Depression and BiPolar
View allAll Photos Tagged ptsd
This cowboy is in big trouble. The only thing that doesn't end up hurting is his hat. Stay tuned for the next episode! Warning... If you have PTSD please don't look at what's coming. Rodeo is the only place a horse can hurt a human and can get away with it.
Alice exhibits symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia, and the Mad Hatter those of both Bipolar disorder and PTSD, Alice in Wonderland is a story so infused with mental illness that both of these characters actually had syndromes named after them...and we thought they were just bedtime stories read by loving parents....
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEr_5C6JYB4
CURELESS+[n.i] aliceinmonsterland / 01 / thehatter RARE
CURELESS+[n.i] aliceinmonsterland / 12 / queenscollar
CURELESS+[n.i] aliceinmonsterland / 04 / whiterabbit
:Moon Amore: Circus / Ruffle Collar (Blood)
DustyHut Glasses
This is an entirely new direction for my photography as well as being deeply personal. On occasion for those who have followed me from the beginning, I have eluded to having experience of mental health issues. The truth is, as is the title of this Album, I suffer from CPTSD, which stands for Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, unlike PTSD that extends from one or two short term incidences of trauma, CPTSD extends from the long term effects of trauma. Sometimes from abuse and trauma having lasted for years or even decades, as such was my case.
This new collection will focus on this condition that was only recognised in the DSM 3 back in 1980 and few people know about it. This hopefully will bring about awareness of the condition and help others who suffer from trauma based condition to feel comfortable to speak about it.
Frankly, I couldn't give a shit if I don't get much in the way of faves/likes, it's the information I want to get out and the therapy it serves me and maybe others. Thank you if you read all this, means a lot.
I trust everyone is well and so as always, thank you!
PS: and yes, that is me ;)
Is it safe to come out yet ? Don’t worry,
We’ll just feel it when the time is right.
We’ll just be Hanging Low in Paradise…
The song by Miles Corbin,
“Hanging Low in Paradise”
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“Yes, star-crossed in pleasure,
the stream flows on by
Yes, as we're sated in leisure,
we watch it fly, yes
And time waits for no one,
and it won't wait for me
And time waits for no one,
and it won't wait for me…
Drink in your summer,
gather your corn
The dreams of the nighttime
will vanish by dawn
And time waits for no one,
and it won't wait for me”
by
The Rolling Stones- written by the
Glimmer Twins, Mick Jagger + Keith
Richards
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Cherokee Park, Louisville, Kentucky, USA
I don't often express my feelings but with this photo I had to share.............
PTSD is real .... I've been battling this long road of Night terrors for the past few days, and I can't help but feel locked into a dark memory black hole.
Replaying the same trauma over and over again.......
WHEN WILL IT STOP!
Always the outdoorsman...he hunted quail, deer, elk, mountain lion, trotlined for catfish, fished for bass in the creeks and ponds and trout in mountain streams. He served as a medic in WWII and received the Soldier's Medal for pulling 5 men from a crashed and burning airplane in Italy in 1943. He suffered from severe PTSD the rest of his life...1921-1978.
A Brighter Veterans Day sunrise reflecting on some Fall color, heavy frost and very cold morning, today is of course Veterans Day as well as the 100th Aniversary of th end of WW1. Today I honor my Grandfather who served in WW1, in France, half of the Battalion he was with were KIA, he was gassed several times and continued to have health problems including PTSD called shell shock untill he passed away at 49 years old. I honor all my friends and my buddies and all the Vets I have known in my lifetime. May we all pray for Peace on Earth.
This building opened in 1934 as a veterans treatment center for veterans of WWl. This included the main building as well as the separate Veterans Dining Block. Expansions were made in 1945 and reopened in 1949 as the Crease Clinic of Psychological Medicine, a short-term psychological treatment center. Now used almost exclusively for film production, including episodes of the X-files.
Coquitlam, BC Canada
*No copies or reproductions please and thank-you
Riverview Hospital is a Canadian mental health facility located in Coquitlam, British Columbia. It operated under the governance of BC Mental Health & Addiction Services when it closed in July 2012.
Thank-you for all the overwhelming support and many friendships. Wishing you all health during this difficult time.
Stay Healthy, both physically and 'mentally', as these are challenging times.
~Christie
**Best experienced in full screen
Credits coming soon...
Thank you and a billion hugs to everyone who has viewed, liked, or commented on my work <3 The piece above was done when insomnia and depression/PTSD hit me at the same time. So I was not really sure how it would turn out...
May you all be able to sleep and create each day <3
The theatre filled with people and the lights dimmed, then Adam told me that he has PTSD. He said that he’d served in the Viet Nam War and cannot cope with stressful situations, crowds, threatening encounters, loud noises and especially fireworks. I’ve yet to meet a Viet Nam vet who was not damaged in some way, and this was not the time for a deep and meaningful.
The show got under way and was a brilliant performance of song, dance, mime, comedy and superb music. The folk show was a triumph of entertainment; by far one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen. Such a shame there was a parallel show of drama and pathos playing out next to me at the same time.
“Is there a way for you to shine without fear?
From other worlds
But you can't say what keeps you here
Dancing on the astral plane
Holy water cleansing rain
Floating through the stratosphere
Blind, but yet you see so clear”
From the song by Valerie June, written by Valerie June Hockett
youtu.be/rN35g4eLQgg?si=hoGBXPTl74hlfCH_
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Captiva Island, Florida, USA, Gulf of Mexico
“Now I have found still waters
The silence rules the waves
I feel the wind slowing down around me
And a mirror is unveiled
How I've been longing for this moment when
The rivers are running
All towards the same sea
For this moment when I'm free”
~Ane Brun ~ from her song “Still Waters”
youtu.be/UaTONcmNotI?si=1xm_NqR4BLMaOVIF
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Hand Stylus sparkles by moi
Thanks to the Mims Florida tourist
Society parking lot !
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© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Beachscape shot from Barassie Beach, Troon, Scotland.
On the first day of 2024 my first shot in 8 months.
The beach was actually incredibly busy with people taking a New Years Day dip in the single figure temperature waters. I was not well enough to get close enough to anyone to take a reasonable photograph but found this piece of driftwood instead. The largest piece of driftwood I have seen on the beach in the past year thanks to the recent batch of Atlantic storms.
Suffering from PTSD you have a smaller 'green zone' or ability to cope with anything outside of a very narrow 'normal', Sometimes that green zone is miniscule and at other times you can cope more normally. I managed a short walk on the beach for about ten minutes before I had to leave. Given that I have barely left the house for a couple of weeks, this was a big achievement.
Trauma is crippling. It steals your life. I hope that it is not entirely insurmountable and I am taking the baby steps needed to reclaim my life.
The first photograph in 8 months is a big step in getting reacquainted with my camera. Thank you all for your support and understanding.
Quote by David McKay
The less I say about a picture, the more meaning it has without me saying a word.
This bird was involved in an extended, epic battle with two others. I guess it won because it perched right on it's favorite food source.
I've seen this "feather fluff" before and thought it was a display of aggression. Now I think it is an effort to cool down.
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Street photography from Glasgow, Scotland.
A previously unpublished shot from June 2018 with an anonymised subject that is perfect to answer the oft asked question: Why am I not currently doing street photography?
I have CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Disorder) and have suffered with it for 20 years.
I managed to live through the technicolour nightmares, flashbacks, intrusive memories and triggered hypervigilance with a number of coping strategies but the Covid pandemic interuppted those and my symptoms worsened greatly. Over the past 3 years my CPTSD became unmanageable and I became really very ill.
I have recently finished a year of intensive trauma therapy which has been a great help but the road to recovery is a long process. Most days I am still unable to even leave the house and face people, and this explains why I haven't even touched my camera for the past 5 months.
I am making progress and am proud of what I have acheived to overcome these difficulties but the road ahead will be rocky, and may take some time and intense effort. I do fully intend to return to my beloved 'people photography' as soon as I am able to do so.
This is why your continued support while I have been uploading older unpublished shots and re-edits has been invaluable. I am grateful beyond measure for your kind words, favourites and support and it has, at times, kept me going and determined to pick up my camera once again.
I recently read someone else's words on CPTSD that sum up the difficulties quite well. I'll leave this here to give you an idea of what I am up against and am determined to beat. Thank you all so very, very much.
PTSD is a living hell but I am determined to not let those that did this to me, win.
Take care everyone.
