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I feel like Im dying inside!!!
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 657760" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>These last few days I have been up all night, unable to sleep, a kind of mania to ward off, now, and yesterday, the sadness came.</p><p></p><p>Since the news about Omar Sharif and Alzheimer's I have been counting the years I have left to live fully, if I can. I figure, if I am lucky, 15 years, not many.</p><p></p><p>I count back to 15 years ago, to see where I was, who I was.</p><p></p><p>Living in different countries, learning languages, learning dances, studying in 4 colleges, working in 7 different towns, learning and playing bridge, doing art and photography, buying a house and remodeling it. Found a nice man. Parenting my son from age 11 to 26.</p><p></p><p>And 3 years of those years my Mother's, caring for her, and the horrible devastation that followed that I will call mourning her...but it was really a sort of death of self.</p><p></p><p>Fifteen years is enough life left. If I live it.</p><p></p><p>Except I'm not.</p><p></p><p>Re-entering a protracted period of devastation about my son, would mean I am giving up years of life that I do not have to give. I have already been in bed over a year and a half---because I have not felt able to confront the truths of my life.</p><p></p><p>I must begin to participate in the FOO Chronicles. There is so much horror there in me that continues to form what is now.</p><p></p><p>To try to resurrect my Mother, I tried to kill myself off psychically. To save my son, I try again. There has to be more tools in my toolbox, so as to repeatedly kill my self off. Freudian slip.</p><p></p><p>This is what makes PTSD so disabling. The original trauma is repeated and repeated and repeated triggered by remote and unrelated events.</p><p></p><p>Feelings, relationships, absolutely unrelated to the trauma itself, trigger it.</p><p></p><p>As if there is some interiorized exploding remote control bomb in you; fate or G-d or whoever has chosen to put in you some delayed release death capsule that intermittently releases its toxins.</p><p></p><p>Or worse yet, that your life navigation system or Geiger counter is so distorted, so mal-programmed that thinking you are going for the gold you instead seek out disordered people who harm you...as to self-implode...re-aligning with your true destiny which is a child in trouble.</p><p></p><p>I need to remember this in relation to M. He is the only person in my life that I have ever even kind of trusted, and the only one I have trusted to be close to me. The true word is care.</p><p></p><p> Yes they were. In my case, I chose him.</p><p></p><p>This is where the metaphor of chewing off limbs in a trap serves me.</p><p></p><p>Cedar, I will begin to post on the FOO Files....it frightens me because I am tender there and fear exposing myself to the responses of all. As I write I realize that is precisely this that cleanses and strengthens. I will do it. Thank you, Cedar.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 657760, member: 18958"] These last few days I have been up all night, unable to sleep, a kind of mania to ward off, now, and yesterday, the sadness came. Since the news about Omar Sharif and Alzheimer's I have been counting the years I have left to live fully, if I can. I figure, if I am lucky, 15 years, not many. I count back to 15 years ago, to see where I was, who I was. Living in different countries, learning languages, learning dances, studying in 4 colleges, working in 7 different towns, learning and playing bridge, doing art and photography, buying a house and remodeling it. Found a nice man. Parenting my son from age 11 to 26. And 3 years of those years my Mother's, caring for her, and the horrible devastation that followed that I will call mourning her...but it was really a sort of death of self. Fifteen years is enough life left. If I live it. Except I'm not. Re-entering a protracted period of devastation about my son, would mean I am giving up years of life that I do not have to give. I have already been in bed over a year and a half---because I have not felt able to confront the truths of my life. I must begin to participate in the FOO Chronicles. There is so much horror there in me that continues to form what is now. To try to resurrect my Mother, I tried to kill myself off psychically. To save my son, I try again. There has to be more tools in my toolbox, so as to repeatedly kill my self off. Freudian slip. This is what makes PTSD so disabling. The original trauma is repeated and repeated and repeated triggered by remote and unrelated events. Feelings, relationships, absolutely unrelated to the trauma itself, trigger it. As if there is some interiorized exploding remote control bomb in you; fate or G-d or whoever has chosen to put in you some delayed release death capsule that intermittently releases its toxins. Or worse yet, that your life navigation system or Geiger counter is so distorted, so mal-programmed that thinking you are going for the gold you instead seek out disordered people who harm you...as to self-implode...re-aligning with your true destiny which is a child in trouble. I need to remember this in relation to M. He is the only person in my life that I have ever even kind of trusted, and the only one I have trusted to be close to me. The true word is care. Yes they were. In my case, I chose him. This is where the metaphor of chewing off limbs in a trap serves me. Cedar, I will begin to post on the FOO Files....it frightens me because I am tender there and fear exposing myself to the responses of all. As I write I realize that is precisely this that cleanses and strengthens. I will do it. Thank you, Cedar. [/QUOTE]
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