How many others out there know what it feels like to physically feel a memory from long ago? To feel the tremors from a mortar or rocket round, to hear over and over the song of the bulluts over your head, or even worse, to feel those people raping me....3 different sets of people over 10 years?
How bad is it for others who experience these sensations while doing normal things like work or playing with your kids. It's so frustrating to be at work and have to fight for reality....to realize that I am in my office, not in Iraq or in a child molesters fucking bed.
WTF??? This shit has to go away soon or I don't know what I will do.
Showing posts with label physical memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label physical memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Just Checking In with Myself
So the Doc's back this week....that's over three weeks since I have had any contact with her. She went somewhere where she wasn't sure her cell would work...or how much it would cost and I am pretty sure she doesn't get her email outside of the VA. So....despite quite a few shitty experiences, I am kind of proud AND yet sad, that I made it for three whole weeks with out emailing, calling, or texting her.
I am proud becuase it makes me realize that I, ME, made it through those rough times with the flashbacks, the horrible memories, and the other shit of misery. Despite being at a Luaua and having to strenously fight to remember that I was in Hawaii and NOT at Camp Anaconda, I made it through without having to call the Doc. That was REALLY hard becuase I really wanted to talk with her and felt like I needed help. Another time that was a bitch was when I actually had some time to hang with a friend who lived out there. We got a little drunk...although I didn't drink anywhere near as much as I "felt" like I did the next morning...but I think that's a whole nother issue. In any event, I woke up VERY early at my buddies house, despite having gotten back from the bar a few hours earlier. I was up for the day and fucking miserable so I decided to turn on my radio and check out the Hawaiian music scene....dumb fucking choice and I didn't even see it coming!!!!! A song came on that was popular when I was a kid...when I was a kid going through the second round of sexual abuse by a new group of fuckheads. I have a very clear memory now....and I don't know why it never bothered me before or why I had never remembered it before...of that song playing on the TV in the babysitters living room while the daughter wanted me to smell her fucking feet. Somehow this led to us playing in the back room...which was me more or less having to do all this stupid shit while being naked. It was that day, when her mom, the fucking babysitter, came in the room and my second round of hell...and in a lot of ways the WORST round...began. The woman was crazy. She had us punished by the husband, but then she was all nice and sweet...while having us get undressed all the way. I am not going into details here becuase it fucking makes me want to puke my life and soul out...maybe be dead. Is that so bad an idea sometimes???? I don't know how to answer that one. All I know is that I get confused to this day when it comes to what people, especially women, are thinking or wanting when they seem to be in too much of one extreme mood. This woman was "nice" about us (there were four of us kids there, including their two kids) getting raped. She was screaming about how bad it was that I had my pants off...and I was about 6/7 fucking years old, laughing when her husband spanked our bare asses, and then all sweet and not wanting him to "hurt us" while we got abused by that fuck and her.
OK....gotten myself a LOT worked up now...gonna stop thinking and writing about it. The point was that I was, I think, well within reason of HAVING to call the Doc, or her stand-in, but that I didn't. I breathed, and rationalized, and centered my way through each time until each hell or memory or thought or feeling went away.
I was also sad though that I was able to do this. Not sad in a miserable or depressed way...but then I am not sure in what way it was though. The big bottom line is that I just MISSED my Doc. I'd say it's about 50/50 on what I missed. I mean, I needed the sessions and I REALLY could have used her help during those times. But I also think of her as a friend and since I don't have that many (maybe 3???) and I try to talk to them every week....it was kinda sad not being able to talk with the Doc. Plus, there is the realization that whatever her trip was (work, vacation, honeymoon, Antartica, Barbados, ets.)...it's really none of my business. I guess it really pisses me off too. I remember when my mother's shrink would go to lunch with her twenty years ago. Now, there are so many fucking rules, and maybe some of them are the Doc's choice, but there is apparently NO way that we could ever be real friends. I believe that I will never be able to invite her over to a BBQ with my wife, kids, and other friends or that, as another example, I have NO business asking her any personal questions (which does seem onesided no matter HOW you slice it).
