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Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Revisting Pain

Recently, while reading my newest book, "The Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Relationship", I opened yet another door into my own heart, into my own pain. It is at moments like these that I am able to re-evaluate where I am at, be it lost in the greiving cycle or falling into the abyss of anger, these moments bring me back to reality and give me a fresh perspective.

I am stuck in the anger part of the cycle, where I thought I had moved onto acceptance. Or perhaps I am bouncing between cycles. I am not raging, but I am most definitely sad. I want someone to take it all away, to make the pain stop. I reach out to friends, tears slipping out of my eyes, pleading for help and they look back at me, lost as I feel.

I made a promise to myself once, quite sometime ago, that I would never ever again put all of my faith and trust into any human being. Humans are fallable, they are imperfect creatures that make mistakes. When you put all of your faith, heart and love into one individual and you lose that individual, the devastation that occurs to your own soul is unbearable. Putting all of that energy into a higher power helps me to go on, helps me to remain "objective" and not waining in despair at what losses are being incurred before me.

During one of my weaker moments, I was speaking to a friend and passing on to her some of my manuscripts. My favorite tool to deal with my ptsd, my pain, is my writing. Getting it out of me is the most therapeutic exercise I can do for myself. I have quite the compilation as well. While updating my novel to send to her, I happened across entries that were very vivid, very painful to come across again.

I realized in that moment that everything I had been reading, that I perhaps had fought against that told me PTSD was an incurable disorder, was true. My own pain, my own disorder, that I have been living with my entire life, hit me between the eyes like a ton of bricks. It is true, it is an incurable disorder. We just learn to adapt and overcome, getting through one day at a time, the best that we can. We learn to control our symptoms, to avoid our triggers. In the instance that those efforts fail, we somehow manage to recognize the falling out while we are experiencing it, that allows us to come back from the brink a little sooner than we did the last time.

The only advantage I have over his suffering versus mine...I've been dealing with it longer. I recognize the signs in him, the triggers and I see it coming. Sometimes his outburts trigger mine. It is an interesting life we lead together, somehow holding each other together when we are falling apart, or literally tearing each other apart when we can not stop the rage from surfacing.

I have been reliving my pain today, while dealing with my own physical pain and injuries. My day has been so-so. But helping him has helped me look past my own issues.

We take one day at a time, that's all we can do.

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