Eve's JF

I have a long post in my head and at the moment I'm not sure I can put it all down in any sort of coherent order and there's a part of me yelling in the background - leave things as they are!

But...there's always a but, isn't there?

And the but is, the ones of you that I knew best, I cared for you and still care for you. I still hear my boys and your boys off somewhere in the halls of my mind fighting and loving and hurting and needing and caring and living. And though I sometimes doubt that any talent I may have had to put words on the screen and make them compelling has gone from me - that feeling of these muses living never quite fades away.

My story is simple, like so many other stories, so many other lives. Some of it, my memory refuses to hold as if the bad parts were so bad they cannot be remembered and the rest simply endured and sometimes smiled on.

The biggest and most profound was the loss of my laptop, twice. Between one moment and the next, it burned out with not so much as a good bye blue screen to tell me it was dying. I had just bought the thing and been so happy with it and the person I bought it from kept it for months claiming they were fixing it, but I had use of it for a very short time before it went kaput again never to be seen again. So I had no money and no laptop and no way to get any sort of computer. I cannot describe my sense of loss and despair from that single fact. My laptop and online was a lifeline for me, and it was gone.

There was a lot of other trauma going on in my life or what my mind identifies as trauma. Fighting with G over money which was both promised and needed for my survival. Consistent pain and constant visits to doctors and what to me seemed often to be disbelief. Chronic depression to the point that suicide didn't seem like so much of a question of do or don't, but rather when and where. I don't know what mechanism, what spark, what little flickering point of light sits on my shoulder and holds soul to flesh through those episodes. It is certainly no inward strength but an outside force.

As time passes, things change. I think I"m a little more focussed outward than inward, a little more aware of people around me and things going on. I have a few doctors I feel actually understand me or at least understand what causes me to be me in some of my darker moments. They call some of what makes me behave and think and feel as I do, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. To be blunt, I am neither the first nor the last person to have a hideous childhood and a horrid young adulthood . Nor am I the first whose life hass told on them as mine does on me in a series of kneejerk reactions that are completely outside of the conscious control of my thought processes. I often know I'm along for the ride but am powerless to stop the car. It is somehow comforting to know that  one reason years of therapy and drugs have never worked is because this particular sort of condition rarely works with that sort of therapy. There is new hope for a therapy called EMDR and I am looking into it, as the books about it speak as if it were a new kind of miracle.

I've been very physically ill, though it's difficult to see that except in the medical charts which read like those of someone much older than me or when you see all the gray in my hair. It was thought for a bit Chornic pain is a fact of my life and will be but it seems easier to bear and better dealt with than in times past. Perhaps I listen to it better than I once did. I sleep more. 

A series of fortunate events including G getting a new job and a huge raise and the few rl friends I have conniving together have brought me a new laptop for christmas. I have spent some time thinking about posting this and I hope I've given some reasonable account of myself.

I'll repost this to lj with perhaps a few addendums.

Love,

Eve




PS: Even after all this time, my friends still refer to my name of steelbutterfly here at home. They think it's a good luck name, and maybe it is.