I think I have lamented on this before, and it is somewhat...bad?...that I am apparently so bothered by this. I sometimes wonder how much of my feelings for the Doc I am ignoring or glossing over...and how much of that really matters any. The important thing is that I found a Doc that I can trust, who has the kick-ass skills to help me, and who's one of the best people I have EVER met!!!!
I am proud becuase it makes me realize that I, ME, made it through those rough times with the flashbacks, the horrible memories, and the other shit of misery. Despite being at a Luaua and having to strenously fight to remember that I was in Hawaii and NOT at Camp Anaconda, I made it through without having to call the Doc. That was REALLY hard becuase I really wanted to talk with her and felt like I needed help. Another time that was a bitch was when I actually had some time to hang with a friend who lived out there. We got a little drunk...although I didn't drink anywhere near as much as I "felt" like I did the next morning...but I think that's a whole nother issue. In any event, I woke up VERY early at my buddies house, despite having gotten back from the bar a few hours earlier. I was up for the day and fucking miserable so I decided to turn on my radio and check out the Hawaiian music scene....dumb fucking choice and I didn't even see it coming!!!!! A song came on that was popular when I was a kid...when I was a kid going through the second round of sexual abuse by a new group of fuckheads. I have a very clear memory now....and I don't know why it never bothered me before or why I had never remembered it before...of that song playing on the TV in the babysitters living room while the daughter wanted me to smell her fucking feet. Somehow this led to us playing in the back room...which was me more or less having to do all this stupid shit while being naked. It was that day, when her mom, the fucking babysitter, came in the room and my second round of hell...and in a lot of ways the WORST round...began. The woman was crazy. She had us punished by the husband, but then she was all nice and sweet...while having us get undressed all the way. I am not going into details here becuase it fucking makes me want to puke my life and soul out...maybe be dead. Is that so bad an idea sometimes???? I don't know how to answer that one. All I know is that I get confused to this day when it comes to what people, especially women, are thinking or wanting when they seem to be in too much of one extreme mood. This woman was "nice" about us (there were four of us kids there, including their two kids) getting raped. She was screaming about how bad it was that I had my pants off...and I was about 6/7 fucking years old, laughing when her husband spanked our bare asses, and then all sweet and not wanting him to "hurt us" while we got abused by that fuck and her.
OK....gotten myself a LOT worked up now...gonna stop thinking and writing about it. The point was that I was, I think, well within reason of HAVING to call the Doc, or her stand-in, but that I didn't. I breathed, and rationalized, and centered my way through each time until each hell or memory or thought or feeling went away.
I was also sad though that I was able to do this. Not sad in a miserable or depressed way...but then I am not sure in what way it was though. The big bottom line is that I just MISSED my Doc. I'd say it's about 50/50 on what I missed. I mean, I needed the sessions and I REALLY could have used her help during those times. But I also think of her as a friend and since I don't have that many (maybe 3???) and I try to talk to them every week....it was kinda sad not being able to talk with the Doc. Plus, there is the realization that whatever her trip was (work, vacation, honeymoon, Antartica, Barbados, ets.)...it's really none of my business. I guess it really pisses me off too. I remember when my mother's shrink would go to lunch with her twenty years ago. Now, there are so many fucking rules, and maybe some of them are the Doc's choice, but there is apparently NO way that we could ever be real friends. I believe that I will never be able to invite her over to a BBQ with my wife, kids, and other friends or that, as another example, I have NO business asking her any personal questions (which does seem onesided no matter HOW you slice it).
I think I have lamented on this before, and it is somewhat...bad?...that I am apparently so bothered by this. I sometimes wonder how much of my feelings for the Doc I am ignoring or glossing over...and how much of that really matters any. The important thing is that I found a Doc that I can trust, who has the kick-ass skills to help me, and who's one of the best people I have EVER met!!!!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
What I have versus what I want?
WARNING Somewhat disgusting sexually graphic!!! WARNING
So I have issues with combat related shit as well as sex. I have been shot at, mortared, rocketed, raped, forced upon others, and just generally taught many things that a person should never, NEVER, fucking learn as a child, and some even as an adult.
I get amped up at certain noises, certain images, certain places, certain crowds, ...just life I guess. The CPT helped me to really come out of my shell with people...at least in my mind. I have been able to say some things that NEEDED to be said to some of the people I love (if I really know what it means to love???). However, I am NOT able to say things to others that I love or care about, especially close friends.
