Loss of work, Loss of a relationship, and child hood abusive environment is the three areas that all have played a part in my Post traumatic Stress Disorder.
I have also been diagnosed as bi-polar and have often wondered if disease was connected to my childhood up bringing. To start this story first off I will start by saying, I grew up what they called in my generations a "latch key kid". I have lived with 2 step fathers, the first one was verbally and physically abusive, while the other one came in the picture just before I turned into a teenager and we butted heads the rest of my teenage and young adult years.
Preamble
I remember the house. Grey and white in color, it was a stucco siding. There was a sandbox in the backyard still in my view. I was on the side of the house. By myself, I was doing what most kids do. Being bored, wondering what I should do with my day. I was amazed in the moment with the tiny little bits of rock and glass, plastered to the side of the house. Making a complete house with little bits of rock and glass must take a lot of rocks and glass I thought as I started to kick the side of the house lightly with my foot but strong enough to knock some rocks and glass bits off the wall. I did this two or three times. Now I was having fun. Yay! Entertainment.
Then like a bull in a China shop comes raging out of the back door to what was also our fairly new house, my new step dad. I cannot recall if my brother was born yet. This puts me at the ages of 5-7 years old. Brian my brothers dad, glasses, cowboy boots round head and square , broad shoulders. Well over 6 feet tall, and at that age to me he was practically a giant. He comes around the corner of the house, red face is gleaming, and as he snarled with barely enough time to make out what he’s saying to me, “I told you to….”as I took flight grew wings and was airborne. I had gotten a swift kick from Brian and my body flew over my sandbox landing on the opposite side. I know now that in that moment of flight I had lost a state of conscience not completely out don’t think, but Brian near knocked me out with this email cowboy boots. His cowboy shirt was identical to one I had. We both may have even been wearing them that day. image My grandmother was very crafty and the cowboy button up t-shirts were sewn by my grandmother. He was definitely wearing that shirt. Smelled of cigarette smoke. To this day this is my most specific detailed and earliest recalled event in my life. Definitely a pillar in the life that I have lived. In fear anxiety and depression. I now suffer also with bi-polar and Post traumatic stress disorder.
And this is the introduction to my life story.
Imagine a free bird flying, flapping ever so effortlessly, moving swiftly in the dim lit sky, as the day nears to night. Have you ever wished you felt as a bird?
Now imagine a bird flying looking for some land or vegetation to land on yet it finds nothing. Continuously flying on the bird gets tired. Still no where to land and complete darkness surrounds the bird making the visibility impossible. What was considered a privilege, the ability to fly free as a bird, doesn't sound so free now does it.
Another example to a picture I am trying to create, is floating in space. If one was free floating in space with nothing around you to help you get back to safety, it would be similar to being held in a jail cell. Yet in space the illusion that you have enormous amounts of space, with no way to move around would be crippling, create anxiety and fear and surely you would die. Whats my point of these two examples that I call "stuck".
Welcome to Part I - The Wedding
My mother and father separated when I was only 1 years old. Then it wasn't until I was between the ages of five and six my mother remarried and had my brother. As I mentioned in my introduction to this story that which I will call the "sandbox incident" I cannot recall if that happened before or after my brother was born. I am pretty sure however that it was after my mother and Brian had got married. In their wedding I was the ring barrier, and as far as I can remember, that is my earliest childhood memory. No memories come to mind from that day that bring about any negative thoughts or feelings. The "sandbox incident" was my next earliest memory, and from that day forward, all I can recall is fighting, and arguing, negativity bad emotions, thoughts and feelings all started at a very early age for me and was constant. My brother was born when I was between the ages of 6 and 7, which is probably why they got married in the first place, knowing how my grandparents would have been pressuring them to have a wedding before my brother was born. Even the day of my brother being born is negative, Yes, I was excited as hell to have a little brother. I even remember having a bet with Brian on if I was going to have a bab)y brother or sister. He wanted a girl, and I found out later in life just why he wanted a girl. Lucky for my brother and the rest of us he was born a boy. The "Sandbox incident" was not the reason for my P.T.S.D. At least not alone by itself. I have had a life with some very tragic events, clinging to hope, I still had more, much more obstacles to face through out my child hood years.
