At times when an episode of intense pain detours a significant portion of
My energy toward tolerating physical discomfort, 24/7
My defense system, feeling threatened, arouses my survival instinct to
Stand guard, feeling highly susceptible to anything triggering
The subconscious portion of my memory to assume that
One bad thing will lead to another (As was true when I was three, and
A massive heart attack stole my grandfather’s life, several weeks before
My baby sister succumbed to SIDS) suggesting that
Each time the subconscious portion of my brain is triggered to ‘await
The other shoe to drop’, my mindful connection to positive focus (which
Fuel’s my spirit’s connectivity to experiencing pure, unadulterated joy) is
Unknowingly severed, and as long as I have no conscious clue of
This depressive change in my attitude, my brain's ability to maintain
Control over my sensitivity to succumbing to future attacks of
PTSD remains just beyond reach until insight shines its spotlight upon
The main source of whatever has triggered my connection to logic to crash
During the weeks following my most recent flare up of sciatic pain
The escalation of scandalous news reports exposing widespread
Sexual abuse, continuing to surface throughout the country (focusing
The spotlight of shame away from victims in favor of pointing
Fingers of blame at fame-empowered names) acted as one trigger that
Aroused my current episode of PTSD to erupt
And if you ask me to name the main source that catalyzed this uproar, which
Continues to mark audacious behaviors which prove
Disgracefully disrespectful to females of all ages as well as to boys and
Young men, I'll refer my response to Trump’s campaign for election to
The highest office of the land, which having met with success
Shocked the socks off of a far-reaching explosion of painfully repressed
Emotional reactiveness, openly expressed by countless women, whose
Voices refuse to be silenced as though fearing that
A known sexual predator’s successful run for The Oval Office offers clearance to
Power-hungry males of our species to freely harass, insult and
Abuse anyone who catches their eye, at will, and thus has
Fury arisen, synthesizing the outrage of those who’d secreted away
Memories so vile as to stand up and be counted amongst those who are
No longer afraid to break through barriers of silence (born of
Blaming the victim, which is a crying shame) so that rather than
Brooding in the corner, the weaker (?) sex has bonded in
Courageous solidarity, as never before, giving voice to
Muted pain that has had sound reason to roar with as much
Ferocity as proves true of the hot blooded reaction pulsing
Hotly through my veins, which in addition to flooding my mind with
Latent anxiety—subconsciously released to reverberate throughout
My body as angrily as a wildfire rages across the land of
The free and the home of the brave—links my ferocity of
Reactivity to all that’s been exposed, concerning
The condensation of agony that’s clearly being expressed in
The volcanic eruption of these two words—ME, TOO! And so
Tis plain to see that this societal change for the better has been
Long overdue, indeed! I mean, seriously, therapists, throughout
Our vast nation, attest to the fact that their phones have been
Ringing off the wall as victims of sexual abuse clamor for appointments in
Hopes of easing an outpouring of latent anxiety so deeply repressed as to be
Welling up and spilling forth to overwhelming degrees
During the week preceding Thanksgiving, 2017, my flare up of
Sciatic pain opened the door in my invincible wall of denial, releasing
Anxiety and unnamed sadness to conjoin with physical discomfort
Catalyzing my spirit to take a sudden nose dive as would
A war plane shot down by friendly fire, and thus, rather than lifting
My spirit as had always been true of any holiday celebrated with
Beloved family and friends, this most recent Thanksgiving celebration
Saw my fun-loving attitude crash, which may lead you to ask:
So what do you think singled out Thanksgiving weekend 2017 to
Feel devastatingly different from all other Thanksgivings that came
Before (except for one Thanksgiving, many years in the distant past, which
Had truly offered my spirit sound reason to take a sudden dive when
Fear and grief had gripped my undeveloped think tank within
A vice so tight as to have choked my three year old spirit within
Its confounding grasp, literally causing my lungs to gasp for breath)?
In answer to the astute nature of that question—the unnamed source of
So fearsome grief shall be revealed as soon as this intuitive train of thought
Shines the spotlight of insight upon the matched set of similarities triggering
The emotional upheaval that I, alone ‘experienced’ throughout
Thanksgiving weekend, 2017, which felt every bit as confounding as
Had been true during the terrifying emotional upheaval that I, along with everyone
Who had made up my birth family, experienced throughout
Thanksgiving weekend, 1947, when fate barged into our peaceful lives, delivering
The Spector of sudden Death, which, twice in just over a month, shattered
Our connection to safety, darkening our spirits for more than a year until
Change for the better gave rise to hope, which turned frowns into
Tremulous smiles on January 5, 1948, the day of my youngest sister’s birth
Seventy years ago
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my parents' wedding anniversary
Seventy years ago
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my sister's death on my parents' anniversary
Seventy years ago
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my being the same age as Ravi is today
This year
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my parents' wedding anniversary
This year
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my sister's death on my parents' anniversary
This year
Thanksgiving weekend commemorated my grand daughter's third birthday
How much do you comprehend concerning the connection linking PTSD to Projection?