Then there is the fact that I have a hard...difficult...time being honest with myself. From one minute to the next I am constantly having to put myself in check. My Doc says that I show signs of "Borderline-Personality-Disorder," ...although I am "not my mother!
However, there are thoughts, and maybe some actions, that I have that I later wonder: "Who the fuck was that???" I know I have already written a little about this, but it weighs so damn heavy on my mind that I just can't seem to get past it: apparently lying to myself for 25+ years, losing my identity, questioning every past and current decision, questioning and over-examining every last relationship. Who else but a crazy bastard would do this???
My actual point here, and it goes along with being confused about who I am, is the "what I want" question. There are some definite conflicts in my mind about what is appropriate to want, OK to want, NOT OK to want, and just FUCKING STUPID to want. I think that until I find ME, I am going to continue to be in conflict...to look back on things I said or did and say to myself: "Who the FUCK was that guy???" Until I come to some understanding with my own mind, I am going to continue to have to deal with unwanted desires and thoughts (NO, nothing illegal or hurtful to anyone....except the assholes who have fucked with me).
For instance, I can remember some of the worst digusting physical feelings from my childhood experiences (no one really wants to know those things!!!)...yet I want, and DO think about crazy sex all day. I LOVE Porn and woman...and even get turned on (SERIOUSLY) by certain groupsex ideas. I was forced to clean up "messes" after sex when I was a kid. WTF????? I hate Iraq, and I hate the shit that happened there. Yet, there are days that I would LOVE, give my left nut, beg and plead, to be able to go back. To put that battle-rattle back on and to chamber a round in my M-16 (much better for longer-range targets than the M-4, in my book) and take up watch or clear a house or even escort the trucks that empty the shitters.
So apparently, my fantasies and desires and wants can, and often do, conflict drastically with the traumas in my life. It would be so nice to just be a "normal" person....to be able to just have whatever kind of sex my wife wants and not be such a pervert with her (except for the things she likes)...to NOT dream and think about going back to Iraq...to NOT long for the feel of the heat or the ride in the truck out the wire.
I hope, wonder, and pray that getting through this PE therapy, as well as practicing the Mindfullness and CPT tools will help me to center myself on normalcy and not on freakish things. Otherwise, I should just move to a town like San Fran and take up with the freaks there...see how twisted I am????? Or maybe hop a flight to Baghdad and see what happens there???? NO...I have to BELIEVE that things will get better. The alternative is crappy, at best!!!!!!!
So I have issues with combat related shit as well as sex. I have been shot at, mortared, rocketed, raped, forced upon others, and just generally taught many things that a person should never, NEVER, fucking learn as a child, and some even as an adult.
I get amped up at certain noises, certain images, certain places, certain crowds, ...just life I guess. The CPT helped me to really come out of my shell with people...at least in my mind. I have been able to say some things that NEEDED to be said to some of the people I love (if I really know what it means to love???). However, I am NOT able to say things to others that I love or care about, especially close friends.
Then there is the fact that I have a hard...difficult...time being honest with myself. From one minute to the next I am constantly having to put myself in check. My Doc says that I show signs of "Borderline-Personality-Disorder," ...although I am "not my mother!
However, there are thoughts, and maybe some actions, that I have that I later wonder: "Who the fuck was that???" I know I have already written a little about this, but it weighs so damn heavy on my mind that I just can't seem to get past it: apparently lying to myself for 25+ years, losing my identity, questioning every past and current decision, questioning and over-examining every last relationship. Who else but a crazy bastard would do this???
My actual point here, and it goes along with being confused about who I am, is the "what I want" question. There are some definite conflicts in my mind about what is appropriate to want, OK to want, NOT OK to want, and just FUCKING STUPID to want. I think that until I find ME, I am going to continue to be in conflict...to look back on things I said or did and say to myself: "Who the FUCK was that guy???" Until I come to some understanding with my own mind, I am going to continue to have to deal with unwanted desires and thoughts (NO, nothing illegal or hurtful to anyone....except the assholes who have fucked with me).
