Tuesday Trauma Triggers

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04/16/2014 by syrbal-labrys


(Sorry for late posting — auto-post didn’t work as planned)I didn’t sleep last night, I lay awake listening to the very soft, almost non-existent patter of a light misting rainfall. 1keep calm It has been cloudy since Monday night (no eclipse for us, thanks), but very dry of late.  My gardens are beginning to look in need of water and force the will and energy to drag hoses around is not with me.

The big kitchen rebuild is over with, we are still cleaning and prepping for the summer of moving me back into my own house with my still-struggling-wth-PTSD mate.  My nerves are frayed with the process.  The last three years cast everything in my life into doubt, you see — was I the horrible Disney villain parent my daughter painted me to be?  Was it my fault my 14 year old grandfather-adoring son ran away in the wake of notification of my father’s suicide?  Was it my fault (surely partially) that my untreated husband and I made war on each other and disturbed the lives of our children because I (as I was told SO very often) didn’t “have the balls to leave his ass.”  Oh, self-doubt, the gift that never stops pounding sand up your ass!

So, why is this not over at EP where the personal shit is supposed to stay? Well, because reading the news makes me think that if I am even slightly nuts, I am still functioning at a much higher level than a lot of other folks.  White Christ on a cracker — the stories!

First (and almost not posted because the despair, it is heavy) a local soldier killed himself this weekend.  Suicides among soldiers and veterans are becoming almost too normal and everyday.  It scares me to death, being in a family with four veterans, and from a family with two suicides on my paternal line.

Like right up the road in North Bend – a place made famous by “Twin Peaks” truth is damned near stranger than even that fiction…a couple takes in a disabled child upon her mother’s death.  Good, right?  They get over $4000 a month to care for this little orphan, better, right?  Not so fucking much.  They quit work and lived large while keeping the girl locked up while her teeth rotted and at age 19 she weighed 67 lbs when rescued.  Now that is some NOT walking away from fucking Omelas shit, there.  And the foster parents are not in jail — they moved to FLORIDA.

And again, kind of down the road, where I used to ride the bee trucks early of a morning, where walking trails were full of people, bikes, pets, a little two year old boy is dead, hit by a truck driven by a 78 year old. The part that chapped my ass about the television news story was the Christian exceptionalism — film and show a woman (not the mother, I’m sure) proclaiming that “as a community of believers, we know little ____ is in his Maker’s arms.”  Really?  An old fart who likely hasn’t had a real driving test in 60 years jumps the curb at a high rate of speed and kills a kid before his father’s horrified eyes and the best they can do is sell pie in the sky again?  Fuck me to tears.  If that was my dead kid and someone said that within my reach?  There would be blood, let me tell you.  The old man is NOT talking to cops; first thing he did was lawyer up.

1homeIt just feels like even in the small, up-close and personal things, government is losing the ability to maintain.  The wheels move either so slowly or not at all to either prevent or punish wrong-doing.  The government seems peculiarly unconcerned as citizens sink into increasing levels of poverty and desperation; kissing corporate ass instead and handing over tax money while doing it.  Should citizens not be screaming about oligarchs?  No, instead, it seems entirely too many folks jump on a bandwagon, for instance, to hail as some sort of fucking hero, a guy making money off taxpayer backs.  He grazes his cattle on federal lands that are maintained at taxpayer expense, and he is being CELEBRATED for telling ALL OF US to fuck the fuck OFF rather than pay the paltry grazing fee?

It is like a massive unseen insanity grips the nation. 1multipolar Well, that, or too many of us have gotten so stupid as to be incapable of recognizing peril.  Even at my semi-depressed, sitting-on-a-trigger state?  I function better than that; what troubles me presently is that it doesn’t seem to fucking matter any more.  I begin to think the inmates ARE running the asylum and that my “sin”, if such it be, is being too sane, too reasonable, too careful, too patient.  Gee, why bother holding the ‘line’ when the pay off is nothing?  Specially when shit like this counts as “governing” and sanity.

 

 

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Herland

The name of this blog, and my Dreamwidth blog, Herlander Refugee, is taken from a 1915 feminist novel "Herland". It makes my heart sing that modern women are experimenting with creation of a new "Herland"!

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