Personal Journal

Paris, PTSD, People

Because I have PTSD, I should (and do) know better than to get too much TV saturation (or media of any sort, actually) about news and details from Paris and other fire-combat situations.

The simplest living in the universe is when life is reduced to die or survive. I apparently like that simplicity, or better said, my spirit does. The rest of life for me is filled with cacophony, but fighting for your life is, once the moment of panic disperses and thought arrives, clearer than what I perceive life outside of it. I'm writing with a messed up sense of spiritual perspective, but I'm just going to write.

I have been having fantasies (imagination-driven) of 'what might I do in that situation' and that's not healthy for me. PTSD for me is about disarmament, like St. Francis of Assisi (I may not have spelled that correctly). I'm not suppose to weaponize my life anymore. And that's why I'm not supposed to watch the news.

I wish I were young enough to go fight again. I honestly wish I could.
And that also is another unhealthy thought, and I guess this whole entry is about struggling with PTSD pretty hard in the last 24 hours.

I shouldn't have watched the news (headlines suffice).

And my frustration at this friendship subject has me feeling very alone and incomprehensible to the universe outside of my brain. Rifles love you like cigarettes love you. And maybe that's a male thing, I don't know. Guns make everyone equal. Guns are the antithesis of powerlessness. And I think that's the best way to hold them in proper perspective.

I have a lot of them downstairs. I never touch them, and they're all overdue for cleaning.

I want to fight right now, until I die, because nothing else makes sense.
I'm at the point where I need to stop writing and stop thinking about it all.

It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn