the tri-quad-of-me,thanks to PTSD


“Maximum” the five pound gaurd dog!

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I think of them as my being full fledged crazy,so I’ve never much spoken about them.
It was not until I drove to St.Petersburglast November with a therapist who volunteered to drive me there and attend my hearing-that with a federal judge who came down to Florida to hear the cases of veterans who were legitimatly injured on the battlefield,not in the ‘head’ section of barracks D.
They being-Zim Radner ,as told to me by Chet ( a Polish Jew with a New Jersey accent) and the ‘voices’…which is usually only in the wee morning hours-and the woman,who has a name but I’m not saying.

I had not really ever spoken so personally to this friend-the therapist-about my self like this. We had exchanged emails for about a year and she was familier with my case,but I believe she became most familier with me during our 24 hour journey cooped up in a car.
I knew she was a friend of Charlotte (my former therapist from the VA) and that gave me an able sense of trust because I knew what kind of work this woman does. She works with children in a very deep subject of trauma survival.

I never thought of ‘them’ as something I would tell anybody about-I mean,come on…who’s going to tell anyone that you talk to yourself in voices,in actual conversing voices-it is embarressing.
I never thought of them being connected to barracks D,more so thinking it just is a substitute for being alone all of the time.
I learned on the trip that they were protectors that are there….I don’t even know how to explain them.

I do not do well in public situations.
If I go to the grocery (for example) I have got to park way out in the open part of the lot so that I can ‘self hypnotise’ myself into being able to enter the building….okay,I will admit-there is some mumbleing to myself…it comes from them.
I have to focus when shopping. I have not the ability to stand there and check each item,meat prices-or other fresh fruits. I have a basic idea in my head and scramble through the whole ordeal and flee the place as quick as I can. If I meet someone I know I feel like we are standing in a telephone booth as I shut every thing out. I really hate the meetings in stores.
It is very interesting…I have a few things here that were purchased wrong,basic things-non-food…but there is hesitation to go get my money back. If they belonged to you and you had lost the reciept and the thing was useless to you…I can take it back! It is all in the mind I suppose….I can stand up for you,but scare myself when ever it has to do with me.

Over the years I grew accustomed to the self hypnosis to get me through-I am heavily tattood (all of them to cover ‘home made’ tattoo’s put on me in barracks D-jail house tattoo’s) and try to make a walk and scowl on my face that actually does make people step aside….them not knowing I’m shitting my pants wanting to get in and out of there.
Confrontation-of any kind….muddles me.
I cannot hear-if correctly,it does’nt seem so….the sound of bad auto mufflers ring through my ears. Once I was waiting in VA waiting area and some one starting saying something about the person who was on the TV screen on the waiting room TVset….it was something sexual-and my head went into a muddle,and the next thing I knew I was at home.
Once somebody came up to me and said something course and al I know about it was the following day a friend pointed out my statements were rough and included saying something about killing….and I have no idea that I said that because I can’t think to speak in moments of anger or arguement. I just know somehow I flee the scene. I’m not sure how I manage to do it. There are many other times I could talk about-these will just give an example

There is something in my eyes….it is like a wobble of flashes-just on the perifheral of my scope of vision,it is connection with the muddle sound in my ears. The act of confrontation sets it off in a serious way…and I have never been able to escape it.

I found when I was a trucker (the high way big trucks) the isolation and seperation from other employees and people was heaven-and to be in charge of such a machine gave me a strength in who I was at the time. Any one who knows me can tell you I always chose a job that had some oddity to it…like being a mortician,as you can understand-there’s no one hanging around wanting to be your buddy! It was the same with trucking-I learned to haul odd things,huge machines-which often time kept me away from other truckers (but not always…that is not always the case getting freight,but most often is hauling it you are on your own)…

Zim Radner is my focused guy…the one with the wisdom-he also his spoken to me by Chet. Chet-the Polish Jew guy from New Jersey-he tells me about Zim’s rational ways of doing things…like keeping his tools in place-or the certain order of things,funny little serious comments. He must of been quite a guy…according to Chet. I’ve never spoken a word to Zim,nor he me…it only is through Chet that I know of him.

The woman lives with ‘damage control’….and the early morning voices are the bigots-and I know exactly why they are there…and I HATE them.
I assure you….there is NOT a bigoted moment in my heart,it is just these two assholes commenting back and forth-and they are not me,instead it is me they are talking about….they mock me-and talk in a shitty way about me! They are to complicated to explain in just a few lines.

Other than my self hypnosis to enter stores or other venues of where people are….the tri-quad of me (which is what I decided to call them) is in my own private space,thank God-although I’m not sure of what does take place when confronted and the persons voice becomes a muddled sound and all around my vision begins to vibrate….I don’t know what happens-that’s when I wake up at home….other than that I appear to be fairly normal.
Its just that I trust these places with them.

Now you’d look at me and say….bull!shit But it is the truth.

The therapist that drove me to St.Petersburg listened to me as I opened up about them….then I did not realize it was a ‘them’,I just thought I was wacky and being stupid. She explained to me it is ‘disassociated behavior’…meaning I feel safe with these protectors-they offer escape and pseudo trust,but at the same time she said it was result of the tragic way my life went from being a boy upward to barracks D ,with emphasis on barracks D (as I was able work in several mortuaries to grasp an understand that death is for everyone…and came to terms with the deaths in my family and with Mr.Hoke)
I actually long for a good honest death of my own…but that is for another time.

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3 Responses to “the tri-quad-of-me,thanks to PTSD”

  1. sousgal Says:

    I hope this works 🙂

  2. sousgal Says:

    Nope. Trying again 🙂

    Cut and paste the link Jay 🙂 Reading your post, I remembered this song.

    Trivia: The group’s name, “Five for Fighting”, is a hockey penalty.

  3. jayherron Says:

    That was too sweet…you are very thoughtful,thank you!

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