Whoa silver

Warning this blog contains truth. Truth is that I generally use my blog as a gratitude journal, same today but a bit different. Truth is I live with PTSD and guess what most days I battle depression. Fair enough I wake up get my but out of the bed (couch - gawd I've been on that thing ten years now, note i must replace it with a ma tress), I open the curtains have breakfast with the rising sun and my buddy Dick (my ferret). These actions along with the ever effective brushing teeth, cleaning up, and straitening before heading out to the gym or bike trail are generally enough to switch my mind from down to UP!

But... then theres other days. I don't write much about them. Fact is however, they do come and go. Seems a bit unfair to always exclude them and so I have here. It's a chemical thing really. Not alot you can do about it. The normal morning actions begin to show signs that they may not work this day. I give it some thought and then give it some time. Sleep is an easy treatment when its obvious today will be a tuffy. Close back up the shining sun and let my mind back to vacation for a few more hours. Sometimes this licks the cascading chemicals and sometimes not.

Recently, this weekend was one that was a "sometimes not." One these days it simply must pass. Even if it is all couch broken up with a bit of journaling, moments of ready (rosie's book was a big help this weekend "Thanks for the Yello Ro!"), but mostly just the couch. I check in with myself from time to time and ask, "Ok bud, how are we doing, anyone need to go to the hospital?" The answer is no, I'm safe. Thats a good answer... tells me I'm doing ok, just wait it out. Though words really fail I would describe it physically as being pulled down a whirlpool of true and deep despair. Sounds really ugly I know, but after 15 years I have a much healthier bag of tools to deal with the "sometimes not's."

I'm climbing back out successfully this morning. Retrospect has me writing a blog titled "Whoa Silver." You see the diagnosis is easy from this end, I know i was playing with fire. A busy week politically, physically, and emotionally. An appearance at the peace vigil downtown to support the local Peace movement. I havent been going much for just this reason. People screaming out their passing cars "support our troops" me thinking "phuck, I am the troops. Bring em home!" But I wear a smile through it all. Mom is a heavy load with her surgery upcoming. Andrew come to visit, five year olds are a task to entertain. Encounter with the cloth while I care for the lawn at the chapel, my spirit takes a hit when I must do blackface for the pastor as he invites me again to come on sunday for my salvation. Defense department pushing to drug our troops to more fully numb them with Propranalol so they wont fell mental traumas of war. That one hit me hardest I think. My PTSD took a big growth while I was being processed for Kuwait in '92. Not healthy enough to go into that today, but sad to see they are considering the 2007 Psychological Kevlar Act to drug our brothers and sisters out of PTSD. Horrifying.

Long story short, in a sense, It's more than I capable of. My brain woke up saturday and said, "Rick, thats too damn much... Whoa Silver." Back it up slow it down, remember your brains are busted. I forget it sometimes, doing so well in my home made psych unit. A regular schedule. Slow routine a garden, a bike ride, some fishing. I wander into real life for half a week and poof fall right out of my wheelchair. At least thats what it feals like. At the risk of being redundant... Going along fine/healthy and BAM wind up in a Whirlpool of despair asking myself if i'm safe. Not as scary as it is frustrating. No one wants to be limited or disabled. In fact, I'll do it all again. Push and slow down, Push and slow down. I just have to go on living, refuse to check out, theres too much that needs doing. Maybe i'm not fit enough for a life in politics, but I will continue to touch base with congress on important issues. I would not feel a good citizen if I did nothing. I go on helping out my dramatic familys issues from a safe distance, refusing to let my baby sister carry it all for herself. Make myself go out, public, the library or grocery. Off to mow a lawn to supplement the kibble I'm told to live on.

A decade of therapists has taught me to keep exposing myself. It builds up the resistance. Im not in a physical wheelchair but still feel gimp, need to learn to use this wounded limb of a brain to live a good quality life as I can. The golden Yellow moments are so very worth it.

A sleeping ferret on my chest, curled up arms up and tongue sticking out from sheer exhaustion on the bike trail.

Full day in the sun, hands in the dirt of the garden. I can feel the earth draw out toxins as i work it directly.

Watching the rising morning sun burn a light mist off the river as i reel in a line hoping for a tasty fish.

Theres just too much golden Yellow out there so I go on pushing. Maybe I'll have to stop and rest... But ill be back to push again. Thanks for listening, I dont draw the clouds often, but I dont feel genuine if I were to exclude them. Truth make s Yellow BRIGHTER!!!

Peace Luv and Ferret kisses,
Rick and Dick

Think I'll have a nice ride tonight with my buddy.