I intended my next post to be about mother’s day. I have most of the pieces. My plan was to art on Sunday evening, to process. The time with her drained me dry, though. I wanted to think about anything else. Maybe I’ll resume the collage today.
In the mean time, here’s another amuse-bouche sort of deal. The loose theme is squeezing joy out of terror and hoplessness. This first memo is a post mother’s day reflection on how c-ptsd falls through the cracks, and how talking about specific societal failings like this feels more and more redundant.
This one is a voice memo I sent to Laura while I was still in Chicago. I was reaching for an analogy to explain how someone with so much privilege could feel so frequently suicidal.
A few bits from yesterday’s trip to Tuscon and Sierra Vista —
Finally, some things that have made me laugh recently. One silver lining to my emotional sensitivity is that I feel joy and love and laughter also to a paralyzing extreme. My theory from a trauma lense, is this: empathy is re-creating and re-experiencing another person’s emotions, at least as you percieve them. You are still using your own hardware, just playing their tape. So, if it is life-threateningly important that you interpret that emotion correctly, you will turn the speakers alllllll the way the fuck up. You need to hear the subtle tighting tempo of their heartbeat, or words marked with the squeeze of a tensed jaw. The metallic whisper of a metaphorical pulled grenade pin.
Unfortunently, that means the tamest raised voice will make my ears bleed. A door closing hits my chest like a gunshot. A bored tone reverbarates the feeling that I’m slime on the underside of thier shoe. It does mean that little nuances in a positive way have a similar effect – WHEN. my mind is not so terrified it filters out anything benign, only leaving potential threats. Which is….almost always. Feeling safe, then, is probably my most important mission for now. Cultivating selfworth isn’t really going to matter to a mind thats fighting for it’s life. That’s probably why all my driving adventures have done more for my mental health then any direct attempt to rip my toxic coping methods out of my arms while using my friends’ well meaning criticism as a bloudgen.
>>robyns_ramblings 