coming soon! :)Part II-The Divorce- and the Stalking Begins-
Part II- Divorce-The stalking Begins
We lived with Brian until I was about ten, maybe a little earlier. During that time with Brian, I have no positive memories. One of his ways to play with me was to tease me, grab me while saying " come here, I'g gonna give you a licking" then he'd take his tongue and lick my entire face. It was gross and he smelled like an ashtray. I hated it and he thought it was hilarious. It didn't help that he had an aggressive personality and temper. Once I remember in that same house as the "sandbox incident" I seen Brian pick up another man at least a foot shorter than he was, right up by the neck and hold him against the wall. Two seconds ago the adults in the dinning room were just hooting and hollering, then all of a sudden screaming and fighting breaks out. I remember him and my mother fighting. Most of which I could only hear, because I would usually be hiding in my room. At that stage I cant remember what my brother did or didn't see or hear. After the divorce I know we shared a bedroom.
We would move about every 6 months. There were private investigators following us around hired by Brian, plus Brian didn't work, he was an A.I.S.H patient and had a brain injury from a hang gliding accident prior to the wedding. So he was always following us around and trying to find out where we were living. Which seemed pretty easy for him. He always was calling and my mother, fighting and arguing over the phone. Through the phone calls alone you could hear the anger and terror in my mothers voice, the tension and fear drove through out me I could feel it. When we had someone try and break in we moved, and not there a couple months same thing, we moved.
All this moving around and I keep going to the same school. Which now that I think about it that's probably how Brian was finding where we lived. Just follow the school bus. I was going to a private school that my grandparents were paying for. From grades one to four I was going to a "Seventh Day Adventist's " school. There were 12 grades and less than 50 kids all together. I didn't mind the school but grade 5 was the year I started my first year of public school. We had moved again and I was going to go to the school beside our new house. My brother was attending the playschool on the other side of our house. It seemed perfect. Their was also a b.m.x. track right close i could go to I loved that place. We weren't there for long and Brian seemed to have found the place. Well he found my school anyways because there was a few times I seen him waiting outside the school in his car as I was about to leave the school to go home. Knowing he wasn't supposed to be there and know where we lived I had to wait, and go let a teacher know that they had to call my mom to tell her to call the police. By this time I was almost if not 11. The whole neighborhood was in a watch because that was the same time little girls started going missing in my city, and there was a big scare. They would get picked up usually a block or two from a school park, and short of a week later get dropped of a block or two from where they were picked up at. It was scary, the missing kids started to happen all over central Alberta, and I found out later that Brian and his brother were main characters of interest in that case. However I never did find out the results of that, and once we knew Brian knew where we were again we moved again. I changed schools, only this time we didn't move by our selves. my mother had a new boyfriend and he moved with us, and the new school I went to half way through my first public school year he had nephews going to as well, and they lived right around the corner. So it had some benefits. That's also when I found out my sister was going to be born. Wasn't long and you guessed it Brian found us again. We moved, but this time we moved out of the city to another town county to an acreage. My mom, brother, sister and Mom's new boyfriend all lived out there for about seven years, where I came back for my grade eleven and twelve years. But Now I'm skipping ahead.
Part III Getting a LICENSE to KILL
The New High School was pretty good. I met someone in my first two classes who is still a friend today over 20 years later. He was having issues at his home with his step father as well. A lot like my environment verbal knock downs and non-stop arguments. It was quite early on in our friendship he shared with me something I never thought I 'd have to deal with someday. I was quite little when my aunt committed suicide my carbon monoxide poisoning. Travis told me had a .22 to his head and almost pulled the trigger. I remember that morning hi not coming to class instead going straight to the student councilor, who the next year was my psychology teacher. He really was a good teacher. I was still seeing the same girlfriend from the old small town high school I went to in grade 10. Since being in hiding in that town from my first step dad, for 5-6 years, it was good to be back in the city I was born. I had some anxiety and fears of running into him, but not near as much as I did if I went back to live where I was. Back then I didn't realize how bad my low self esteem and self image was. Every where I went I walked with a slouch and looked at the ground instead of up ahead. Until that next summer when I did something that would change my life forever. I joined the Canadian Military Reserves. That end of grade 11 summer I spent the 2 months taking my basic training, 3 provinces over. Not only that ha! I PASSED! Probably the biggest accomplishment of my life. I never should have left it the following summer. I was a different person when I got back from basic training. In a good way. The military for me helped boost my self image and self esteem. I walked taller, with my head up! Smiled more often, picked up some bad habits though. Started smoking and learned how to party. Given a license to kill meant in the military you were a man. and treated with respect, loyalty and honesty. Not like what I was used to at all. It wasn't long after I left my girlfriend from the small town. I was a different person and I didn't connect with her like I used to. Started dating a girl I'd be with most my young adult life. We were together for 13 years on and off, quite the story. I still have nigh mares to this day! Nothing like the nightmare I lived during our break before her son was born. Boy did I spiral out of control into a wrong place at the wrong time. Metropolitan Murders, is a chapter that will haunt any parent.
