TBI & PTSD Meltdowns…

Never let anyone tell you that you can’t have or shouldn’t have meltdowns… Until that person or health care professional spends a week in your shoes, they are just being an ass… Just that simple…

You DO NOT need permission to get angry, you DO NOT need permission to express yourself…

But, always that little annoying word, but… YOU have to own that behavior… YOU have to be the one to apologize… YOU have to be the one that owns YOUR life, no one else…

I will be the first to admit I made millions of mistakes, okay maybe not millions, but I made my fair share of mistakes in life… Yet I owned them… didn’t matter the circumstance or the situation or the other people involved… If I was the one that screwed up, I was the one that should apologize…

Now comes the gray area of this conversation, because our circumstances are not going to be the same, maybe similar, but not the same…

Those who suffered at the hands of their parents or partner, know exactly who to blame and we know that we will never get an apology or be asked to truly forgive the ones that did so much harm to our physical form and our psychological form… Bullies and cowards never accept they did any wrong… They just accept that it was in their mind, their right… Even if they should be locked up behind bars for eternity…

Those who suffered in combat, that is such a delicate subject… Like myself you chose to put on that uniform and serve your country… Not everyone will agree with that choice and in fact some religious factions in America will tell you, you got what you deserved… There is nothing you can do about mental illness when it comes to religion… It is after all about control and fear, when religion is involved… but those who served their country, your frustration and anger at having your life taken from you is a struggle that only those who are in the mental health profession can help… Along with support from your family and friends… Some will survive to live a full life, many will not and will take said life… We did after all volunteer to wear that uniform and knew that our lives could change in an instant…

As for those in accidents, it is not much different from those in uniform or domestic violence… It’s a hard road to recovery, no matter how you look at it…

My point is this, we are entitled to our meltdowns… No one else lives in our skin except us… No one knows what goes on in our brain except us…

Some of us will accept what happened and try to make the best out of life with knowledge that it will probably always be an up hill challenge… Some of us will make it to the top of that hill, some will not…

You are entitled to have those meltdowns… it’s accepting what triggered those meltdowns and learning from them, that is when you are making real progress… That is when you feel like you are living in the world around you and participating in it… 

When you refuse to acknowledge the triggers and just give into the anger, suspicion and chaos… that is when the TBI & PTSD wins… That is when you stay a victim and not a survivor…

It will never be easy, you will not always know when the meltdown is coming… but if you are honest with yourself and acknowledge that you are only human with human feelings and emotions, you can get to the top of that hill… It takes time and it takes work… It takes honesty with yourself… Without that honesty, you will continue to repeat the behavior that is detrimental to you progressing and becoming whole again… It is after all, about choice…

I chose to eliminate the toxic people from my life, it’s a little lonely sometimes and I miss them… but they are toxic and not on this planet to live it, but to control it… I chose not to be controlled by them, fear or hate or bigotry or prejudice… I chose to be me, on my terms… If people want to be a part of my world, it’s not on their terms, it’s on mine…

There is always hope to get to the top of that hill, as long as you remember in the real world there will always be ups and downs… You just have to own your behavior and no one else’s… It is after all about your journey and your struggle to be whole again… I know, I work at it every minute of every hour of every day…

2014 May 14 - 16.11.26.89

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Always Hungry…

Can not tell you if I was denied food… The memory goes like this…

I was hurting after another beating, do not know for sure, but believe it was mom that did the damage…

I got up in the middle of the night, climbing down the ladder of the top bunk… I got a piece of bread out of the loaf an a couple of pieces of ex-lax… 

55 years later I still get up in the middle of the night for a snack… Not because I am hungry, because of bad dreams…

It is a habit I am trying to break… A recent diagnosis may explain why I needed the ex-lax… That may require a spinal tap…

PTSD is a non stop conveyor belt of remembering the worse of what you have been through… They say with therapy you can take control… Sadly that therapy is not happening here… Not by my choice either…

It is a cathardic lesson documenting the struggle to break free of PTSD…. I so get why veterans take their own lives…

I remind myself daily, one day at a time… There is hope an that is what I cling too… Hope…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Book outline finished, now document… TBI journey…

The more science learns about traumatic brain injury (TBI) the more they can help people like me…

80% of those who suffered a brain injury has someone in their corner to tell them about the injury and assist on their journey… I have no such support system…

When I stood in mom’s kitchen in 2010 and told her about the missing memory and her refusal to talk about what she and dad did to me, you could say she became a ghost of a memory in that moment… no longer a valid human being as my life has no meaning to her…

I have said it for decades the VA is not in the business to help veterans, they are in the business to bury veterans… We are and always have been expendable…

The writing from here on out, will be what memories I have and there won’t be many… I have no help on this journey to uncover any repressed memories… I have only me and my brain has put up road blocks before, so it will be a struggle…

It may take another tragedy, like the one on Nov 5, 2017 when a shooter killed 26 innocents, to trigger my memories, if there are any to remember…

I would rather get there with help, but as that is not being provided, I may have to accept what little I know and work on a draft of the book that will have all the details I have available to me…

I don’t expect this to happen over night… I still have police files and government records to review… A recent diagnosis may impact how I approach the story and the book itself…

At least I got some of the story out there and I got my birth family out of my life… Toxic people who believe in a god only so they can hide behind that god, are not humans… they are no different from the primates who battle for superiority in their groups… it’s about control, not family…

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read my story and maybe someday I will get it finished… 

There is hope for all with TBI, science is showing that… For veterans with TBI all I can tell you is talk, let the demons out and seek professional health care professionals that care about you and not the paycheck… There is always HOPE…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember…

 

A Child’s Cry Her World Full of Sorrow…

Margie believed in god at one time… She said the prayers that all christian children learn… She read the bible and learned its meaning… She sang in choir, went to sunday school and practiced what was taught….

Margie quickly learned, no matter how good you behave… How much you forgive… No matter what you do to comply with the teachings that were handed down by human beings… They were after all only humans… Humans that control life with fear…

No supernatural… No magic… Just stories told by adults to sow fear in the hearts and minds of children and those adults, who are not able to believe in themselves…

Margie learned very early, no matter how much you do and say in the name of christianity… It is just humans having lack of faith in themselves…

Margie realized after the beating over the boob incident with her sister and brother… That god was just an excuse to say it’s okay to rape, beat, torture, lie and steal your way through life…

Margie chose a different path and that went against every thing her parents tried to beat into her… 

Margie chose to live her life based on right and wrong… Margie chose to believe in the laws that man-made to protect all, not just some… Margie chose to live life away from the fear that christians use to control, what they don’t own or in possession of…

Margie was vivid last night… I woke many times during those long night hours, finding my body curled in the fetal position… A position I took many a time after a brutal beating…Trying to give my broken and battered body some relief from the physical pain…

It is a very painful day… the depression is deep, the sorrow great… yet I tell myself…

Margie is alive if not complete… Margie is searching for answers that may never be met… 

Though I will never go by the name Margie again… giving her a voice is the most I can do for a child so brutally abused by the people who should have protected her… Mom & Dad…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember…

Whispers in the Night…

Margie comes often into my dreams… Holding an arm, rubbing a leg and cradling her head… She is only 6 years old and has been beaten by the woman called mom… the same woman who swears she knows her god…

Margie whispers quietly to me at night, so low a whisper I strain to hear her… she is afraid to raise her voice, for fear of being heard…

She has no one to talk to and no one to protect her… she has learned at 6, god is not real… If it was, it wouldn’t let a child be so brutalized in its name…

Margie is afraid, she goes to sleep at night in hopes of not waking… the pain makes her head swim with nausea and fear…

Margie knows the secrets of the adults she called mom and dad… She knows of their true character, no matter how much they profess to know their god…

Margie keeps asking this god that christians cling to, why do you allow harm against the innocent… what right does anyone or anything have to harm the innocent… she gets no response… She prays the prayers; Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep… yet she knows there is nothing there to hear her plea… Margie learns very young, the cruelty of humans against each other…

Margie knows there is no god, if there was, she wouldn’t be suffering… yet she continues the prayer, bless mommy and daddy, grandma and grandpa… these people who knew and did nothing, these people who committed these crimes against a child hide behind their man-made religion… just so they can abuse the life they brought into this world…

