Writing about What Hurts.

Write hard and clear about what hurts.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

 

It’s all very difficult to front up and say this: I’ve been on a journey. If you know me personally, you will know this.

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Scroll to see the back story! It’s been six months in the making! Now I have some peace of mind. After an arduous journey, I find peace and simplicity in my garden and walking my dog 🙂
The hardest task is to write hard and clear about what hurts! I could say that I had fallen down the rabbit hole of addiction, again! I was well aware that I was physically compromised at the age of 26. I gave up drinking for an entire decade. All my children were born when I was sober. For a decade. Did this protect me, No! Asshole alcohol!
I moved to California after giving up abstinence and at first , my excitement and love of life protected me. Then I found myself on a roller-coaster. I was completely honest with my friends. I’ve had to sometimes medically give up alcohol in case I suffered bad events from giving up too quickly. This is hard to admit to. In America you are expected to be a cookie cutter Mom! On one level it is fabulous! Who doesn’t want to live on a screen set! And on another level I feel like I’m set up for high expectations This is not an excuse. This is me. I’m in my early forties, a driver today said I looked around thirty.  Even if I have a booze habit (receding behind me) I’ll take the compliment!

Haha!
From now on, once I lose the stupid craving and depression from giving up alcohol, I will strive to give you tips on living well.
I have met so many people. I have met fellows with PTSD. We sat around a table once and we were all shaking. I learnt that one had been airlifted from 9/11 to Kabul with five days notice. Thereupon after digging limbs from the rubble in 9/11, and upon arrival in Kabul, they were confronted with a canteen that had bullet marks head height.  A rain of them. If this guy had been there a day before, he might not have been alive. Another guy had to refuel bombers in midair. There was no room for mistakes.
I learned that PTSD can be caused by an absent Dad with mental health issues. My Mom was awesome by the way. But it takes one person in the wrong place to cause indelible harm. I want to speak to all of you. There are so many hurt and injured. From the girl who took off from treatment (trigger) to the Tenderloin and was raped at gunpoint.
It’s such a struggle.An everyday struggle. I love you all. (Trigger) My hairdresser who was raped at the age of four and all of the numerous friends who have recounted straight faced  their time when the big bad wolf got them. This includes guys. The Catholic church hung crosses around the necks of boys ho were vulnerable. They were marked as prey.
Dear friends. There is peace. And hope. The road is worthwhile.

 

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