---
PTSD isn't just flashbacks and memories.
It's not feeling safe when there is no logical reason for it.
It's intrusive thoughts that change your whole mood in a heartbeat.
It's hypervigilance, seeing threats everywhere.
It's not being able to trust your own instincts because you don't know what is a real threat or what is just in your mind.
It's poor sleep because if you close your eyes you know you will see it all again.
It's not being able to function day to day because you are broken and exhausted.
It's feeling like a failure, feeling like you deserve it and feeling like you will be like this forever.
It's feeling like you can't trust anyone so you would rather be alone.
It's constantly dealing with physical symptoms like headaches, nausea and palpitations.
It's like living in a prison made from your own mind beacuse of what someone else did to you.
It's living with the consequences of someone else's actions and the anger that can bring too.
It's getting triggered into a traumatised state by sometimes seemingly random things.
It's being unable to cope with even the slightest thing that goes wrong.
It's blaming yourself and hating yourself for 'failing' to stand up against those who caused the trauma.
Took this photo with my old Minolta 35mm camera & color slide film during a trip to Washington, DC in 1975.
Walking past the Viet Nam Memorial, looking for names you knew, friends you lost, was like walking into a grave. It hurt. I cried. I wasn't the only one who felt that way.
PTSD is like a scar. You can cover it up, but it will never go away. Ever. Ever.
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Captured in April 2022 during a local walkabout with my camera in East Kilbride, Scotland.
My life is unravelling fast. My health deteriorated, my PTSD worsened and now some devastating news yesterday that removes my safety, security and wonderful beach walks.
I have been dealt with blow after blow throughout my life. I overcame them all. This time I am completely empty. I have no resilience left. I can barely take care of myself at times. I can hardly even leave the house or answer the door at times.
I don't know how I cope with this.
I lost my beloved career, my physical health, my mental health, my friends, my cats Kitteh and Jasper, my dad, my mum, my independence, my mobility, my ability to cope with anything going slightly wrong and now I have lost my partner. My home by the beach will soon follow. 20 years... 20 years. Gone.
I need a safe space to cope with my PTSD. I don't have a safe space.
I don't know how to survive this. I have nothing left. 300 miles away from my family. No friends nearby. I have nothing.
I am sorry to pour my heart out to you all but I wanted to let you all know what is going on because you have all been so kind to me.
Your support has been incredible throughout my photography journey. I can't begin to thank you all enough for that. You have warmed my heart deep down over and over again. You deserve honesty if I am unable to post any more photographs.
Take care of yourselves and each other. I'm done.
In my last post, a couple of my friends rightly pointed out that Christmas could be a lonely time for many people. How is that so? Christmas is a time of merriness and joy, but for those who are suffering from PTSD (and, of course, not only them) it is a time of anxiety. Situations like meeting new people, being in a noisy crowded room, are stressful for PTSD or trauma survivors. They are already putting a smiley-face mask on. But, life has a habit of going on.
And for the rest of us, who are trying to find the best recipe for stuffing that turkey for the extended family visiting over Christmas, it’s OK. No one is a superhero.
So, just breathe. Or better still, get outdoors.
An older photo taken by me.
I wanted to upload a photo, and I was going to upload one of my newer photos.. and then I realized my SD card is in my camera.. and before grabbing it I realized it's been a very long time since I've uploaded one of my older photos. (So here's one).
____________
Today is a busy-ish week.
We've had quite a few appointments.. and thankfully we've already made it thru more than half of them (with the least amount of stress- which I'm SO grateful for!) I was really expecting it to be a lot more stressful.. (I'm a 'catastrophic thinker' due to my PTSD and I'm always panicking and expecting the worst).. But after whatever the situation is - is done, I'm always grateful that it didn't go as bad as I'd imagined.. However, I am hoping to work thru that part of my PTSD because it's debilitating. They say stress is really bad for you, well if you guys knew the amount of stress that my body goes thru for a simple appointment (most of the time) you'd understand why this is an issue to me. I spoke to a professional about it, and I'm going to make an appointment soon to talk to him... he seems to think that it's fixable.
