THE PRESENT

So easily a soul becomes lost though nothing seemed to have changed externally to cause it. The mind can be a terrible place, full of things to sway one back to the past, not a good place for my mind to be or stay.

And the critic? The critic is so used to being the boss, she also hogs the stage beating at me until nothing is left of the person created who is liked and feels full with self-esteem.

Coming back to center takes a bit of work, but mostly time. Grass by the creek moves gently with the breeze relaxing me with birdsongs pacifying my spirit while remembrances of all the times Mother Nature held me when my real mother didn’t have the time or willingness.

Thinking of her, my real mother, gone now for 12 years. And why now? Perhaps it is that a friend from childhood has died, one of two friends who loved me so thoroughly that my own mother’s love paled in comparison.

To know a dear loved one is gone from this world leaves a hole. To look at origin family members to fill it is like drinking poison. Only because they are no longer on pedestals, but are real humans with as many foibles as me or more.

At least so many years of therapy helped with my sanity. Thinking that duty calls for me to help if possible, it is much more feasible that each of them seek their own therapy. It is not my responsibility, nor is it healthy. Keeping my own sanity when falling into the pit of depression is enough of a job.

And it does call, and too often. A movie, a dream, anything brings back the past and sometimes with a boom, whacking me down, a machete of memories that takes much will to pull out of. A thicket of the past too easily tangling me to become mired in.

Mucking out of that quicksand to the present, to the moment, to the beauty around me that yesterday looked so bleak. All in one’s mind, a tricky place that takes will to direct and adjust the direction as to how I want to live— in the present with gratitude, peace, and love.

Find ‘her’, the person you’ve worked so hard to build, give ‘her’ all the love, care, and gentleness you never were able to give ‘her’ before. It is OK to love you. Only then can you truly love others.

PTSD

A sleep aid should not be necessary only three nights after needing the last one. . My body turns hyper so easily. When trying to wind down to drift off to sleep, one thought will wake up my entire being. The only alternative is getting up. Frustrated, watching TV till the aid takes effect, disgust arises at being me, stuck with a body that won’t cooperate. 

The next morning, more helpful self-talk returns. How do you nurture a person with so many challenges? A better mother than my own steps in and helps. Slowly, you must take things slowly at your own pace. If that means making yourself still so your mind can calm, that’s OK. 

The way my life needs to be led is not the American way of go, go, go. It is stay, stay, stay. Stay with your feelings, thoughts, and body. When my body goes about its day without the other components, sleep won’t come.

It is only when all facets of my being live the day together that relaxation comes with sleep at night. Trying to be like others who think nothing of constant busyness does not work. My worn out body needs much rest, along with my spirit, mind and soul.

Living a life where none of the traumas of childhood were allowed voice caused more damage than the all the abuse. It is the stuffing of the horrors in my little child body, which grew with it all inside, all on my own, that caused life-long damage. This is a fact that needs acceptance over and over again, because I still cling to it being different than it is.