For instance, I can remember some of the worst digusting physical feelings from my childhood experiences (no one really wants to know those things!!!)...yet I want, and DO think about crazy sex all day. I LOVE Porn and woman...and even get turned on (SERIOUSLY) by certain groupsex ideas. I was forced to clean up "messes" after sex when I was a kid. WTF????? I hate Iraq, and I hate the shit that happened there. Yet, there are days that I would LOVE, give my left nut, beg and plead, to be able to go back. To put that battle-rattle back on and to chamber a round in my M-16 (much better for longer-range targets than the M-4, in my book) and take up watch or clear a house or even escort the trucks that empty the shitters.
So apparently, my fantasies and desires and wants can, and often do, conflict drastically with the traumas in my life. It would be so nice to just be a "normal" person....to be able to just have whatever kind of sex my wife wants and not be such a pervert with her (except for the things she likes)...to NOT dream and think about going back to Iraq...to NOT long for the feel of the heat or the ride in the truck out the wire.
I hope, wonder, and pray that getting through this PE therapy, as well as practicing the Mindfullness and CPT tools will help me to center myself on normalcy and not on freakish things. Otherwise, I should just move to a town like San Fran and take up with the freaks there...see how twisted I am????? Or maybe hop a flight to Baghdad and see what happens there???? NO...I have to BELIEVE that things will get better. The alternative is crappy, at best!!!!!!!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Long overdue Check-In
So it's been like seven months since I have remembered, or found time, to post anything on here. However, I have been doing a LOT of writing in journal that my doc has had me start using. I think I will start working on transferring that chicken scratch to this place so I can get rid of the hard copies at home.
Where I am at since my last post:
Things have been a lot better since last November. I did a lot of work through CPT with the Doc regarding the trauma from Iraq.
...Then I started a modified form of PE with the Doc regarding what she had termed CSA(Childhood Sexual Abuse). This has actually been much, much more painful AND difficult than the work on the Iraq trauma.
There have been some seriously strange side-effects of this therapy, for lack of a better term.
- Really bad dreams, some which are an inter-mingling of Iraq and one of the three separate CSAincidents.
- The realization that I hate myself almost 24/7 for the guilt that I carry from both Iraq trauma and some of the particular CSA.
- The remembrance of the some of the most painful (emotional AND physical) memories of my life
- The remembrance of a time when I had actually planned, and (the part I didn't tell the Doc) started to carry out my suicide. (I got lucky that I passed out before doing anything irreversible, even if I passed out only because I was waiting for my wife to come home so I could "finish" it)
It is so strange, and very fucking frustrating to me that I have these memories of major events or decisions in my life, and that I have apparently gotten exceptionally good and pushing these fuckers so deep I forget about them until some unknown trigger brings them back.
Some GREAT News:
my friend Shane is out of Jail after a long stay on some bullshit charges from a crackhead DA and an estranged spouse. But, he's home with probation only on misdemeanors as the new DA dropped/reduced the felony charges!!!!
WELCOME HOME BROTHER!
Where I am at since my last post:
Things have been a lot better since last November. I did a lot of work through CPT with the Doc regarding the trauma from Iraq.
...Then I started a modified form of PE with the Doc regarding what she had termed CSA(Childhood Sexual Abuse). This has actually been much, much more painful AND difficult than the work on the Iraq trauma.
There have been some seriously strange side-effects of this therapy, for lack of a better term.
- Really bad dreams, some which are an inter-mingling of Iraq and one of the three separate CSAincidents.
- The realization that I hate myself almost 24/7 for the guilt that I carry from both Iraq trauma and some of the particular CSA.
- The remembrance of the some of the most painful (emotional AND physical) memories of my life
- The remembrance of a time when I had actually planned, and (the part I didn't tell the Doc) started to carry out my suicide. (I got lucky that I passed out before doing anything irreversible, even if I passed out only because I was waiting for my wife to come home so I could "finish" it)
It is so strange, and very fucking frustrating to me that I have these memories of major events or decisions in my life, and that I have apparently gotten exceptionally good and pushing these fuckers so deep I forget about them until some unknown trigger brings them back.
Some GREAT News:
my friend Shane is out of Jail after a long stay on some bullshit charges from a crackhead DA and an estranged spouse. But, he's home with probation only on misdemeanors as the new DA dropped/reduced the felony charges!!!!
WELCOME HOME BROTHER!
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