>>Example of my catastrophic thinking is: After Juan drops me off for work, he KNOWS that he has to message me when he makes it hope safely. If he doesn't, I will call him on my break.. & if he doesn't answer.. (without my mind sorting it out and being optimistic) I literally think that his car is upside-down in a ditch.. on fire. and YEAH... so you can see why this can be an issue??) I am very grateful that Juan understands this! He remembers 95% of the time to message me, "SAFE". But that other 5%...?! AHHH!
Anyway.. I am grateful to have coworkers, friends and family who understand this about me. I mean I guess it's not THAT big of an issue.. it goes hand in hand with my severe anxiety. However, I work thru it EVERY DAY (and it's very bad). The PTSD is managed right now for the most part thru medication.. (it works wonders for the flash backs and nightmares- it's a miracle medication).
◻ It is 100% possible to WORK & be a functioning/valuable member of society after trauma. After addiction & coming from the very bottom, you can also rise up. I am an example of both, gratefully.
Now, like I said.. it isn't easy.. and it can get VERY bad some days. I just have to make sure to let everyone know as soon as I realize - that my anxiety is really acting up.. & I am so grateful for the people in my life, who love me & understand.
But, like I said.. it IS possible to function. It is possible to LIVE. Even though some days it feels impossible.. you push through it! And you SURVIVE! The feeling afterwards is amazing.. That you made it through another day.. (when it felt like you wouldn't). But the best feeling is when you realize how great of a support system that you have surrounding you...
THIS IS WHY- you have to talk to people about it. Not everyone. But the people who are close to you and work with you/live with you.. They need to know & understand.. and that will make all of the difference.. (for you to continue and succeed.
_________
I truly hope that you all have a BEAUTIFUL & BLESSED DAY!
Thank you all for all of your kind words, support & comments.
Thank you for your continuous friendships. I appreciate you all.. and look forward to reading your nice comments & viewing your beautiful photos/artwork.
THANK YOU GUYS.
Take care!
I met this First Nations veteran of various campaigns while en route to visit my daughter. I had stopped to photograph one of the natural wonders of our Country in Grand Falls. He projected something full of quiet humanity while standing next to me, looking at the falls. I asked him if I could take a few shots of him and explained to his girlfriend/wife as well. We connected.
Thank you both for letting me take a few photos and allowing me into your world, even for this short time.
Cassandra Burgess, artist of this three-dimensional chalk, metal and wood, created as a loving tribute to her father. Cassandra Burgess describes her work:
"Creating the piece 'PTS' throughout this last year was a form of therapy for me. My father, also known as Chief Master Sergeant Robert Burgess, served in the war and came back changed. I expected him to come back changed, but not permanently. The changes in my family were undescribable. Working on ‘PTS’ was originally an escape from the changes but it became the very place that helped me process my feelings. I disconnected my mind and put my body into it. I drew, sculpted, sanded and physically worked through what I was feeling. The 2D chalk pastel drawing transitions to a 3D sculpture made of plaster, metal, and wood. It resembles the transition of my denial of my father having PTSD to a tangible reality in my life. The abstract forms coming from the helmet resembles what cannot be described. My father's eyes constantly remind me that he has experienced things that can't be described or understood unless you have experienced it yourself."
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Acupuncture is one of the alternative treatments for PTSD offered at the Combat Stress Reset Center at Fort Hood, along with reiki, sound therapy, meditation, massage and others. The general idea is to help soldiers relax - hyper arousal is a huge problem when soldiers return from combat.
When it comes to using acupuncture and Chinese medicine to treat PTSD, they don't come much more knowledgable than Joe Chang. He's written books on the subject, and the other doctors at the center described him as the best there is.
This street artwork is one of a panel of a sequence in Torquay, Devon. I was hit by the poignancy of both the words and images in the panels, and photographed as many as I could in-between the parked cars, and street furniture.
*Working Towards a Better World
Here is a link telling you about these wonderful dogs who most definitely are our best friends:
Assistance Dogs International : Service Dogs
www.assistancedogsinternational.org/about-us/types-of-ass...
There are infinite duties these dogs serve from
. Mobility – Pick up items, pull wheelchair, open & close doors, assist in balance.
. Hearing – Alerts handler to specific sounds and take handler to them.
. PTSD – Assist in keeping a person grounded and trained to alert when mental state changes.
. Seizure Prediction – Train pets to be service dogs that already naturally detect handlers seizures and alert them before they occur. (very rare)
. Seizure Response – Train a dog to respond to a seizure while it occurs by holding the handler down, getting help or barking to attract attention.
