Question:
On Fri, 24 Oct 1997 15:08:45 -0700, "James P. Mock" <jpm…@ix.netcom.com> wrote: >I’ve learned a lot about myself the past 18 months, and I’ve learned a >lot about what has motivated me for most of my life. I’d like to share >this part of my story, in hopes that others will gain something from it >and relate it to their experience. <<snip snip>> >What I’m left with is what is called Post Trauma Stress Disorder. An >incredible amount of pain, buried inside. Not just from one incident, >but from hundreds.
Luckily for me I have but one. >I’ve called this pain my deep dark abyss. About 18 months ago I faced >this abyss, <<snip snip>> >I’ve since learned that the level of my rage is equal to the level of my >pain. They are one. But instead of living in my rage, I live in the >depression. Some say depression is rage turned inward. For me, that is >probably partly true. I rage at myself for not being able to stop the >madness and the pain, both external and internal.
Hmm. That’s a good description. <<snip snip>> >The answer to taming my dragon, I have found, is to spend time with my >pain. In very small doses. In very controlled settings. The more I >wander down the other abyss’s exploring the pain, the power of the >dragon wanes or grows, but I learn what feeds the dragon and I learn how >to make him my friend versus allowing him to control me.
Now there’s a good goal for me. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text ->This journey is still in progress, but I’ve learned a lot along the way. >There is still much pain, so there is still much rage. I haven’t been >able to harness my dragon, but I have learned the warning signs of when >he will awaken. I take the necessary steps to prepare for those moments, >but sometimes there is no warning. Eventually I will make peace with my >dragon and my pain, or I will die, and it will be willingly. <<snip snip>> >My belief in a God has all but dissappeared. It is part of my PTSD. >There are many higher powers, and many more who would like to be my >higher power. I can easily admit there really are powers greater than >myself. But I don’t trust even one of them. >Although I am leary of most everyone, I have come to trust those who can >hear and music and dance or have danced the dance. Those who cannot hear >the music think the dancers mad.
Well put. Reminds me of the time I walked out of the room when a co-worker in another group was screaming at me. I found that everyone perceived it differently. I had fled the scene, unable to deal with the flashbacks I was having. Most others perceived it as strange, at first but had been swayed to one other’s opinion that I just thought it beneath me to respond to him at all, and would deal with him when he’d calmed down. It was probably good that I’d left before I broke down. This guy was a foreigner who was upset that a woman — a dirty american woman at that(a male co-worker relayed that reference to me later) — had dared to question his decisions on a particular technical issue that we were discussing. He took the same objections from my male counterpart in stride and made the changes I had suggested without questioning their opinions as being "obviously" inferior. >Those who lived the dance and help >teach others how to hear the music and stop the dance, I have found I >can trust. That alone has been one of the greatest gifts that PTSD has >brought to me. There ARE truly wonderful people.
Wow, how do you stop the dance? You have such a poetic way of putting things. In another time you could have been the minstrel telling great tales. Have you considered trying your hand at writing? You truly have a gift in it. >I’ve also learned to look for the gifts of PTSD. As crazy as that >sounds, had I not lived the life I have lived I would not know what I >know and feel how I feel. It has given me incredible insight, into >others and myself. That thought doesn’t help me much many days, but it’s >true overall. Because of my PTSD I have survival skills that the average >person has no concept about. And I’m glad for them they didn’t have to >learn them, and hope they never have too.
Interesting perspective. I liked to think of myself as an understanding and compassionate person before, but I no longer take the attitude, of "shore up and get over it" on any level, now. I was never crude enough to say that to anyone, but I admit to having thought it on a few occasions. Unfortunately, I now know first-hand that will-power and strength are not the issue with someone dealing with emotional trauma. Shutting down and denying my emotions regarding trauma has caused me a worse situation that what I started with. I never thought I’d think that what I’ve gone through has helped me, but without it I wouldn’t have an inkling of an understanding of the emotional horrors my husband was put through as a child. His stepfather was very careful to not cause any observable physical harm to him after dislocating his shoulder when he was little, but there were no limits to the emotional torture and scarless pain he subjected my husband to. I never understood my husbands gaps in memory and ability to "block out" bad times before this. I realize now that it was a defensive mechanism he uses to deal with the unpleasantries of life. >But as hopeful as I can sound, my average day is still the pain and >rage, and everything else that comes with the PTSD.
