Before Middle After: Chained Keys

pink life (c) auroramorealist

The above was me… who I was and how I viewed my life.

Before being crashed into PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) in 2011.

What you see next is what it feels like to be in PTSD, unable to see past it to when you will be back to yourself.

after (c) auroramorealist

You feel like that dog looking out the window, like the black dogs William Styron wrote of, like the outlined woman with nothing inside the outlines, like a being who can watch and observe but with limitations on stimulations, time and expression like never before. Everything takes so much more energy than ever before.

The truth is, you may never be back to yourself.

You may have to invent a whole new you.

aftermiddle (c) auroramorealist

It is like being held inside a box you want out of but you didn’t put yourself there so you can’t find the key to getting out. So you keep yourself protected, carry yourself with the same character, scruples, integrity and intelligence you always had. It’s just that your coping skills are so compromised that staying home, keeping everything  inside where no one can hurt you with it, attack your vulnerability and courage to share as if you are somehow, at fault and to blame for the PTSD nevermind for wanting only rightness and goodness.

My eyes pain daily from crying even though I almost cannot cry any more. Two years of tears was enough for any rusty tug to sail on. Yet, I flounder.

These collages surprised me, as did the little box, all made in courses on recovering from PTSD.  I thought the black represented the worst was over, showed where I had been driven by a relentless chain of trauma after loss after loss after trauma. The pink was where I was headed.  I thought. I hoped.

The truth is, I am not even close to the pink collage… not even close. I am more between the black collage and just keeping myself safe, protecting my emotions and fragility by keeping the lid on the box I made. If I let myself out, I will only be hurt again anyway… better to stay away from those with ulterior motives, hidden agendas and no kind heart.

 I am safer that way, I have found.

As soon as we let love in, we become so vulnerable that any indiscretion or judgmentalness smacks us down, back into full blown PTSD.

Why can’t everyone just want purity, goodness and kindness and actually walk/live that instead of just say it… talk is cheap. Not walking your talk is even cheaper.

Hoping to finish the book on this one day.  Just sharing what I can for now so you know I am still here. There really is no after. Not for me. Not yet. If ever. I am between the black depths and the box of safety at any given moment. Thank goodness for social media that “shows” something else  for my all long distance relatives. This is also why I dislike social media, what you SEE is NOT real. It never is. It’s all a projection, all about image and meism. But it does serve a purpose for some things as above. Couldn’t very well share this on “Crackbook” where everyone jumps to tell you not to share your private business on there whilst sharing their private bodily business openly like nobody’s business. Writers will get me. So will those who have walked the mental and emotional trauma road.

See you soon!

Writing on.

(c) AuroraMorealist

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6 thoughts on “Before Middle After: Chained Keys

  1. ‘You may have to invent a whole new you’……there are two camps, those whom believe it true and they who think it impossible for themselves. I tend to visit both camps. My preference is camp one.

    Haaard shtufffs, but good shtufffs as well. I was challenged; inspired in a way I thought not possible considering where this comes from. My first time here and my first read here. First thought, what a bum’s rush. But that is how many people live their lives; slammed against a brick wall over and over. You wish for it not to be that way, still, wishing upon a star does change that which rubs raw the insides.

    • Well said. Love your name. The thing is I don’t actually wish for much. Maybe that’s my problem. I can’t vision for myself as well as for others. Transforming as I go, learning as I grow… Thank you for your visit and comments. Sign me grateful for everything even though sometimes I do question my gratitude, lol. Not for your comment, though, Hudson Howl, you remind me of a wise friend Lorna’s Voice who also leaves me comments of a sage. Thank you. :)

  2. The book is therapy. I hope you finish it.

    And remember this, PTSD or not, we can never be the same people we were “back then” to whatever time ago we are harkening back to in our mind’s eye. All of us change and grow. Going back is not an option, no matter how we wish we could for any number of reasons. Forward, growth, is our only option–well, I suppose stagnation is an option, too!

    The point is that any collage I made of myself when I was young–before my chronic fatigue struck–is only a representation of a “then Lorna” who is long gone. The “now Lorna ” remembers her and knows her, but will never be her because the “now Lorna” has grown so far beyond what the “then Lorna” ever knew was possible. And that’s okay. It’s all okay. Actually, it’s all quite amazing. So try not to despair too much over that which you feel you’ve lost; celebrate who you’ve become because of that glorious person you grew from–the one who gave you your foundation.

    • It is so great the way you frame that. I have been feeling better and doing a lot better but I struggle with so many things still that I just have to accept that this may be as good as it gets for me. And that’s really okay with me, I am at peace with it. Whenever I run across things like these from courses and healing groups, I am always confused by the way things can change so fast. For worse or better. We just never know. Thank you for adding your experience and wisdom to this. Signed, the new and not so in a rush to live her life woman who thinks it’s a good day if her shoes match, LOL ;)

Love and peace to you... your thoughts are always welcome here...

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