i share affection for the act of mere survival...

the "Survival" collection:

  1. inside ptsd, mere survival

possibly related

survival

survival is a beautiful word, and mere survival is vastly under-appreciated... for me at least, by those i've met who've never been hair-trigger from death, who've never been thrown from sleep and violated in nightmares.

mere survival is bodymind living to take another breath—celebrate that—even when living through another terror, filled only with the undead hope that madness can cease and something better can grow up from the rubble.

mere survival

we want nothing more, please.

let us live, well if possible, but live.

until the edge is met, and even that life prayer is too little, and the desert of death beckons true.

“True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.” ― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

mere survival is not killing myself, not drugging myself beyond return, not violating someone else in my mad pain. Mere survival is a beautiful feeling, chemically, the body living on the edge of adrenaline-fear and then a pause, perhaps half a breath, but a standing down nonetheless and the body floods with relief, and in that neuro-chem instant, renewal triumphs and forces dedicated to continuing our existence rise to the occasion, mere survival and bloody more.

to the unbelievers

to the unexposed, mere survival seems too trivial to note: after all, making it from one breath to the next seems so facile as to be unworthy of even a passing notice. But to an insider, to a soul-fighter, mere survival is a lifetime lived every second, an exhausting romp through past and present—there is no future—all is compressed into the space between a fast, shallow breath.

undiluted

mere survival is everything—every aspiration to love, every dream of triumph, every heartbeat, every purpose under heaven all lived through and died through every moment over and over again.

mere survival is the ultimate triumph, the bodymind's prime directive undertaken and succeeded, and all that lacks is spaciousness to celebrate another ten seconds of survival.

victory

but celebration occurs, somewhere, in small tribes of cells buried deep within tissues, between neurons, b/c if there were no celebration there would be no reason to rise, or do anything but surrender, lay down, and die.

fellowship

when survivors encounter each other there is a knowing, a camaraderie even if hatred and disgust form the bulk of bodymind's awareness of the present moment, but respect. You're still here too, props, even if we want each other dead in the faint hope it eases the pain one iota more.

Consequence are the future, and the future doesn't exist, so live now, live well and survive.

make it through, and on a good day you may smile, and understand.

breathe well, mere survival, bless. we're still here.

Love, m


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