I stuffed my rage deep inside, denied it, and tried to "get on with my life". It hasn’t worked. My inability to concentrate has affected me on about every level of my life. Especially bad is trying to make it through a technical interview (for a job) without flashbacks — that’s been especially crippling for me. I was always a person who could come up with innovative ideas and thrived under pressure, now I can’t think straight under those same circumstances, have to take a deep breath, and try to clear my mind of distracting emotions. I’ve been able to find workarounds for some of this, but not all. >But I will settle for even the sound of hope.
Hope sounds good. Seems like that’s all I have left. *********** Notice: the information expressed herein is for entertaiment purposes only. Opinions are mine and not that of my employer. What works for me, may not work for anyone else. Seek the advice of a professional, do not rely solely on my personal experience for your HA needs. Don’t have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce Squirrels. > — reply to ssch – at – ix – dot – netcom – dot – com —
Mary S.
Response:
Hi, I am a new person to the group and your posting is the first one I read. I had to thank you for the way you articulate this horrible subject.I took courage from your letter. Don’t let PTSD control you!!!! I know it’s sounds like a slogan but every time I lose myself in the maze and thrown to places I choose not…I try to reach Power from within to overcome the situation.Rage has alot of power-you must learn how to use it,it’s a lot of energy and resources. There is no way escaping depression…if it doesn’t come for along period it comes to visit regularly but it means you are not repressing things and withholding from yourself but instead you face them and you feel them and this is not to be underestimated. XXX Rona -PTSD suffer for 10 years
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -In article <3453A058.1…@townsquare.net>, pts…@townsquare.net wrote: > James P. Mock wrote: > > I’ve learned a lot about myself the past 18 months, and I’ve learned a > > lot about what has motivated me for most of my life. I’d like to share > > this part of my story, in hopes that others will gain something from it > > and relate it to their experience. > >*SNIP* > *SNIP* > "Thoughts and Feelings do not just fall out of the sky. Thoughts produce > Feelings, Feelings produce Behavior". > Don >This is directed to both James and Don.
I want to thank you for your words, they have expressed thoughts I thought no-one else ever felt and put words to feelings I thought couldn’t be expressed. I’ve peeked over the edge but am too afraid to start the desent. You give me hope that I’ll someday go there. Thank you! Mary
Response:
I’ve learned a lot about myself the past 18 months, and I’ve learned a lot about what has motivated me for most of my life. I’d like to share this part of my story, in hopes that others will gain something from it and relate it to their experience. In my career I was on a quest. Not just a job, not just a work-a-holic. A righteous quest. I was trying to save people and lock up people who hurt others, especially those who hurt women and children. I was the White Knight. And every once in awhile I was given the opportunity to slay a dragon. I lived for the day that would come again. In the mean time I just rode around trying to save damsels in distress and children, and do good. Sounds kinda childish, doesn’t it? For 19 years I did this. The appeal of the quest was what brought me to the job in the first place, though at the time I couldn’t put it into these words. I did a lot of good during those 19 years. I accomplished things that a number of people said could never be done. Those statements were a challenge to me, to prove it could be done. And those around me knew of my quest, though they called it by other words. They were either with me, against me, or on the sidelines watching the game. My quest was well known, and tho not all liked me, most respected me for my abilities and experience. Type A personality would be an understatement. But during the quest, something was happening. During the latter years I started to literally fall apart physically, and eventually emotionally. The years of seeing those in pain, and not being able to save them, got to me. And no matter how much good I did, it was never enough. There were always more to be saved, those who couldn’t be saved, and far too many damn dragons and not enough opportunities to kill them. The internal pain finally got to me, and I completely fell apart emotionally. I had to get off the horse and rest for awhile. Those days I sat looking at the horse and the armor, I longed to get back on the horse and go back to war. It was not really much of a war, as we were and are bound by rules of warfare that would make any soldier want to just throw up. Kinda like Vietnam: politicians running limited policing actions instead of allowing the warriors to do their job, at a cost of over 55,000 American lives. I understand and respect those who were warriors in that war, I can relate to their pain. But this war here is supposed to be civilized. Instead of killing the enemy, we are only supposed to capture them, even if they kill our comrades. The only time we could engage in combat was if we were engaged first, and even then we get second guessed to the most minute detail, and then often sued for right or wrong, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is money, not right or wrong. And in the mean time the casualties mount. Day after day, more casualties. And more politicians not only allowing it to happen, CAUSING it to happen, but also labeling the Knights as the enemy (sound familiar to those who are Vietnam Vets?). And what I’ve learned is that I can no longer fight this war. Seeing all the casualties