My post-surgery condition is improving, thank God. I’ve been feeling nauseous, dead beat and weak over the past few days, spread out on the couch on most days. I take it, these are the aftereffects of buckets of antibiotics they literally flushed me with. All kinds of pharmaceutical medication is particularly hard on my system, my body is very unforgiving in this regard. The entire experience was pretty sobering and humbling and has reminded me of how quickly one can come within the fangs of death. I had actually written a farewell letter to my folks on the night before surgery. I had prepared myself for not waking up. And the bright side of this: On the day of the surgery I had expected to be out of my mind with anxiety culminating in panic – which is the current status quo on most every day -, but was comparably collected and calm – at least on the outside. Inside I felt a sense of being able to let go. I very much hope, I’m going to sense this much peace in my dying hour as well.
Today, as I’m noticing my system coming around from the medical shock it was exposed to, I am sensing the beginning waves of recurring rage – and the latter from despair. I really have exhausted all my current options – and had been doing so previously in my life as well. This is a frustrating, bordering on devastating outcome of near six years of introspection, plenty of personal research, an oddyssee through the medical system and all this following a path of structured regression along the guideposts of emotional injury in order to find the causing experiences and all of that doing so in hopes of getting a chance to remove those outcomes. As I’ve said a couple of times over the past few blogs, I am now faced with the realization that there is no such thing as “removing” and washing away the imprints of early endured trauma to be followed by repeated trauma along with major abuse that was geared towards getting me “in line” – by means of plenty of emotional, verbal and physical violence. My entire system has been in a state of alarm and shock from pretty much my first days on the planet – until now, 48.5 years later. As soon as something happens that feels only remotely close to the original experiences that traumatized me, my system goes into a full flight-or-fight mode. Those of you suffering from PTSD or C-PTSD will know what I’m talking about as you’re unfortunately and likely experiencing the same or a similar thing.
In my adult years from about age 20 going forward, I had somehow “ordered” myself a course of action that was supposed to come across as the least bit suspicious or out of the norm. I had literally practiced and trained myself into appearing cool, collected, normal. The only thing I’ve never gained control over were those bouts of utter depression and the latter most likely coming from this experience of utter, utter solitude, which again stems from having to deal with this brutal condition on my own for the “better” part of the past 25 years. I am still not all sure as to the benefits of having found fellow “travellers”, but lean towards saying that seeing myself no longer alone with this has given me a shred of belonging, albeit belonging with a group of people the bulk of society will regard as losers. Speaking of society: I have come to shudder in the face of where society went in this day and age. Technically speaking, we have returned to full blown savagery. There used to be values and a sense of connectedness coming from an idea of likeness. I don’t find much of that present any more. Everyone on their own and by all means, if necessary. We have traded some thousand years of cultivating the species for the almighty dollar. There is another reason to be enraged about. I would not blink an eye if I had access to a several megaton H-bomb – and blow the entire planet up without any second consideration. The species failed and “God” (what God?) has given up on us. But that’s a different thread.
So – the war cry, rage and going back to something that’s been feeling like survival for pretty much forever. It’s an insane way to live, yes. But it’s this or suicide. And I don’t mean suicide in your typical “Oh, yada, yada, I don’t want to live any longer” kind of way. I very much want to live, this much I have learnt about myself. If for nothing else, then for advocating the condition and opening the eyes of the unassuming public, who keep punishing and sanctioning people like me for having endured horrible things. At least in this one aspect, I’m relieved to find that I’m not the only one who encountered the brutality of what is called society. So I guess, I’m answering my own question of three weeks ago by saying: No. It’s not over just yet. We’re going back to war.