Thursday, May 1, 2008

The Multiples and My Little Kid Have Lots of Fears

NOTE: This blog contains explicit content and occasional "triggers" to get key points across. These can be many things:

music samples
key words or phrases
and more

If these bother you, stop reading. Otherwise, continue and thanks for your support.

The pressure continues to build. Pick an issue: Obama and Hillary, Rev. Wright, the recession, attacking Iran and more. I really try to stay away from as many triggers as possible. But at times my intuiton has trouble sorting it all out. It's like reading the subtitles in what someone does or says. If you're in a crowded room, multiply that by ten or twenty. I still want to snap (usually in a crowded place). And I think, what do I do? If there's nowhere to hide and you see someone else, what do I do? You try to look cool and calm on the outside. But on the inside you feel like you're going to snap.

Then, when you try to get help, it still feels like nobody wants anything to do with you. Guys who are rape survivors and non vets are at the bottom of the food chain. Vets and women who have trauma are a step up. But as for the rest of you, just disappear and die. Nobody wants to be around you as you freak us out. So just hide in the corner and do us all a favor. We're trying to eat here, ok?

My therapist and I talk about never having a family. Biologically you do. But beyond that, no. We think, how can anybody be that f*****g sick to their own kid. We cry and wonder, can we trust anybody? Is EVERYBODY in the world like this? What do we do then? Now it seems like the gap between the haves and the have nots gets bigger all the time. Almost all women survivors I try to talk to want nothing to do with me. Because I'm a guy who got repeatedly raped. And there's no freaking catagory in society for people like that.

Did you know that there are many therapists out there who think PTSD is a scam? In the military, it's a draft dodge. You try to get help, and what happens. PTSD is a joke, so go away. I don't deal with insurance bulls**t. So you deal with it. You struggle with dissociating and all the other symptoms. But nobody has the time to deal with you. You were stupid enough to get f****d in the ass more than once. So you fix it. I won't tolerate your stupidity or f*****g weakness. Just go away.

My therapist says, if I died tomorrow, the family would care. And I honestly don't know if that's true or not. Up until now, you can't be bothered to deal with my s**t. So why should I trust you now? Why would you suddenly change and actually give a f**k about what happens to me?

How do I deal with this? I compartmentalize and that helps some to cope. Because being a parent is a priviledge and not a right. But some m****rf*****s don't know s**t about that.

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