Without so much as a conscious clue as to this matched set of triggers invading
My brain space, the emergence of this most recent eruption of PTSD catalyzed
The unhealed portion of my brain to unseal subconscious fears in
An unnamed state, transforming my brain into a time machine, which
Shot my mental, emotional and physical sense of personal safety straight back
Into 1947 as though only a millisecond separated the mental state of
The intelligent adult, whom I've grown to be, today, from
The deeply confounded, wholly traumatized, three year old
Child, whose undeveloped think tank had no clue, whatsoever, of
What was taking place in our lives, other than the fact that after
My grandpa and baby sister had mystifyingly disappeared
All of the adults, who'd peopled my life had become ghostlike
Zombies, who'd lost their quick, good natured smiles as well as
Control over their minds, and somehow, during
Thanksgiving weekend of 2017, flashes of memory, each of which
Lasted no more than a millisecond in length, saw
My subconscious zooming back and forth across the time line, covering
A span of seventy years without so much as offering
My conscious awareness even one clue as to what had caused
Subconscious fear to become so self empowered as to turn back
The hands of time, transforming my seventy-three year old brain into
A time traveler, whose emotional reactions (no longer repressed) projected
The same confounding sense of traumatized grief and fear of death that
My processor had unconsciously soaked in, seven decades back, and just as
This overwhelming degree of fearsome negativity had invaded the well being of
A three year old's undeveloped think tank, this 74 year old woman's connection to
Personal safety shattered as if The Spector of Death—which
Threatened my survival instincts from within my head—was
Actually lurking outside my front door, waiting to strike me or
A loved one down, causing me to feel all alone with an anxious sense of
Sadness while surrounded by a jovial grouping of family and friends, all of whom
Expressed concern for the fact that I had need to be within arms reach of
A chair or the couch, because no one (inclusive of me) had a clue that
My mind was reeling between 1947 and 2017, suggesting that as long as
This unnamed reason for dizziness continued to terrorize
My adult sense of personal safety, my temporary disconnect from
Clarity, concerning today's reality, could not possibility begin to
Comprehend whatever had triggered this episodic attack of PTSD, and
As long as my brain wavered somewhere between the age of 74 and 3
No connective pathway to communicate exactly which similarity had hijacked
My processor to associate this happy Thanksgiving with another so terrifying as
To have hijacked all connection to logic, which would have spotlighted
The terrifying childhood event that had deemed my adult brain too dizzy from
Spinning back and forth in time so as to feel myself existing in
A semi conscious, light-headed state, which rendered my intelligence
Out of commission for as long as I was unable to hold up my head or
Function in a standing position, beginning on Thanksgiving day and ending on
Sunday, when, unlike years past, this trio of festive events, honoring
Thanksgiving, my parents’ anniversary and Ravi’s birthday had naturally
Entertained my sense of fun to fly high, whereas this year
The concurrence of this same set of events plunged my spirit so low as to
Stimulate my intuitive need to forfeit my ticket to the football game on Sunday
(Following Ravi's Lion King birthday party on Saturday) in favor of
Remaining at home to spin my cocoon after reassuring Will and David that
I'd be fine on my own while they enjoyed the game, and as my menfolk have come to
Understand my need to figure my way through each episode of PTSD in
A safe haven, where peace and quiet encourage an uprising of latent anxiety to
Calm down, my brain, absorbing a sense of peaceful pensiveness, aroused
My well-practiced intuition to power up in contemplation of
The weekend’s trifecta in hopes of releasing a insight-laden flash of
Deeper truth, linking my light-headed reactions to subconscious triggers so that
With specific triggers clearly in mind, this anxiety soaked, grief struck reaction
Would stop haunting my sense of safety, ASAP, and sure enough
As minutes tick tocked from one hour to the next, the first insight
Ignited, sparking a string of insights, each of which served to brighten
My brain's growing ability to calm this most recent episode of
PTSD on my own once this first fact flashed through my conscious mind, pushing
Doom and gloom aside as though to make room in my think tank for
This positively focused truth to dominate center stage:
Never again will Ravi’s third birthday fall on Thanksgiving, because
Never again will this sweet child be three, and the simplicity of that fact
Released this next string of insights, spotlighting the repressed sense of
Terrifying flashbacks that I’d had no conscious clue of 'remembering'
Throughout those three days when my deeply personal ordeal, which
On the surface didn't make sense, signaled my subconscious to ready itself to
Release, expose and clearly express a whale of repressed grief, which
Had remained secreted within an unidentified, deeply pained pocket of
My subconscious for more than seventy years, suggesting the collapse of
My wall of denial, behind which had been stored layers of confounding