. Medical Alert – Train dogs for invisible conditions and to alert the handler.
. Diabetic Alert – Train dogs to detect high or low blood sugar levels and alert handler.
. Emotional Support Animal (ESA) – Train basic obedience of pet dogs for therapeutic use in housing.
. Blind - for the blind and the visually impaired.
. Therapy - who help patients in hospitals.
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! xo💜💜
My Father-in-Law has suffered from PTSD since coming home from Vietnam. I always think of the lyrics from Poison's song, "something to believe in" - anytime I don't remember, in a war he can't forget.
“ Spinning Thoughts-Masked Emotions ”
"I wanted to make up for my "long shutter" disaster last week. It was time for a self portrait. It was fun creating this. I got my favorite mask out & set up my tripod & timer.. and snapped a few shots, this one being my favorite. I feel like this image, screams "emotion".
I'm all about "mental health awareness" & I like to show/discuss it in my PERSONAL images.
& I feel like this photo shows the inner feelings of someone, during an anxiety attack.. overwhelmed, scared, head spinning, unsure, out of body, numb, can't breathe.. the list goes on. I hate anxiety & PTSD, but it's important for people suffering to know that they're not alone. & Also to raise awareness to friends & family of those suffering.. Trying to show them what their loved one feels.. It helps. God bless you all!"
_____________________
Above, was literally copy and pasted from my 52Frames Submission. Which actually will not be available to view until at least Tuesday, I believe. However, the link to my page if anyone IS interested is:
52frames.com/photographer/17600
_____________
I hope that everyone is doing fantastic this week! I'm doing and feeling a bit better than last week.. Which is why I wanted to do a decent photo for this week's challenge.. *dedicated to mental health, as always*. Thankfully I was able to do a self portrait, and I'm actually happy with the way it turned out.
I even liked my hair ties on my arm, almost to offset the other arm not having them I guess? Either way, I liked & left them there.
**THIS is "Long SHUTTER". Me set up in front of my camera/tripod with the timer on.. and moving my head while the camera snapped away. This one was my favorite. I'm quite happy with it, to be honest.. which is why I wanted to share with you guys..
LOCATION: For those of you wondering, this was taken at my house. No flash or reflectors. I just used the little bit of sunlight coming thru the window in my front door - but I left the door closed this time (I usually will open it). I set up my tripod & used the light coming from the door, and positioned myself in front of it.
I recently bought a NICE FLASH *that you put on your camera* & a diffuser. I really am thinking that I ought to practice with that darn thing soon! I am such a procrastinator... I truly am! I need a push.. or a big shove.. to start playing with it again lol. Or take it out of the box... at least lmao!
Tkae care & GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
PTSD is a bitch. But i wondered if sharing my pain, will make you feel less alone. Youre not alone.
as for /you/. you mistook me for weak when you tried to break me. Mistook what a broken doll would look like with the fire in my eyes. I will never stop fighting. Never stop beating you. You dont scare me anymore. you dont scare me at all.
Art has always been an easy way for me to channel my fears, my pain. I have found a special love for sl photography and combining the two, makes my soul feel a little more complete than yesterday.
A special thank you to the one who made me Kintsugi. Thank you for picking me up and putting me back together again by showing me that i could.
I CANT HEAR YOU, I DONT FEAR YOU NOW.
This started out as an image of my shadow cast from a late afternoon sun while I was standing on a picnic table in a park. This is where it ended up.
Free to download. Some Rights Reserved.
20030523DE Franziska R. got PTSD after shooting a man with a gun - lives, retired, among her horses #emop #2016 #blackandwhite #15 #knownknowns&unknownknowns #art #realpeople #reallives #portraits #b&w #photography #horses #ptsd #instagram #street www.hughes-photography.eu www.flickr.com/photos/michael_hughes www.monochrome.photos www.hughes.berlin
I know many people who struggle with PTSD &/or have anxiety disorder & many feel as though their voice has been smothered by the people who don't understand their pain & struggle. This one was done for those living alone in silence with their pain...
Not All Wounds Are Visible.