METROPOLITAN MURDERS Part 4
There was a stale stench lofting about the room. Quiet traffic noises outside, a red glow was shining through the balcony windows. I looked around the room. Heart started to pick up pace, while at the same time, pupils dilate, letting more light in. I can see some one has obviously been here. I was visiting a friend of mine who lived with her son who at the time as between the ages of four and five. I had been at her house now for a day or two. Not remembering exactly what initiated the visit in the first place, this was the first time I had been to this place. I actually hadn't seen Brenda it what was at least a year or two. Brenda when I showed up had some speed on her. I hadn't had any of that stuff for years, and when she asked me I panicked and hesitated for what seemed like a minute, but I'm sure it was only two or threes seconds. "Sure" I replied, "but not that much. I haven't touched that stuff in a long time." I said with a sigh. She got us out each a line, handed me the straw, and up the nose it went. It tickled but didn't really burn like sometimes I remember it doing. "Must be good, taste clean" I mumbled while she took hers. I could already feel the effects. " Ya the guy I'm seeing is selling it so I get a good deal." The next twenty minutes or so we chit chat. The speed crept in like a cat stalking its prey. While the conversation takes on a different vibe because now we are both high and can't shut up from the speed.
Brenda gets a text on her phone, and what seems like in a panic she asks me if I would watch her son while her and her boyfriend run a five or six hour trip to go get some more drugs. They would go and be back with no stopping in between. They would leave me a little speed, as payment to watch her kid and they would be there and back no monkey business. It was still early afternoon and for the next four hours or so we continued to chit chat and put speed up our noses while she got ready to leave for her big trip with the boyfriend Max. She gave me instructions for Braedon, told Braedon to listen to me, and that I was in charge, she left out the apartment door, saying "okay text me if there's an issues" and with that she walked out the door. I watched as she jumped in a truck outside waiting and closed the curtains, turned around and looked at Braedon. Changing the channel on the television to a kids station. I was not nervous about watching Braedon at all. I was the oldest in my family, and I had years experience watching littler kids. Braedon was pretty cool too. He loved playing with his little cars and we played with them in his room while the television played in the background. The apartment was quiet and calm in comparison to what it was like earlier. All the people coming and going. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't. It was obvious that everyone coming was buying speed. It also seemed like all these people were people that knew Brenda's boyfriend first. I didn't recognize anyone. I hadn't met Max yet, but I was suspicious that these were mostly his friends popping by. He definitely had a significant influence on her and what goes on in her apartment. Everyone stopping by all had short visits and it was obvious that they were drug trafficking visits. I kept to my own business and didn't say anything or ask any questions.
Every hour or so they would call me into the room to take a line of speed. Each time I went in the room the closet door was closed so I never seen it before. Hell no, if I had I would have some excuse and got the hell out of there. When I was putting Braedon to bed I needed his cup and blanket. He told me they were in his moms room, so I opened the door went in to grab the cup and blanket. Right there they were both on the bed. The closet door was open too, and that hadn't been open before all the other times I was in Brenda's bedroom. They must have left it open, and I tried not to look inside, but it was hard not to when staring me right in the face was a sawed of shotgun, clear as day. The panic set in immediately I left the room and my mind relayed the days events, the people coming and going, their faces, body language, everything. I thought I was going to puke. Without a seconds hesitation, my mind was in combat mode, just like when I was a kid. I started searching for anything I could find to barricade and lock the balcony and main door to the apartment. I was trying to barricade this for year old and myself from the rest of the world. Immediately I felt guilt as to taking the drugs, and knew this kid was in danger and I was quite possibly the only thing that could save him from a life full of pain and suffering. I knew I had to sober up and get clear headed. The little bit of speed they gave me had lasted until now and there was a few lines left maybe in the plastic bag it was kept in. I had no idea if there was more drugs in the apartment or not. While I found something to wedge in the balcony door and screw to the trim of the door frame on the main door, I messaged my mother and told her what was going on. My only line of communication at that time was face book. I had internet access, but my phones service was not working and there was no land phone in the apartment. The only two people I could talk to about what was going on was my mother and a cousin, who were online at the time. It was decided the best thing to do was to wait out the night, and my mother would pick me and the boy up i the morning, and we would call child protective services, and I would file a report. Feeling a bit better after talking to my mother and cousin and smoking a 'pinner . The red glow glow coming from that traffic light outside, and the quiet traffic noise both filled the room as my eyes were