PTSD #2

PTSD !!!

was 56 when finally diagnosed with PTSD ( concurrent disorders - PTSD/addiction )....until then, lived with the belief i was terminally damned.....living in fear of the next mysterious, unexpected intense emotional "implosion".

daily life presented as a landscape filled with hidden land-mines....it's been like wandering throughout one of those neglected still-active mine-fields left over from some long forgotten war.

i knew i had a long-standing problem with marijuana....exhibiting all of the classic earmarks of an addict.

life began to slowly, but surely turn around as a result of finally having an accurate clinical diagnosis....something about now being able to name those twin beasts !

at 12 years of age, i first struck someone in the face to win a fight.....what a rush !!!
by this time i had absorbed countless blows to the head and face at the hands of my father, without ever being able to fight back or utter a sound.
there was no way anyone else would ever hit me in the face without paying dearly.
if there was even a hint or possibility of this happening, i seemed to be hard-wired to strike first, in the face....lightning fast, hard and often.

this began a 2 and 1/2 decade long career of unplanned, unexpected violent emotional "explosions" !
i became like a walking land-mine....suddenly erupting with extreme violence whenever the "perceived" threat of physical confrontation seemed unavoidable.

of course, with few exceptions, i experienced acute remorse, guilt, shame and self-loathing when the energy of each violent explosion finally subsided.

this uncontrollable violent streak has cost me countless jobs, sabotaged many opportunities, and alienated almost every loved one i've ever known.

with women, it was the intense hurtfulness of the words, never blows, that brought about the eventual demise of ralationships.

have almost been killed twice in fights, have hospitalized 3 different opponents, and been arrested on assault charges twice.

by the grace of the powers that be, no-one was killed or seriously injured.

more often than not, it was alcohol that fueled the fires of rage and indignation.

it seemed that other male humans could smell the fear on me, like pack-animals will do, and would soon be directing their natural aggressive instincts towards me.

as long as alcohol was in the picture, i was like a magnet inviting physical confrontations, not being conscious of looking for trouble, but rarely shying away when it occured.

over time and with each intensely traumatizing violent experience, i began to choose isolation as a defense mechanism, removing myself from daily involvement within worldly affairs.
this seemed the most realistic solution, stay away from people if possible....especially men....and more specifically men drinking alcohol.
it seemed as though i could handle incidental social encounters, store-clerks, etc., but intimate relations requiring trust were out of the realm of possibility.

BUT....then there was always...."MARY-JANE"....my saving grace !

at a certain point, it became crystal clear that smoking cannibis seemed the perfect solution.
alcohol always seemed to fan the flames of violence.
although i loved to drink and "feel no pain"....it seemed that booze and fighting ultimately came hand in hand.

while under the influence of pot, those dreaded sudden triggers into blinding rage did not occur.
i became mister congeniality, laid back and good-humoured....miraculously relieved of any tendency towards violent emotional explosions

soon after being introduced to marijuana, i was struck with a miraculous revelation....

"POT-HEADS DON'T FIGHT !"....especially this pothead !

i had finally found my hoped-for safe zone....hippie-dom became my calling....

"PROBLEM SOLVED !"

of course, the truth has proven to be anything but !

more to come....