The number of Veterans with PTSD varies by service era: Operations Iraqi Freedom (OIF) and Enduring Freedom (OEF): About 11-20 out of every 100 Veterans (or between 11-20%) who served in OIF or OEF have PTSD in a given year.
A study released in 2022 found that as many as 44 veterans die on average per day from suicide when accounting overlooked causes of death that are aligned with suicidal and self harm behavior, which is 2.4 times greater than the official estimate.
All who bear this are strong men and women who have served. there is people out there wiling and wanting to help you. as a veteran advocate i stand with you no matter what. The picture i did captures the mental toll of war in an older man with his younger shelf placing his hand on his shoulder.
if you are a veteran and is seeking help here is a list of places for you.
“Unlike other forms of psychological disorders, the core issue in trauma is reality.”
~ Bessel van der Kolk (from his book 'The Body Keeps the Score')
"Shell shock," a term originating in World War I, described psychological and neurological disorders in soldiers resulting from combat stress, now known as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
~
While shell shock specifically described responses to warfare, PTSD can occur in anyone who experiences a terrorizing or traumatic event. Although it can occur due to war experience, it may also occur due to car accidents, surviving a terror attack, or any number of other causes. Both male and female can get this - even children.
~
Sometimes we ask just a little too much of people;
especially those that have or are serving men & women.
~
ai layers manipulated with in gimp
The older I get, the more I am becoming a stranger.
Fryodor Dostoevsky wrote “What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.” He was right on many levels. And as I get older, I give thanks that I have become unexpected, because of it! I found that the first part of enabling yourself to love, is to love and be kind, not just to others, but also towards yourself. And that this could be applied to the principle of the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to share how personally significant it is. How on reflection of its application, I now appreciate why it is so important.
The consideration of love, come about after a face book conversation with a young man I help raise. He was a kind, and happy young man, but he wrote something on social media that made me genuinely concerned for him. He wrote of post-traumatic stress syndrome, or PTSD and I tried to convey to him that despite what may have happened to him, or what he may have seen to cause it, that he should be kind to himself. I wrote to him saying he should be easy on himself. I told him we all loved him. We loved him because he was a kind, and respectful person. Talking to him, helped teach me, that we all make mistakes, and that sometimes despite making no mistakes at all, and despite being utterly blameless, we witness things that no person should witness. I conveyed to him that we must remember that we are not to blame, even despite at times our direct involvement. I indirectly shared a little part of myself with him, not just because I am proud of how he turned out, as he now helps me, and others. I shared it, because he assisted me, one way or another, and as a result he helped me to write this, a self-reflection that helps me with my own PTSD.
Thanks Ben.
Despite only being a little older than fifty, my mind and body, no longer match nor recognise the person I once was, and my recollections of my character become more frequently and every so often vailed. Despite the change of loss, it still cuts a little. It was not that I showed pride, it was not that my ego was hurt or reduced, it was from the personal experience of PTSD that I spoke to Ben with an adult honesty, an honesty that I always showed him even when he was a child. And it made me realize that despite the ever present or looming Spector of PTSD, that the thing that grates me, was the idea that some thought it was a weakness. Although never considering myself as weak, the considerations were foreign and made me reconsider who I was as a person.
So, who is this new person, this stranger?
I do not know, and to be honest; it is just that the more I write about myself, to myself, the more I appreciate the efforts I made. The more I write, the less, and curiously the more of a stranger I become. I reiterate, over and over to myself, about just how many failures it took to achieve anything. And it should be noted that failure is not necessarily an end; it is in general I have found, “…the start of doing something meaningful…, to paraphrase someone from somewhere in the cloud...
The more I look back, one of the things that I appreciate, was giving the benefit of the doubt. And although I fell on my face applying it on multiple occasions, I dearly valued how it helped, not just those that I gave it to, but in the end, it helped me! It helped me value the person I had become, and very fortunately it helped me value the person I was, despite all that had happened. Because of my application of it to others, I learnt to give myself the benefit of the doubt. And writing about it in my diary, makes me appreciate the principle, for what it is. It showed me just how clever it remains, and of how much worth it has as an intrinsic value or idiom. It in retrospect seemed like just a thing you do, and it should be noted that to give it, (the benefit of the doubt), and expect something back, other than to be granted the courage that it might be possibly or hopefully reciprocated, lacks integrity and self-sacrifice. It was something I was taught by my parents to do as a child, and I did it, and do it, because I was instructed that it was the right thing to do. I keep it up, because now I know, it is the just thing to do, not just a thing you do.
