All Better Now

I went and saw the Doc. We have several Docs on staff where I work and I strolled into the office of the eldest Doc and asked for a minute of his time. 1 Hr and 25 minutes later I walked out feeling a bit better. he said the things I thought he would say, PTSD, stress, stunted emotional response, to much compartmentalizing. It all made sense to me so I let him ask his questions and give me his answers. I never gave much thought to most of it before but I concede that maybe I was wrong in that so I'm trying hard to do what he said to do. What did he say to do? Oddly enough, laugh more, cry some and just lighten up. I am....serious to be polite. Intense may be more accurate. So, saying lighten up made sense, because its just not something I do. The logic seems sound. I do feel better, its like he gave me permission not to give a shit about every little detail anymore. Its kinda liberating to be honest. My beautiful wife of 28 years dropped a large bowl of chopped, and sugared strawberries, all ready for application to some very nice vanilla ice cream, right square in the middle of the kitchen floor last night. I can confirm the blast radius of strawberries is about 3 meters. What a mess. There was a time when I would have stressed about it, I would have worried about the waste of 13 dollars worth of strawberries, but last night, I laughed my ass off for a good 10 minutes. It felt great! The shadows seemed to slide further away with each passing second of just plain silly laughter. Doc is right and I am man enough to admit it. Besides I got to clean the strawberries off her legs, she's got great legs so all ends well and is well.

Time Catches Even The Fleetest of Foot

There's something wrong with me. I don't mean like cancer or something like a disease which makes people gasp and cover their mouth. I mean in my head. No, I don't want to kill puppies or anything like that but none-the-less there is something going on up there and I don't like it one bit. It took 25 years for it to catch me, 25 years of me believing I had it all comfortably tucked away behind all that junk in my mind. It was suppose to be buried behind my first bike and the time I dropped a coke bottle and cut my fingers trying to clean it up. Its a bad thing and bad things are tenacious and thorough. It took 25 years for it to surface but here it is and I don't know what to do about it. When I close my eyes I see them and I hear them and sometimes I smell them. I feel the panic like it is happening all over again and I feel the stomach churning that comes with that set of sorrows. I see their faces and I hear their screams and it rends at my very soul. Sleeping is becoming increasingly difficult because that's when it all comes back the strongest. I will awake, sweaty, winded and looking for cover and concealment. Three, sometimes four times a night. I was so smug when we came back, the others cried and yelled but not me. I was made of ice and rolled steel. Nothing could phase me, I was the perfect Scout. Look at them, I thought, they wallow in weakness, but not me, I am impervious to all this emotional nonsense. I was so foolish, and now my chickens have returned to roost. I don't know why I write this now, maybe I need to tell someone. My wife doesn't know and I wouldn't dream of telling my friends, but maybe I need to tell someone even if its a someone I will never really meet. I'm tired and I really need more rest so as to marshal the strength to but this crap back in the ground. I am Finrod, and Finrod doesn't do this stuff. Thank You for listening.