adjusting I had falling asleep, and as my eyes focused I could see clearly that someone had been here. The barricade I had at the main door was ripped of and moved and the trim from the door frame was laying on the ground, and two sets of shoes laid on the floor beside the door. Had they really broken in? They were back? Did I really sleep that long, and threw all that noise? Great, now what a going to do. I was just planning on taking Brenda's kid and calling child protective services because I saw the shotgun they accidentally left visible in the bedroom. Of course that wasn't the only reason to call them but, that is what triggered me into a flight or fight P.T.S.D. relapse. I had no idea I was already suffering from P.T.S.D. I was a survivor and now I thought to myself I have failed this little boy. Now I have to get out of here with out them knowing why I barricaded the doors. If I leave now they are liable to wake up and I wont be able to catch a bus its to early, and still dark outside. I'd be on foot, it would make more sense to wait a couple hours until the buses were running and then leave. Trying to create little or no suspicious behavior to alarm her or her boyfriend that I intended on having the child taken away some how even though they were back before I could get him out the door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and cigarettes smoke filled the air. Brenda was up and moving around in the kitchen. She seen me awake and immediately starting complaining about the door being barricaded. "whats with locking us out" she asked, "sorry" I replied. "I didn't think you guys would be back by now. I would have had it off. I was telling the truth but I was also not telling her that I was going to be taking her kid to the child protective services, had she not shown up. Now I was going to have to get out with out raising suspicion and phone C.P.S. without taking him, but I was still going to call and make that report. As shes talking I'm thinking of anything I can as an excuse as to why I need to rush out the door. "Max left" she said, "he was grumbling about that door when he left".
At the end of her Sentence I put my coffee to my lips ad finished what was in side. "Well, I gotta run, bus is leaving in two minutes." Racing to put my shoes on, grab the bag i had with me and leave before she could object or say anything. She stopped doing whatever it was she was messing with in the kitchen faced towards the door where I was trying to exit and asked "you're gonna fix that door right?" She caught me off guard with that question. I had assumed her boyfriend could fix it, it was only a couple screws. "Okay, I have to run right now, but yeah, I'll come back and fix it." Really did not want to have to come back there, and didn't want her to know I didn't feel comfortable there or that she should even have custody of Braedon. I just wanted to get out of there. That vision of the sawed off shotgun sitting in the corner of the closet kept coming back to my mind. Reading Brenda's body language, I could tell she was satisfied with my answer and wit that I walked out the door. Catching the bus just in time, now I could catch my breath, and my thoughts at the same time. Figure out what my next move was now that my original plan was spoiled. i contacted my mom, and told her what had changed. While I was texting my mother Brenda text me asking when I was going to come back and fix the door. I knew that the best thing for me to be would be to stop when the bus went back by the apartment, get off and fix the door as fast as possible so I never have to go back there ever again, and keep Brenda from having to text me. So that's exactly what I did. I got off at the bus stop directly across from where I got on the bus. I had caught the bus on the outbound trip instead of waiting for it to go back downtown so this was me going back downtown. Crossing the busy Gross Street I entered the apartment building. I remember the day. It was a winter day, but the sun was shining and beating down like it was a spring or summer day. My heart was pounding and I could barely swallow. I knocked on the apartment door that was to Brenda's suite. "Come on in," I heard as I slowly turned the door handle I could feel sweat starting to form through my clothing. I was sick to the stomach. Max was sitting on the couch. I hadn't met Max yet, and from what I saw he was not at all what I was expecting. Max was at least four years younger than me and Brenda. Clean cut, well dressed, polite. It took me about fifteen too twenty minutes to fix the door. Max and I exchanged some small chit chat while I worked away. He was generally polite and quite the opposite as to what I was expecting. Brenda was cleaning the house and sneaking away every few minutes to the bedroom to do what i was guessing more drugs. I honestly in that moment felt comfortable talking to Max, and could see myself if I didn't know the lifestyle he was living actually getting to know this guy. Then of course I didn't know what was about to going to happen in the next few minutes. I finished the door, said my good byes, and started to walk downtown instead of waiting for the bus. Figured I might as well keep moving instead of standing across the street waiting. Trying to gather my racing thoughts once again, I texted my best friend and asked him if it was okay if I stopped by. Looking up I could see, and now hear the bus coming down the street, and I jogged to the next closes bus stop. Already over half of the way back to the bus terminal. I no sooner sat in the seat, heard the squeak of the bus breaks, the door closing and "bzzzzz,bzzzzzz" my phone was on vibrate. "Brad, I don't know what to do, he says hes coming back here to kill me, and I believe him."
