me), or the feeling of something cold, wet, and hard entering parts of me that should never have been touched. I can smell and taste and "feel" the body parts, the Iraqi dust, the smell of an explosion, etc. These, along with the guilt, shame, and pain, are the feelings that I want to be numb from. I am hoping that as I push through the PE therapy, that I will begin to experience that numbness without the need for additional chemical/physical assistance.
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