i step back and give a simple context for the whole endeavor.

the "Inside PTSD" collection:

  1. inside ptsd
  2. inside ptsd, the mad list
  3. inside ptsd, backstory
  4. inside ptsd, fleeing
  5. inside ptsd, two
  6. inside ptsd, remediation
  7. inside ptsd, three, rage
  8. inside ptsd, transaction costs
  9. time shift, inside the ptsd
  10. time shift three
  11. time shift two, still inside the ptsd
  12. inside ptsd, the addiction episode
  13. survive vs heal
  14. inside ptsd, body knows
  15. inside ptsd, body knows, part one
  16. one hour
  17. that same afternoon
  18. inside ptsd, more than a recollection
  19. inside ptsd, body knows 2
  20. acceptance.
  21. inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 2
  22. inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 3
  23. inside ptsd, a student of trauma
  24. inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 4a
  25. inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 4b
  26. inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 5
  27. inside ptsd, more than a recollection, part 2
  28. acute
  29. inside my midlife ptsd
  30. one day—the daylight part—inside ptsd
  31. inside ptsd, mere survival
  32. inside ptsd, economics
  33. one day, at night, inside ptsd
  34. on the outside, looking in
  35. inside ptsd, in the wind
  36. inside ptsd, in the wind, two
  37. a is for anxiety
  38. inside ptsd, the last match
  39. inside ptsd, addicted to addiction
  40. inside ptsd, outside looking in
  41. Day Three, Haunted
  42. inside ptsd, what it is
  43. inside ptsd, it takes time
  44. inside ptsd, the plea for understanding
  45. before the aftermath

possibly related

What is staggering, is how true the details are, ptsd that is... triggered state.

I careened into, or it careened into me, rage, decades old rage that had been persisting like a well-fueled fire does in the presence of dry trees, for generations.

There are many of these streams in existence, energy moving (as it must!) through time and proximity like eddies and currents flow through the mighty rivers and vast oceans of the world, 3 dimensional shapes of substance, density, mass, chemical make up, velocity all varying constantly, and yet every moment, utterly unique in this mosaic we call the Land of Here-and-Now.

Plus, these destructive forces persist over time and great distance, with great tenacity, filling 4th dimension realms with their fury and their mean-spirited invective.

Be Nice.

For real, be nice. I had one of the sweetest gifts ever from a dear soul with whom i feel great kinship. She was greeted with news of great sadness, and she thanked me for my 'immense kindness'—one of the greatest compliments i have ever been given—and shared a poem that begins: "Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth."

I had to stop there b/c tears would have come fast and it wasn't the moment for grieving, but oh my bless and Love and yes for holding space.

Hurtling along...

I often remind myself that i'm just yet another life form, a separate (but connected) stream of energy, hurtling along at high rates of speed through time and matter. Sobering, but true.

But immaterial really, b/c there's something bigger going on, we're more than just these immediate sensations and daily dreams. There are worlds we live within, layers like the doshas in yoga, the esoteric humors and the three christian states of Jesus. So much is going on right now that to not be astounded—so i tell myself—is to not be paying enough attention.

History may note that 2013 was a hard year for me, and about the rage and its aftermath i wrote:

bless you, [dear friend]

it's been post-traumatic, triggering perpetrator stuff from after the robbery. has rocked any and all senses of 'home' beyond that which i know and build within myself. it's been filled w/ Light and Beauty, beyond what i ever expected and the Grieving has been deep and the nearness to Despair was extremely taxing to body and mind, extremely arduous to get through w/ sanity intact. i understand now why people kill themselves; i felt the ominousness of the absence of Love, and it was unfathomably sad.

i've been writing as much as i can, documenting, bearing witness.

it's all been Amazing really, i've aged considerably, had to switch survival tactics on the fly, am wary of being weary and weary from being wary.

a trip really, and it's thrown all my regularly earthly rhythms off. i'm getting everything done (work, family…) but the pacing and attentiveness are all shifted.

it's made me a much more compassionate man, and a much better teacher. am still a bit shell-shocked, but can witness the details.

amazing really how stuff decades old can mingle with new wounds and erupt in crazy ways.

wild planet.

thank you truly and deeply for reaching out. i've been quite the hermit w/ all this, not wanting to infect others w/ whatever sulfuric contagion i've been near, but spring will shift that, i can already tell.

Love, m


So begins a series called "Inside PTSD" where i write about what it's like to be me, living with a very unexpected recurrence of PTSD here in my fifties. One day, i'll post the account from the The Boy Who Fell, of the robbery that kicked of this journey of experience and exploration.

Till then, as always

Love, m


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