Emotionally debilitating sadness, which having been newly released, frees
My conscious connection to wholeness to fully acknowledge
The heavily weighted, personal impact that my sweet baby sister's death had on
My psyche, which had sensed that her life had been snuffed out before
She'd lived long enough to have had a conscious clue as to how deeply
She'd been loved and mourned, not just by her parents, but
By grief struck, three year old me—and in addition to the fact that
My think tank has successfully puzzled its way toward
Enlightening the conscious portion of my mind by fully exposing and identifying
The matched set of triggers, which, likened to bottle of champagne that was
Given reason to pop its cork, repressed pain and grief as well as
A lifetime of emotional complexity erupted and geysered out in a cascade of
Foaming emotion, which has been expressed, over these past three weeks until
I'd sought time to feed my strong need for peaceful seclusion, which offered
My sciatic pain down time to lessen, considerably—and now that I've openly
Confronted my on-going need to fully express my fury at the voting populous for
Elevating Trump, a known sexual predatory pedophile, to the status of world leader
My intuitive voice can safely say that these past several weeks of cocooning
(Whenever Celina didn't need me to provide a happy haven in which to take
Loving care of Ravi's three year old spirit) enabled me to confront
The worst eruption of PTSD that I've experienced since the episode preceding and
Following Will’s cancer surgery, four years ago, and now that both episodes
Make sense, my anxiety has not just eased up—it has totally subsided—and
Knowing that I've made my way through this attack so quietly (without drawing
Undo attention away from various festivities that everyone enjoyed) suggests that
No one's pleasure, throughout this holiday weekend, was disrupted, indicating
Yet another spiritually strengthening fact: Though my conscious mind felt too
Fuzzy to pinpoint the matched set of triggers that had catalyzed
This episode of PTSD to erupt, the intuitive portion of my brain had actually
Maintained a portion of its connection to intelligent thought, throughout
The three day weekend, at least enough to free my spirit to smile and embrace
More than seventy loved ones (some of whom had partied with us during
Thanksgiving and then we saw that number more than double, during
Ravi's backyard birthday party) while my brain hovered between
Two planes of awareness, suggestive of yet another spiritually strengthening fact:
Rather than capitulating to the intensity of this episode of PTSD, which
Saw my mind reeling in an overstimulated state, I did not feel
A pressing need to bow out of the festivities and remain cocooned at home
In fact, I found myself participating good-naturedly, as cool as a cucumber, meaning
That I'd maintained enough strength of spirit to hold my need to
Spin my cocoon at bay for three action-filled days, and that insight-driven reflection
Suggests my growing awareness of this fact:
Between June and November of this year, my line of self control has gained
A considerable sense of dominance over serious attacks of PTSD—I mean
If we back track to the month of June, when my family rented
A spacious beach house where three generations of Shapiro's chose to convene on
The west coast in celebration of Bryan’s high school graduation, we can
Reflect over the fact that the only family function I'd been able to
Muster the courage and energy to attend (during that entire light-headed week) was
The graduation ceremony, itself—and thus, retrospectively, I can see that
Progress toward change for the better continues to inch forward, little by
Little, concerning my brain’s self motivated, personally challenging
Determination to heal itself completely from feeling threatened by future
Episodic uprisings of PTSD—and with that conscious awareness
Spotlighting mindful changes for the better that serve to enhance
My self-esteeming, positively focused spirit’s quality of life—
My spirit felt sound reason to leap up and smile brightly—right now!
Why? Well—though we all covet the end of a painfully challenging
Mind bending journey, I've grown to embrace the importance of
Celebrating every sweet spot that life offers, which strengthens my connection to
Hope—not once in a while but every day, in some significant, perhaps
Obscure way, signaling my intuitive voice to ring out clear as a bell each time
This fact of life reminds me that its always darkest before the dawn :
With each train of thought penned, the light at the end of the tunnel of
Love draws my connection to clarity, concerning today's reality, nearer to
Feeling wholly fulfilled, and thus will my mind (whether I feel dizzily
Caught up within a future episode of time-traveling PTSD or I feel need to
Refuel mind and spirit in the aftermath of having successfully
Made my way through the haze of each next emotionally charged
Mental maze or I feel spiritually re-energized, mentally grounded and
Emotionally well balanced) seek to embrace every infinitesimal
Change for the better until the blessed day dawns when my well grounded
Connection to mental clarity, concerning today's reality, banishes
Future episodes of spiritually debilitating PTSD from erupting and
Invading my personal safety's sense of pure joy—once and for all
Whew!
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