Strange Dream #09

Art by Rob Goldstein

Reprocessed Public Domain Publicity Shot 

I am born in the slums of a jungle;

It is hot and I am always thirsty.

I drink water from the fountain

marked Colored.

It has magic that quenches

my thirst.

My neighbors say

the fountain is

diseased

But that was before

then became now.

At 3 AM

the sophisticates

of the jungle

jabber and howl.

“Who do you love most,” asks God.

“Jayne Mansfield,” says Max.

“And why is that?” God is cleverly
all-knowing.

“She’s dead.” Max replies.


RG

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Coping with no meds

The long weekend has brought much anxiety we away from home visiting family. ..well driving here 5 hours from auckland city hubby thought best to bring meds subject up and how thoughtless I was not talking to my family before stopping meds ..

I get all that but like iv Said before support of just being around not pushing me when all is upside down will help ,but he reckons it’s not only that but the stress of watching me become unwell too.
So iv been forced to take meds well away this weekend my body hates it and I feel nausea and of course no sex of which is strange to me still needing it but it’s become compulsive  as it really relieves my anxiety , and to add a cherry on the cake Mental health rang Friday before leaving to say Dr says to return all meds to pharmacy they concerned I’ll commit suicide with it lol I have had better ways of thinking how I would do it without suffering with meds overdose. On a brighter side  my therapist Becs is voicing on Thursday she’ll be there no matter what despite saying she’s concerned I’ll get sick so I’m planning healthier ways to cope coming this week I’m gonna walk to therapy from home and Becs is gonna help add other ways .

And I guess on a different note i made it away from home we travel back tommorow I can’t wait !

I’m Getting Her PTSD. Pt. 1 [Poem]

How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series.

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History becomes Her story-

She’s a beautiful soul, trapped deep in her keep,

In a place she won’t let most inside.

So I’ve entered slowly and cautiously here,

Not breaking the trust she confides.

Her levels and layers, her pain and her hurt

Run as deep as the red in her blood.

And I sit and I listen, to all that she says,

Which comes from her core that is good.

She tells me of rape, of the breaking of bones,

And a tear glistens down over my cheek.

For I’ve known the warrior, the battle hardened victor,

Not imagining her soft soul so meak.

Sometimes she gets up, in the middle of the night

She says that it’s just too hard.

She’ll leave then apologize because she’s flashed back

I’m not angry, I’m honored ’cause she let down a wall.

We tell each other, “You get me.” “You understand who I am”,

And we hold each other tight.

And I’ll hold her and treasure her, ’til peace arrives,

And helps her sleep through the night.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Do you have suggestions for supporting people with PTSD? Will you share them with us?

The Narcissist on the Seventh Floor: Part Two

Art by Rob Goldstein

Plebe                                      Plebe

There is no one as compelling as a selfish woman who covertly wants to enslave and debase me.

Thanks to my Mother, contempt is love, greedy emotional neediness is love, destroying my hopes and dreams is love, manipulating to isolate me from all that is good and healthy is love.

I will always let a narcissist back into my life.

But something has changed because I have made therapy my priority.

This is one of the reasons I must be careful about over-extending myself.

Therapy is working, but it’s painful and I use distraction to avoid pain.

In my previous letter to the narcissist on the Seventh floor I changed gender pronouns to distance myself from my rage.

I have a hard time differentiating between my transference projections and what is real.

My therapist and I are working on my rage in treatment; I can see…

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You DO Have Strength

Survival seems a lifetime as it is occurs. It exhausts our adrenals as we live in fight or flight modus.

At times we cannot pinpoint just when it started, when we suddenly realize we are as far removed from our inner self as possible.

We see no light, no end. Minutes streamed together seem to make up the days in our life. Painful days when we wake each day to once again, be the star of the wrong movie.

This is a Survivors blog, for those that have crossed the finish line and for those still on their way.

We learn that life can and DOES change. That no matter how low, there will be a high, no matter how dark, there will again be light.

We may throw the ”unfair “card in from time to time. That waste of time card. Life is what it is. It is a perspective for those who go through it. What is devastating to one, is nothing to another. What cripples one, teaches the other to get up and forge through. It is in a nutshell, a choice. A choice to survive based on the inner strength we all have, that sometimes, we have been fooled to believe doesn’t exist.

Believe in yourself. The more strength you put into a positive day, the more distance you have from pain.

The more distance, the less it can feed you, leading it eventually  to die from your life.