and all the pain, I didn’t allow myself to feel. All those feelings mounted up over the years. I locked them away. I had too to survive. And now I have to get as far away from this war as I possibly can, to survive. What I’m left with is what is called Post Trauma Stress Disorder. An incredible amount of pain, buried inside. Not just from one incident, but from hundreds. I’ve called this pain my deep dark abyss. About 18 months ago I faced this abyss, took off the armor, and started down into it. Small steps, big steps, slipping and sliding, through the pain. And not alone, as alone I’d a fell head first and died at the bottom. Along the way I learned how to make safe places in the walls for short periods of time. There I could take time out and enjoy the rest, but evenutally I went back out and down farther. Always the fear of the great fall to my death. Over the first year, I found the bottom of the abyss. At the bottom of this particular abyss I found something that was very familiar, but distant. As I started exploring the bottom of this abyss I found there were openings in the walls leading into several other abyss’s. As I stayed and explored this first abyss, that distant feeling came closer and closer, until in exploded. Rage. I’ve since learned that the level of my rage is equal to the level of my pain. They are one. But instead of living in my rage, I live in the depression. Some say depression is rage turned inward. For me, that is probably partly true. I rage at myself for not being able to stop the madness and the pain, both external and internal. But everyday the rage is here now. Sitting dormant and waiting. It is now a dragon. Different than other dragons, as it wishes to harm no one but other dragons. When the dragon awakens it destroys me more than it has harmed anyone else, so far his message is "stay away from my pain, no more pain". And every once in awhile an adversary or legend of an adversary will wander too close to it’s lair, and trigger the dragons rage. So I’ve learned to distance myself from people all together (like that’s new) and not watch TV, read the papers or go to the movies, etc. The answer to taming my dragon, I have found, is to spend time with my pain. In very small doses. In very controlled settings. The more I wander down the other abyss’s exploring the pain, the power of the dragon wanes or grows, but I learn what feeds the dragon and I learn how to make him my friend versus allowing him to control me. This journey is still in progress, but I’ve learned a lot along the way. There is still much pain, so there is still much rage. I haven’t been able to harness my dragon, but I have learned the warning signs of when he will awaken. I take the necessary steps to prepare for those moments, but sometimes there is no warning. Eventually I will make peace with my dragon and my pain, or I will die, and it will be willingly. In the other abyss’s I have learned why I became a White Knight in the first place. The memories are still few, but the witnesses and evidence have filled me in so I have the knowledge. I was raised to be a White Knight, trying to save others because I was unable to save my family or myself from the madness literally from the day of my birth. I learned I almost bled to death during my first night of life outside the womb. I now recall my mother and grandfather’s mental illness, schizophrenia, and the paranoia and violence that came with their illness. I recall pieces of the trauma, especially one case that almost killed me when I was 2 or 3. I remember their battles with each other, but very few of the ones with me. I have relived some of these traumas during panic attacks. I have yet to recall much of the sexual abuse, but the panic attacks have slowly been taking me there too. But I have learned how to ride the panic attacks and feel the feelings. To block the feelings leaves the trauma locked within. To feel the feelings has been what has brought what few memories I have, though I don’t trust even what I do remember, because it seems so unreal to me. All of the trauma is behind me or inside me now. I’ve removed myself from it as best anyone could. The feelings and PTSD are here, and they are very real. But I consider myself fortunate, I’ve seen others who have it much worse. I’ve seen others I would think who have it less, but I have also learned not to minimize my pain or anyone else’s. We are all entitled to our own reality, and we should allow no one to tell us otherwise, which many people, including loved ones and psychologists/psychiatrists/therapists may try to do. My belief in a God has all but dissappeared. It is part of my PTSD. There are many higher powers, and many more who would like to be my higher power. I can easily admit there really are powers greater than myself. But I don’t trust even one of them. Although I am leary of most everyone, I have come to trust those who can hear and music and dance or have danced the dance. Those who cannot hear the music think the dancers mad. Those who lived the dance and help teach others how to hear the music and stop the dance, I have found I can trust. That alone has been one of the greatest gifts that PTSD has brought to me. There ARE truly wonderful people. I’ve also learned to look for the gifts of PTSD. As crazy as that sounds, had I not lived the life I have lived I would not know what I know and feel how I feel. It has given me incredible insight, into others and myself. That thought doesn’t help me much many days, but it’s true overall. Because of my PTSD I have survival skills that the average person has no concept about. And I’m glad for them they didn’t have to learn them, and hope they never have too. But as hopeful as I can sound, my average day is still the pain and rage, and everything else that comes with the PTSD. But I will settle for even the sound of hope.