The application of this fundamental axion, pushed for me, to try to treat people with respect, even if I did not know them. It is not that I respect them, whoever they are, as my respect is earned, it is that I respect their right to be treated humanely and with humility. And until recently, I never fully treated myself with this respect. As a result, I now have become a stranger to myself. The more I learn, the more I find out, and the more I understand that I was not what other people thought I was. That they never really knew me. That their opinion of me was in general in error, and or self-serving of themselves.
I never forget the mistakes I made, which is part of my PTSD. But I try and be kind to myself and not dwell on them, as learning is and always will be an objective, and I now know we, as in humanity, universally make mistakes, while learning. I know that this is part of the learning process. These mistakes are written about in humanities survival manuals, printed, and etched in text to help us. Reading of others, not just personally observing them, and having firsthand experience, reinforced that this scenario played out repeatedly in its truism. It helped not just with forgiving myself for my mistakes or failings, but it aided in forgiving others for theirs. Due to this maxim, and its novel application to myself, I now look at this foreign person that I have never seen before. That person was me, and ironically, always was. I look at myself in a new light. It is not that I had an epiphany about who I was, I just never gave myself any credit, as not many others did. It was a trait written in one of my high school reports.
Despite them saying things like you are not bright enough; or you do not have the capacity, I just kept on going, like Vinsent from the movie Gattica. My mother gently pushed me not to listen to the people that said things like you cannot do that, or you will not succeed if you go down that rout. I tried never to listen to the nay sayers, because that is what my mother taught me. Although at times, I did. She was so calm and repetitive in saying it, that I should just keep on going. And as my capacity to take hits lessons, and my body runs out of time, I am losing some of the innocence I once had. The naive ignorance, and faith, in my capacity to weather personal injury slowly diminishes. I am not becoming a grumpy old man, sinical or anything like that. But, as my ability to disregard the opinion of those that thought, or think, of my applications of intellect, where acts of stupidity, I now become a little inelastic. My perseverance for those that thought it, and felt no shame in publicly pronouncing it, gets less, and because of their ridicule, I have become more.
In Australia, right or wrong we cut down tall poppies, and I have been cut down many times. This process seems highly ironic, as I never stood tall for all but a second in my youth. And boy did I get cut down by those that disagreed with me. Recently it seemed to me that they were just flogging a dead horse, trying to bleed the very last drop of effort out, all the while offering no just reward. But unlike Boxer from George Orwell’s novel Animal farm, I am not at the knackery yet, nor have I been sold for more whiskey for the pigs. It has not gone quite that far, although it has been tried by those that sort to capitalise on my work. And although my study and work put me in many perilous positions, some of which had left me socially prostrate and biochemically brutalised, it was the innocence and naivety, with which I went about my work, just like Boxer, that I am happy about. An innocence or loyalty that was, and is, of a worth that I personally think is immeasurable. It was not just a loyalty to people, but to values and things I had been taught.
Standing on principles that where and are sometimes profoundly challenged by my peers is and was in fact a strength. Most do not know the value or strength of virtue. And the revaluation, of its consideration helped me establish who I am, and what I went through. It helped reduce the PTSD, and now I am someone foreign to me. Like a thought of the third person, I have become a welcome stranger to myself. It has caused a process of revaluation, and in that process, I have become someone new, someone alien, someone of value. And just like the welcome swallows that turned up every year at my old house, they as a metaphor for an idea where in contrast, and unlike PTSD. They, like a conscious dream, fly in from nowhere, light up my day, and move on. And just like the birds, who took with them the mosquitos that filled the night air, my considerations take with them, the mosquitoes of my mind. They were such a beautiful little thing to see, and always welcome. For a quite mind is a gift.