"bzzzz, bzzz" "where are you can you help?" "bzzzz bzzz bzzzz, "I'm scared Brad, can you please come back, I think Max is going to kill me." The first two texts come one after another before I even had time to reach for my phone and read them, and as I was trying to read the first message the third message was buzzing through. I thought Brenda was over reacting, I mean come on really, I was just there not even fifteen minutes ago fixing the door. Where could he have possibly gone, and what could have possibly happened in fifteen minutes to change things so drastically?
"Calm down Brenda, I cant come back, and I'm to far away now anyways." I texted back.
"okay, well Bruce's coming here in his car, I should be okay when he gets here." Bruce was Brenda's ex boyfriend. I used to sell weed to him back when that was where i made my bread and butter.
I got off the bus and changed to the bus that was going to my buddies house. I was on the bus a couple minutes then I saw three police cars go zipping by, with their lights on, no sirens. Cop cars with lights on was not an untypical sight in downtown. We were right beside the police station so I didn't think anything of it at the time. A couple minutes later the buses all started to pull away from the transit. The bus was packed not completely but packed enough it was hard to find a seat if you were one of the ones last to get on the bus. "Someone got shot on Gross Street" I heard someone half yell over the crowded noise on the bus. Then I heard someone else say someone was shot in the apartment building and then stumbled out into traffic and collapsed. "Wait what" I said to no one specific, as if someone was going to answer me. Took about two seconds and some one did answer me. It was the bus driver. " Quiet Down Please!" I heard him yell. Okay so he wasn't answering my question but when he did this for the first time I can ever remember the people actually listened to him. For half a minute. The silence was broken by two ambulances going screaming back behind us down the Gross Street one way, right beside the cop shop. I bet I looked like a gecko. Eyes bulging out long neck, mouth shut just taking in the scene, I felt my breath stop, and the anxiety and panic setting in.I couldn't breathe. I knew instantly. Someone I heard on the bus shout, "it was a sawed off shotgun" the ten minute ride to my buddies house felt like an hour. Mind mind was going over the days events. I can't believe this just happened. Is Brenda dead? Did she get shot? what the hell happened, I was just there fifteen minute ago. My fingerprints are all over that place.
Knocking on my buddies door, he opened it before I could finish my knock. "Its already on the news" he was getting anxious about the whole event I could tell. His girlfriend was not impressed that I was there. They were in the middle of visiting with one of my buddies cousin and talking about wedding plans. I heard the news "two possibly three people had been shot in the apartment building next to the gas station on Gross Street." "the suspect fled out the back door of the apartment and police are looking for him, and one other male wanted for questioning." The cameras showed the building and ambulance, a cab and traffic all stopped. The suspect that collapsed into the street was male. according to the what was being printed on the bottom of the screen on the report. So she was at least half right. Max did shoot someone. Possibly three people. As soon as I could get out of town to where my parents lived I did. Guilt played into my mind as I knew that Braedon had witnessed the whole thing. That was exactly the same sort of scenario I was trying to avoid him from seeing or going through. Now it was to late, already. That was when I realized the damage that had been done. Not only to Braedon, but how my child hood had effected me in my adult life, including the decisions I was making that clearly were not the best decisions. A few years after I bumped into Brenda and Braedon at the parade one year. She was on supervised visits, and Braedon was huge. He didn't recognize me at all, and I could tell by his body language and eyes that he was feeling pain, glad to see his mom, but definitely still hurt from the whole or deal, and who wouldn't be. Those eyes looked like they belonged on an 86 year old war vet. I knew then that P.T.S.D. was in way more peoples lives then the medical professionals would have you believe. It was not just a disease that was a condition to exposure of war. It happens to all of us.
