A honey bee approaches a flower as it searches for nectar in the flowerbed outside Riverside Discovery Center.
“When are we leaving?” Paul said.
“For what?” I said.
“I’m so tired of this clown show,” he said.
Tag: trauma Page 1 of 7
Aeryn and Londo, probably plotting against me or judging me. Maybe both.
This post isn’t going to be my usual musings or a list of things to watch or any of the other usual stuff I write. It’s about consolidation. I have been thinking about a lot of things lately and it’s preventing me from getting done the deeper things I want to do. I figured I’d fire off some of the things bouncing around in my brain which I’m not sure I want to flesh out into full posts of their own.
At the beginning of each week, I make a list of goals. Sometimes, they are small. Most of January was scrapped because I couldn’t sleep. Waking up from flashbacks is horrifying enough, but at least I know what they are now and can process a little and try to get some more rest. The constant headache from no sleep is aggravating. Not being able to concentrate due to sleep deprivation is, well, tiresome.
Poverty-related trauma isn’t nice or fun or quirky. When people think being poor is just a quirky thing you do, it creates a narrative where you are poor because of your own personal failures and not because of circumstances out of your control.
The screaming woke me up. It took several moments for me to determine the screaming was coming from inside my head. It happens. It is part of my trauma. It is part of a flashback. It gets worse, like everything else in October.
It has been a harrowing nine months since my mother was in a head-on collision. Our lives were forever changed on July 15, 2024. Today, her suffering is over.
Sewing room at Gram’s house.
Content warning: This triptych contains content that may be distressing for some individuals.
Mrs. Blustein, my fifth grade teacher, brought a lady in to speak with us about politics. It was an election year and she was running for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. She didn’t have to come and speak to a bunch of 11 year olds, but I was glad that she did because I found it fascinating. We were learning about how politics work and here was a lady willing to explain all to us and answer our most idiotic questions. It was 1982 and that visit set me on a path of becoming aware of what was going on in the world and how I might actually be able to help effect change.