This new person was created with two forces, out of something old. Like water and wind, to use a cliché, they helped produce me, with a heavy dose of self-fortitude. They had both worn me out, and worn me down, and I become a considerate tolerant man. Both were my parents. My mother, said and encouraged me to try anything, but she always reminded me, of the demanding work required to achieve said task. In contrast, my father cut down every endeavour I had thought of trying. Where my mother had taught me how to give myself the benefit of the doubt, my father gave me the capacity and discipline to do the work required. Initially he did not believe that I had the capacity to do the miles, to use a cycling term. To do the miles is to suffer for extended periods of time, to work, to churn, or grind away on the pedals as you train. Doing the miles makes your response to the task automatic, disciplined, and acutely effective. The longer you grind, or the more miles you do, the more Zen like you become at a task. Ironically as they both aged, my mother’s enthusiasm for me waned, and my father’s enthusiasm increased.
I do not know, if my father saw in the end, the miles being done, but, and it should be noted that both my mother and my father may have been a bit out, in their accuracy department of their analysis of me early on. Despite this, they both taught me resilience. The resilience, to have the not so common capacity to give the benefit of the doubt. One initially vocally optimistic, and ever encouraging, the other absent in lack of optimism, with an ever-present silence. His silence came from seeing me fall, seeing people laugh at his son, and finding the visual or metaphor more horrid to watch, than it ever was. I do not think he ever worked out, that where I might have lacked the ability to do the miles, it was my persistence in getting back up after a fall, which was my talent or discipline. Due to this, both my mother and father’s appraisals were wrong.
What caused it, this factual error? And to introduce Einstein in my parent’s defence, the situation was relative; it was not just their lack of faith in that I would just keep going after a fall, they just never could clearly see, where I was moving to, or where I was in time. I was on one train, and they were on the other. Like ships in the night passing each other, we never really stopped to talk, I never really discussed my work with them, I never told them about what I did. For when I had, they never believed me, for they could not comprehend my achievements. This social isolation is part of the new person I am, and as I discuss me, and what, or who I am, I come to the realisation of my exploitation by others. With an absence of family to discuss the details of my effort, and the sacrifices I had made, as they would never understand it, I started to write a journal, or a diary, about my work, and put into perspective or context, that journey.
Part of that journey due to my lowly status at work, was I never had a boss who could intimidate me. I never had a boss that could threaten me with a lower position, because I was in general already or always in it, the lowest of jobs. And thus, I become a type of wondering ronin. I am not sure, if my use of the word ronin is the old, or the updated version, but it most certainly is an Australian or western fusion of the two. This wondering, this lack of direction, and the experience of suffering and struggle, become an instructor of joy. It was an indicator, or a sign that I had earned my happiness, and not expected others to pay for it. This work or suffering had educated me, that I had earned the right to smile. I had served not just myself, in my endeavours of my pursuit of personal happiness, but that I had also served others on their quest or personal journey or pursuit of it… It was through my personal suffering, for that is what my work was, that I had lowered my collateral damage to those that surrounded me. I had reduced my infliction on their personal pursuits of happiness. As a result, I gave the benefit of the doubt to my pain, not knowing if it would ever bear fruit. I learnt of the discomfort of others, through my experience. I discovered that I should be considerate, because one way or another, we all suffer, and to intentionally cause another to suffer more is inhumane. I learned what that tribulation may entail, how personal it is, and how much of a double-edged sword it can be, as it is both, friend, and foe. And through the sympathy of other individuals suffering, and because of it, I learnt to give myself the benefit of the doubt, and I concluded that I had earned a decent living.
Studying others and their sacrifice, not just my own, and being respectful to both, helps alleviate the constant reminder of my broken body. The aches, and the pains, that I presume, if I make it to eighty, will all be quite weathering. But for now, they help keep me honest. I can only hope as I become more crippled, that I take more from Yoda than quasi modo. It will help put into context, the sacrifice of others, and just how lucky I have been, in comparison to some. It puts into perspective, that to give the benefit of the doubt, is to sacrifice little, and to give the benefit of the doubt, is to give up nothing. It is staunch, hard, and stoic, with one purpose, to give, and the first person you need to give it to is yourself. It has been both philosophically and religiously said, that suffering, and trial are a gift, a gift reserved for those that can manage it, but sometimes I wonder. At times, I look on at people, and question about their journey, and how much they, which is most of us, endure. And after reading a little of the Philosophers, I concur, luck, and hard work, are no strangers to each other, and when combined, are like magic. A magic so powerful, I no longer recognise myself, or care about my crippled body, nor the PTSD from the events that crippled it.
I was not cursed by my suffering, I was blessed to help not just myself, but others.