Human Rights Conclusion Part 5
Those were the party years before those murders took place. I had first started smoking weed then quit the reserves. I was paranoid that I would go to prison through military law, and I was making time and availability to have a full-time job right out of high school. Not even 2 months later and I had my first place. Finally Freedom!!! It wasn't long before I figured out I could smoke weed for free and make money selling it. So I sold weed for 5 years making $100 cash everyday and kept part-time gas attendant time jobs, usually graveyard shifts, so not to raise the eyebrows of those who didn't approve. Selling only to people I knew, friends family I kept it real low key and didn't make a ton of money just enough. We tried to have kids for years. That's why it hurt so much when we were on a break and she got pregnant with another guy. Up until that point we thought it was her that couldn't get pregnant because of a medical procedure she had early on in our relationship. We had lived together since she was 16 and I was 18 The way that I found out is what probably set me back so much. I was still spiraling out of control doing drugs and partying, acting foolishly. I had spent over a year being really pissed at her for leaving me. Until I found out that the father of her unborn baby, tried to kill them both by jumping on her stomach and choking her in her sleep. That is how I found out she was pregnant. He wanted her to abort the baby and she didn't want to because her and I had tried so hard to have one and she knew that it might be her only chance to have a child. We got back together the day Ayden was born, and I raised him like he was mine. I still get him her on weekends every 2-3 weeks or so. 6 months after Ayden was born, Alisha was pregnant again. We were going to have a baby finally. At least that is what we thought. On week 21 Alisha had complications and went to the hospital. The looked at her told her she was fine and sent her home. As she was leaving the hospital she felt like she had to use the washroom, she sat on the toilet and gave birth to our baby. Screaming, and noticing movement in her arms a nurse came in and grabbed the baby through it in a bag and left the bathroom leaving Alisha there with no explanation or consultation. This set her on a depression and drinking path that set a wedge in between us and lead to our final break up. A super blow. I lost both her and Ayden at the same time. My life spun out of control once again, going deeper than the partying had ever gotten before. I was only floating through life wishing I was dead.
Trying to pick up the pieces eventually I went back to rehab. This being my 3rd or 4th time since after the "Metropolitan Murders" incident, which was the first time I talked to a therapist. This was the 3rd time we had officially separated in 13 years. "Any more partying like this" the doctor said," and Id be lucky to be alive". Little did he know that was half the point. After about 6 months of me partying and acting stupid, using the doctor's advice I put myself back into a rehab program. It was then that I decided that I wanted to change trades. When Ayden was born I had started roofing, and my body 5 years or so after that was telling me that I was not going to be able to do this until I was 60-65. I was always interested in electricity and how it worked. So I looked into the electrical field and became a first year apprentice. Just over 3o years old, I thought I could have my journeyman before I was 40 and be set to make enough to set aside for retirement in 20-25 years. That was my plan. I found one and liked the company and people. Soon though to find out that nor for long and not for the first time in my life was I about to learn to valuable life lessons.
First was being bi-polar really had an effect on my life as well as the P.T.S.D., and second workplace discrimination and violating someones basic rights can be just as devastating maybe more, I am still living out the consequences and results of the workplace discrimination. I've lost two jobs because I was hospitalized for suicidal thoughts of harm and. The apprenticeship I had no choice but to do something and stand up for my rights. I could not afford a lawyer but I was able to go through the Human Rights Commissioner. 5 years later I won the case, however I was only given very little damages. less than $3000.00. Quite and insult if you ask me. I just lost 5 years of my life, a trade, all my self confidence and dignity, my ability to earn and keep a living. Losing my job was one of if not the most hurtful blow to my self esteem and will to live. As a result to what happened at work and with the proceedings, in the Human Rights Commissioner, I am here approximately 3 years later still struggling to make ends meet and figure out what to do for a living. I went back to roofing and met a new person in my life who has two 8 year old twins that are great. fighting my p.t.s.d. and bi polar on a daily basis the roller coaster cycle is speeding up and hospitalization is now one of those things that does not seem to help or fix the situation. Lots of flashback, dreams, and emotional melt downs. Still fighting to find substance in this world lacking substance and direction.
To be continued....
Nice post. Thank you for sharing. Resteemed and upvoted.
You've written quite a story. Many people have a difficult upbringing and it can be very hard to recover; in fact it is a lifelong pursuit for people who have experienced abuse and trauma. But never give up. You have only this one life. I challenge you to decide how you can make it great. Believe in yourself, but remember to think outside your personal challenges. Find community. And make sure you get the right medication for your condition. Have you thought of turning your stories into fiction writing? It might be a nice way to channel your PTSD.
yes I am considering it actually, I ve been getting similar feedback
I see on your profile your an editor and writer, moments after catching my typos lol
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