Response:
Thank you everyone, I’m glad it was of help to several people. It made it worth me posting it. I too had trouble finding my rage and pain. At first it manifest itself in depression and somatic problems, especially intestinally. Then one day, in a 2 week hospital trauma program, I was given a bat and a chair. I was told to put the picture of my grandfather (my primary childhood offender) on the chair, then directed to hit the chair with the bat, while focusing on the intestinal pain and depression. Holding me back and coaching me was a member of the 101st Airborne Infantry who served two tours in Vietnam, recovered from Alcoholism and PTSD and now a therapist. I would not recommend this outside of therapy, and for some people outside a locked facility. I also know that for some people it doesn’t work. It took a couple minutes for it to come, but come it did. Feeling the rage I saw the pain. Eventually, with help, I saw the felt the extent of the pain and the rage. It was not a pleasant thing, and I came close to killing myself. They stopped me as I was headed out the door to do it. At first the rage came about my grandfather and childhood, then the pain. Right on the heels of it the crap from work came out, the rage and then the pain. I don’t go back there to that place in my emotions. It’s not safe. Eventually I will get there, over a long time. I have far too much rage to go there, even tho it’s been over a year since I picked up the bats. I broke several of them, and the chair. A very wise therapist said something I really think makes sense. Those in the rage need to go to the pain and work on feeling the pain. Those in the pain need to go to the rage and work on the rage. I’m working on the pain, and the more I do it, the more it brings down the rage. Getting triggered several times in the past month, tho, hasn’t helped. I’ve gotten rather violent in a very focused way, and delivered some rather threatening messages to people in positions of power to leave me the f*ck alone. I don’t recommend doing bomb disposal work unless you know bombs pretty damn good. Most ordnance people blow them up, from a respectful distance, rather than mess with diffusing them. PTSD is up close and very personal. Thanks again everyone, and hang in there….. We only get one go round in this life. Whatever happened to us doesn’t change that. Tho most of us may wanna check out early, remember, there are no second chances. Don’t let those people or person who brought your PTSD to you win. You CAN do it, and survive. Life may never be the same, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get better. Take small steps… Jim
Response:
On Fri, 24 Oct 1997 15:08:45 -0700, "James P. Mock" <jpm…@ix.netcom.com> wrote: >I’ve learned a lot about myself the past 18 months, and I’ve learned a >lot about what has motivated me for most of my life. I’d like to share >this part of my story, in hopes that others will gain something from it >and relate it to their experience.
Thanks for posting, James! I just left the hospital for PTSD and major depression treatment (Viet Nam ‘69- ‘70 , 1/5th Mech). Your story touched so many chords and expresses the "pain" so well. Again thanks!
Response:
Heavy stuff James. I picture you a police officer somewhere. As one with personal experience with Vietnam (‘70-’71 as a doorgunner), I relate very much to your comments and pain. TV land tells us all, cops, vets, domestic abuse victims (also a form of combat vets), that we should go through all this crap, then go grab a beer, "just get over it". Hey, there’s no way over it but through it. There’s a line in a song by Boyz II Men something about don’t let the pain keep you from the love you need. Good advice. Thanx for the thoughts. James P. Mock <jpm…@ix.netcom.com> wrote in article <34511C6C.A121…@ix.netcom.com>… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> I’ve learned a lot about myself the past 18 months, and I’ve learned a > lot about what has motivated me for most of my life. I’d like to share > this part of my story, in hopes that others will gain something from it > and relate it to their experience.
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