I reach out to Margie in my dreams… she withdraws to her cell… afraid to be seen… she is covered in bruises, she walks with a limp… she holds her wrist with the little bent finger… she turns an looks at me with those big eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks… an asks me what did she ever do… If this god is so real, it was gods choice for her to be born… what did she do to this god to be so brutalized at 6…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Margie speaks softly…

Many a night I had dreams like nightmares… Always the same dreams, always the same outcome… Never deviating from its course, never-changing the principle players and always ending in violence… always ending with a little girl quietly praying to the god her parents said existed… and never being heard… praying for the pain to stop and to be taken so she would suffer no more… she prayed to a man-made god that had even less substance than the air the child breathed…

Only one problem with those nightmares… I never recognized me… I never saw the little girl named Margie… the child was a stranger, a ghost of a memory that had no substance, no form… yet there she was with her curly hair, big gray eyes, swollen limbs, broken bones and bruised body… In clinical terms, I had disassociated with myself… Which when you think about it, classic PTSD and TBI…

margie
Covered in bruises…

You can’t see it in this picture, but both arms are swollen from blunt force trauma, the right hand and wrist are injured and little finger broken… all at the hands of the woman called mother, the woman who knows her god…

It is Margie I hear calling my name at night… It is Margie I see running, for ever running to get away from the people who wanted to harm her…

It is Margie with a forced smile, because to not obey meant being hit… Hit on the body and hit on the head… It wasn’t about a child, it was about an adult and control… Control in the name of a man-made god…

Margie is still running, trying desperately to get away from the people she called mom and dad…

Margie never had a protector in that house… It was never a home… It was a house of pain, bullying, control and hate… It was a house built on a false foundation that stands to this day…

Margie is struggling to break free of the confines of her imprisonment… It is a slow process, it is a painful process… To come to the realization you were so hated for being born and who and what evolution gave you, drives many to end the life that is so precious… Margie was pushed there but was stronger than the ones who hate and still hate…

Yes, Margie is struggling to be heard… I am not always so ready to listen… The pain of the body is a constant reminder of the gifts given by my parents… 63 years later, it will not let me forget… The pain of the mind is taken one day at a time… It is called acceptance…

Acceptance that I was hated from birth… Acceptance that my first love was only in my mind… Acceptance that my siblings turned out just like my parents…

It’s a hard road to walk upon… It has its ups and downs and pitfalls… It is a lonely road… and I hear a soft little voice and a hand upon my heart… Margie is here, she is waiting and hoping, she knows we will get to the end of that road of acceptance…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember…

 

 

Margie with TBI, PTSD…and Maggi not knowing…

The first clue was Margie’s missing childhood and mother refusing to answer the question in 2010 when I told her I was missing memory and her reply, “some things are best not remembered”….

When I realized I did not even remember my younger brothers, christmas’, birthdays and school, I did not believe it… I thought dementia starting at an early age, I was 56… I was wrong….

I had initiated an appeal through the El Paso VA in 2011 and underwent a very extensive psyche exam… When I received a copy of the appeal with the results I was shocked… PTSD… How could I have this???

No physical assaults that Maggi knew of, no training accidents, never saw combat, never was in an auto accident, so how… The psychologist wrote “PTSD related to illness”, but that could not be, the diagnosis of Fibromyalgia was an incorrect diagnosis in 98…

So began the journey to find answers as to why the psychiatrist thought I had PTSD and how the Air Force got it all wrong… I say this only because I took the same psyche exam when the Air Force was pushing me out in 1983, to cover up the rape and attempted murder of my child by the 1st Sargeant’s son at Vance Air Force Base…Those results by the Air Force were not even close to being correct… Cover up at it’s best…

How do I go about figuring out what was missing in my long-term memory, what caused me to lose most of the first 18 years of life and how… 2011 is when Margie started to make her self heard, though I was deaf to her attempts…

It would take another 6 years to get my answers… It would take a young man named Devin to provide those answers and the lives of 26 innocents…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember…