42 days

life on the high side

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I have a problem with anger. I do not possess the ability to confront an issue and clear up a problem with ease. If something begins to trouble me-I let it eat at me and build up over time. Might be-I forever keep it to myself,that is never good either.

It has something to do with my PTSD and the experience of my life at barracks D-the way I was handled by my attackers with my arm twisted behind my back to apply just enough pressure to want to give in. I was never able to speak back or resist.

I think the days have gotten to me. My own health being like it is-my body hurts and gut is throbbing almost all the time now. I suppose that could have contributed to my angry out burst,which is what happens when I let something build up instead of confronting it right away. I lose it-I flail and scream-and I say shit that I meant only in a smaller scale…but it comes out hugely obscene and violently spewed in intent. It is why I am better isolated in life because there is no reason then to allow things to build up.

My mind has been confused like that for so many years I should know the damage it has to make me suppress speaking out when need be. I am always surprised at what it does when the thought peaks to reaches I have no ability over-I know it is happening,I just don’t know what it is I’m saying until it is done and I can reflect on it all. Where did that come from?

This is not limited to outside situations-I do this and damage so much with in my own family. I lost it the other day with my son-the father of the new born babe.

I am not at all comfortable in large buildings. Certain sounds-and certain odors trigger memories that are unpleasant. I don’t like to be in areas where there are crowds. Shands Hospital is not full of crowds,but it is crowded. My major phobia is in public restrooms-I come to find ‘quieter’ places,but not always private. It is also a trigger-my assaults began in a restroom.

On the drive in to the hospital last week I shared with my daughter (my sons wife-“in law” is too wierd for me to use) some things about my brother-we had passed a shoe on the road and I told her that every time I see a shoe on the road it made me think of my brother (Carl,who was struck and killed by a car when he was almost 6). Those shoes lying on the road trigger that day-and that is what happens every time  I go into a public restroom. It triggers that part in time where I was raped. It never misses.

Today marks the 42nd day of going to Shands. I have managed to locate a restroom that appears to be more private than others-never the less,the entire thought process begins anyway the minute you open the door,occupied or not….and there is a place where you can get coffee and sit at one of the outdoor tables and get away.  But the other day it became clear-I need to get further away.

To interject here-the new born babe is coming along greatly-at least in this phase of his new journey into the world. They placed him in an open crib-no more plexiglass box. He might come home this week…later this week. He already knows that when I kiss him the whiskers tickle his face and he makes expressions…all that is good.

But old Poppa (me) is starting to notice the pain in his body. The sitting has made it flare. I began walking out in our area each morning hopeful it would work it out-but it is intense,so…and then,there is my mind. And it works on me-I begin building up about things…there may be things that are wrong with something or what ever-but it happens. And I blast…and I did,and did so at my son. I know it upset him,it upset me. We since have seen it through,but the mark is there anyway.

Escape? Running away? I mentioned to one of the nurses yesterday I have turned down three invites to hit the river. My grandson being ‘boxed up’ at the neo-natal ICU for 42 days has been the priority. Now he is on the brite side of this phase and the nurse told me by the time I got back from this journey down the river the little guy would be home.

I felt the timing was perfect-the earliest I can get away is Wednesday,but I am meeting my (former) boss down at the marina that afternoon. I’m going to sit in a white lawn chair and watch as the river flows by as we putter down towards Merritt Island a few hundred miles south. Doing nothing. My (former) boss called it “Huck Finn-ing”! We are going to float for almost a full week. I believe it is best for everyone-to heal from my outburst.

In the bible in the book of James it says the tongue is the most harmful weapon – the most damage can be made with it than with any two edged sword. Lined up with a brain-I can see that.

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