“Everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goals, if
he is able to think, if he is able to wait, if he is able to fast.” Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
All the news sound strange this morning, most of it just a little strange, but some of it is really really out there. In my mind the strangest I’ve encountered so far is a thought of my own, which arose while reading about what the literally and thoroughly appalling Mr. Trump has done this time. And I thought – can’t somebody just make him stop. I don’t know what got into me. My state of mind, after I got home from work yesterday, was as bad as it has been within recent memory. It’s not much better this morning but at least the anger and paranoia I felt has come back down. An early small dose of anxiety meds helped a lot. So did burning some white sage, just in case dark shadows might be real. I can’t say one way or another, but regular readers of this blog should know that I never hesitate to consider the possibility. The point being made, or hopefully being made, is that it’s all calmed down now, so I can give myself a break. That’s one of the tricky parts of mental illness – a bad spell does a bad thing by convincing us to carry it forth long after the trigger or trauma is over, gone, whatever.
I just took pause after the previous paragraph to sneak a glance at Facebook, at my newsfeed. I noticed something that I had simply glanced over before, although it has been there for at least one day now. The annual “Dog Days of Summer” benefit concert for Stray Hearts Animal Shelter, which happens come August, is featuring the old band Firefall as a headliner. I always liked that band. Easy listening. We called it “Adult Contemporary” back then. That in itself is lovely, and I hope that the turnout and proceeds from the concert will be stellar. As much as I have griped about the shelter in these pages I have come to realize that it was all ‘people stuff’, that the shelter as an institution, enterprise, public service, whatever, is deeply important to me. I feel honored to have worked there for the 16 months that I managed to achieve. It always tickles me when I mention that I worked at the shelter I so often hear, “Oh, you got paid?”. Yes I did. It was an enriching experience and I got paid. Pretty good deal. Now, about Firefall, and why this is important for me. Back in 1984, Firefall was the first band to play at the night club where I worked, right after my bicycle crash, which delivered to me a respectable head trauma and a Near Death Experience. In memory I am pretty sure that I did not attend the concert. I can’t say for sure. The scars on my face, from the facial impaction, were still showing traces of the wounds that put them there. And I was still freshly trying to cope with the serious duality hammered into me by the fact that I had seen Cosmic Oneness, first hand, and had come out of that vision to face a world where nobody friggin wanted to hear it. A world, small though it may have been, where people dismissed the severity of my injuries, and they scoffed at my reports of celestial beauty. The night club was pumped up on cocaine and Crown Royal. But I didn’t get support from family or friends either. Not that I remember. What I remember is a feeling of supreme isolation. And I had a headache. Poor me, right/ I was simultaneously enraged at society and dazzled by celestial beauty. So Firefall was simply another bit of flotsam kicked up by hurricane force winds that no one else could see or feel. What I am saying while playing with words here is that seeing the Facebook post about Firefall acted as a PTSD trigger. Boy howdy I am having a flashback. It just tears me up to think about what I went through back then. That accident was the birth of PTSD for me, and I am all like weepy and stuff so I’d better get a shower – oh, feed the cat first – and then feed and dress myself. Functioning in society requires a brave face. I’ve got one of those and it works well. The rest of this stuff is all for me to work out in the privacy of my own mind. As luck would have it I have a therapy session tomorrow. Yeah, whatever.Ya gotta be tough if you have to cry before work. It should be a good day though. I insist.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.