Writings

Tag: trauma Page 4 of 7

Caught between two worlds

Londo patiently waits for kitty treats.

Sometimes, I wonder if what I write here is worthwhile and if anyone cares. Other times, I think, “this is my blog. I’ll write whatever I want,” but there is always a nagging thought at the back of my head wondering if what I do matters.

On a recent day out exploring northwest Nebraska, my friend and I were chatting and he told me he was thankful for the writing I do here. He does not have PTSD or experience depression. He said he was once the type of person who would wonder why people who are depressed don’t just snap out of it and get on with things, but through my writings, he has come to learn it isn’t so easy.

On September 28, 2021, I had a flashback. I wrote about it the next morning, but didn’t really know what to do with it until last night.

Trying to be yourself without offending anyone

Dec. 1, was a good day. I spent my time with a friend in northwest Nebraska. I took a lot of pictures, had great conversations, and new stories to tell. Then, Dec. 2, happened. It was the kind of day that pulls the rug out from under you, upsets the apple cart, and destroys whatever good was going on in your life.

It’s complicated

Although I have two things written, I am choosing not to post either this week. I may not ever post them as they are far too angry for the world to see in their current form.

Kindness always matters

Nikita Mazepin is a Formula One driver in his rookie year for the Uralkali Haas F1 Team. The team is considered the worst team this year, as evidenced by their accumulation of zero points and finishing last in nearly every race this season.

Altschmerz

Rambling On

I’ve been working through some trauma issues lately, particularly as it relates to the Christian group I belonged to in college. During my session last Thursday, I mentioned how I allowed the members of this group to convince me Led Zeppelin were satanic. As a result, I sold my all albums and cassettes. The LPs I had were first editions. I secretly kept the 45 my friend, Tom, bought me. He was a good friend and bought it for me as an early birthday gift. Other than it, I had nothing but my memories of Led Zeppelin.

In a field in western Nebraska

Double life

It was just a knock at the door

My eyes were fixated on the clock. It read 7:43 a.m. Karla would be knocking on my door soon. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we walked together to Bessey Hall. She had a class and I went into the Anthropology lab to clean and label artifacts.

I was stretched out on the couch under my bald eagle blanket. I stared at the red numbers on the digital clock and watched it turn to 7:44 a.m. There was a bang on my door. My eyes rapidly shifted to my doorknob. Did I remember to lock the door last night?

An anniversary, of sorts

Today is the 48th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, a 1973 Supreme Court decision, which saved my life in 1984.

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