Ptsd poetry anyone?

[Deleted member 42984]

My friend D said that the central teaching of Buddhism is “preparing to die”

I think it's a central tenet to life, to accept your own mortality.
It's a life in much less fear. And acceptance and gratitude.
It's hard for PTSD peeps, I know, with the chronic survival mode and all.
But essentially? I control nothing. And in that, I gain control, paradoxically.

 

[TruthSeeker]

My friend D said that the central teaching of Buddhism is “preparing to die”. That every day you are supposed to meditate on this. Not to grieve—maybe? But also to not take any breath for granted. To not add to the great amount of suffering already so present and pervasive, if you can help it.

I have contemplated death, for some time, now, but not in the way that I will take my own life. I have lived with a disability where death is a possibility on any given day. Coming to the conclusion, that life is precious and one should live it to the fullest, love to the fullest possible (and for some people whom I love dearly, it can be a struggle), and be grateful for every day we are given, has given me a sense of direction for the rest of my existence, peace, and gratitude for the good times and people who have been there for me.

 

[Ocean147]

Stop Being in My Dreams

He who shall not be named, if I hear his name, I freeze.

Why does he insist on chasing me? I want to be left alone.

After all, I tell my brain, he's not around but it can't tell the difference.

I ignore him, he blocks my path and laughs.

Still he follows not caring if I'm smiling or frowning.

He always enjoyed the unfair chase.

I turn to him and shout with every fiber in my being, "Stop being in my dreams!"

 

[Ocean147]

Trapped Once Again

My valuable voice is silenced by,
a snarky remark or comment.

My faith in my abilities happens to fall flat,
like a tire running over hidden spikes.

My prized education is criticized
In one single, piercing glance.

Moving out it seems is my only chance,
to get away from Mother Gothel.

I refuse to be Rapunzel.

 

[arfie]

@Ocean147 dunno. . . as i recall the fairy tale, rapunzel managed to escape mother gothel and go on to become a genuinely remarkable woman. i find myself wondering if you should use rapunzel as a role model, albeit a fictional one.

on a more pragmatic note, learning ways to stay true to myself in the face of critics was/is an important part of my recovery. there is no shortage of critics and/or manipulators in the world and the habit of granting one person the power to cow me runs on an automated transference system. if i grant mother gothel has the power to bring me to my knees, that power is available to other critics/manipulators, as well.

 

[DogTired]

Silent Night.
It was the calm of the night that awoke me
On the river that flowed slowly by
No wind in the trees to rustle the leaves
No bird calls that cut through the night

Sat quiet on the bank of that river
No towns near to light up the sky
Starlight took on a new meaning
That and the glow of the night

When nothing but beauty surrounds you
When sound is you breathing alone
As the boat lines were gently creaking
I feel peace in the depths of my soul

(Part of my journal)

 

[TruthSeeker]

Trapped Once Again

My valuable voice is silenced by,
a snarky remark or comment.

My faith in my abilities happens to fall flat,
like a tire running over hidden spikes.

My prized education is criticized
In one single, piercing glance.

Moving out it seems is my only chance,
to get away from Mother Gothel.

I refuse to be Rapunzel.

Silent Night.
It was the calm of the night that awoke me
On the river that flowed slowly by
No wind in the trees to rustle the leaves
No bird calls that cut through the night

Sat quiet on the bank of that river
No towns near to light up the sky
Starlight took on a new meaning
That and the glow of the night

When nothing but beauty surrounds you
When sound is you breathing alone
As the boat lines were gently creaking
I feel peace in the depths of my soul

(Part of my journal)

This is beautiful!

 

[TruthSeeker]

Silent Night.
It was the calm of the night that awoke me
On the river that flowed slowly by
No wind in the trees to rustle the leaves
No bird calls that cut through the night

Sat quiet on the bank of that river
No towns near to light up the sky
Starlight took on a new meaning
That and the glow of the night

When nothing but beauty surrounds you
When sound is you breathing alone
As the boat lines were gently creaking
I feel peace in the depths of my soul

(Part of my journal)

I'm Taking It Back!

My brain is mine!
I've come to see,
No more highjacking to be had,
Cause it belongs to me!

Now MY BRAIN WAS a nightmare,
And so was my life,
Living alone and so hopeless,
In fear with great strife.

A thick fog was present,
I was lost in my mind,
This state was my normal,
And my health had declined.

So my brain had been busted,
Now I'm gettin it rewired,
Gonna fix the glitching,
Cause I'm feeling inspired.

Trauma and fear are the cause,
I'm now conquering those fears,
that have screwed up my brain,
Even if it takes many more years.
.
I'm moving forward you see,
under steady repair,
With faith and hope as my guides,
far away from isolation and despair.

As my wires make new paths,
They call it plas-ti-city,
Brain improvements I see,
In my mem-or-ry!

My IQ has really improved,
and my focus amazing,
and I have safe friends and family,
in the new world I am embracing-

Cause I decided to take my brain back!

 

[TruthSeeker1]

Dissociation: When It's My Warning

Without warning, I can feel my enemy, I feel it coming to take me away.
As I look around, the fog thickens but no one else in the room sees the fog.
Like a threatening fire, fear imbues the air and I begin to fray,
But no one else feels the threat that's invading this very room.
I am disconnecting from whatever is happening in the moment.
I blink my eyes, I check my glasses, yet things worsen.
This event is a secret I do not share, as people don't understand.
As I continue to fray, anxiety increases, and I know my brain's a glitching.
How is what I need to determine.....these symptoms don't have a singular cause.
I can see and feel less and less of me...I worry I will be gone soon,
if I can't stop the progression.
Could it be low sugar, an aura for a seizure, Vagus, or my brain just a glitchen?
I robotically walk with only tunnel vision left to me, worried I'll fall.
I down a Coke, take an anticonvulsant, and sit down right away.
Now, all I think is "What will happen next?"
So I wait silently, desperately hoping the fog will begin to clear......
And I wait.....
And I wait.......
And I wait........
And I wait........
And I wait........

The waiting seems to last forever,
I know something...will change.
When the fog begins to dissipate, I ground by concentrating on my surroundings.
And I soon realize..........
today is a good day.

 

[osiris]

Glass
and stone,
the lurching dawn,

here
we wait,

here we ache.

Ragged breath
and bruised limbs,
scarred skin
at the edge of night,
restless dreams
of fear filled
touch,
the taste of smoke,
shamed,
alone.

The world is hollowed,
my lips
burned.

 

[Dave Ryan]

As a chubby teenage boy, I was forced to spend years wearing controlling women's shapewear under my school uniform. I wrote a poem on another site about the first morning I had to dress that way, when I was just 14. The structure of the poem is a villanelle.

Such intense shame is eating him away;
a sleepless night, his face is tired and drawn.
He braces for an agonising day.

He knows that on this point he has no say;
the time to plead, to beg, has come and gone.
Such intense shame is eating him away.

With dread he reads the bedside clock display;
grey light proclaims the coming of the dawn.
He braces for an agonising day.

So now he must get dressed, no more delay;
pick up the panty girdle he must don.
Such intense shame is eating him away.

On glimpsing his reflection, turns away;
his stricken face he cannot look upon.
He braces for an agonising day.

School uniform conceals his corsetry;
he prays no one shall learn what he has on.
Such intense shame is eating him away.
He braces for an agonising day.

I also wrote a free verse poem about the time I was sexually assaulted by another boy, but I don't think I'll include it here as it leaves nothing to the imagination and I wouldn't want to trigger anyone.