Does trauma just "go away"?

Why would anyone think that trauma just goes away?
That it isn't there anymore?
Because the trauma is twenty-five years old?
Because the event wasn't traumatic to that person or persons?

Trauma stays with you.

It hides and when you think you are okay, it jumps out and paralyzes you. It never goes away. You can work to move on, to deal...it's always there. It's like a leech, you don't feel it sticking it's painful sucker into you because it lulls you into a false sense of security, until you look down and see a fat humongous blood-sucker stuck to you.

When you smell a certain smell it takes you back to that moment. It's shameful. It's painful. It's demeaning. When you hear a certain sound it takes you there. Faster than you can believe. You thought you had gotten past this? Well think again. In the night when things are quiet and all you hear are your own thoughts bleeding through your mind...those are the worst times. Would it be different if it happened today? Could something have changed it to make it better?

Did people offer comfort when the trauma was discovered? Did they say that it was all going to be okay? Did they ever say that it WASN'T YOUR FAULT? Did they rock you and hold you and stroke your hair and tell you that nobody deserves trauma like that? Did they slay the monsters in the closet and under the bed for you? Did they stand up for you and cry out for you and savage the world with their cries of outrage?

Did they call you a liar? Did they tell you that it couldn't possibly have been as bad as you think? Maybe they just refused to acknowledge that you had spoken the words out loud at all? Did they tell you some trite platitude that when you hear it today it evokes rage and anger and frustration and disbelief and it's own brand of trauma?

No amount of therapy can help because it lies in wait. It ebbs and flows. It is a living, breathing, feeding thing that you can't get rid of no matter how hard you try.

What happens to you?
What does it do? Does it break you? Does it make you weak? Does it make you bleed?

Not if you don't let it.

It makes you strong. It makes you resilient. It makes you stone. It makes you loud, obnoxious, blunt. Honest.

It makes you a survivor.

No, in answer to the question, trauma never goes away.
Life happens anyway and you deal and move through it in the best way you know how. Hopefully with grace and dignity and poise. More often with grit and determination.

Maya Angelou says, "When you know better, you do better."

That's all I know how to do.
I won't pretend anymore. I won't lie to myself or others. Nobody can make me do that anymore. I am not nine. I am an adult with responsibilities and a life that needs living.

I was traumatized. I will always be traumatized. Some days are good, some aren't.
I survived.
I am still healing, twenty-five years later.
It still hurts.
It still shames.

The trauma is still there and will be until the day I die.
BUT
I breathe and live and love and move forward, because I know better, so I do better.

You made the pants too long...

Sam.

Trousers drag on, slowly drag on through the street
Yes, I’m walking, but I’m walking without feet
I’m not finding fault at all
With what’s too big and what’s too small
But Sam, Sam, you promised me both ends would meet
You made the coat and vest fit the best
You made the lining nice and strong
But sam, you made the pants too long
You made the tip lapel look so swell
Who am I to say that you’re wrong?
But sam, you made the pants too long
They got the belt, and they got suspenders
So what can they lose?
But what good are belts, what good suspenders
When the pants are hanging over the shoes?
You feel the winter breeze up and down the knees
The belt is where the tie belongs
’cause Sam, Sam, Sam
You made the pants too long
You know what I mean, Sam?
Song by Barbra Streisand

How can you miss someone so much that was in your life for such a short time?
Swiss cheese and onions on long macaroni.
"and all the pretty girls!"
that funny little lisp until you were almost 13...
Remember when the bird got stuck in the string and the string got stuck in the air conditioner?
I can still hear you saying that.
"burd in da sting in da airconssssioner"
He always asked me if I was wearing Vanilla Fields because that was the perfume his "then" girlfriend wore, and he asked me everytime afterward because it is what I wore.
That crooked grin when he was lying or telling the truth or trying to get into or out of trouble.
There are too many memories and not enough.

I miss you, Sam.
I hope you are at peace.
I hope it's summerland.

Love,
Kimmy

Caetie

She's tough. She's got her own style. If you disrespect her, she will call you on it and make sure you know how it makes her feel.

She's girlie. She likes ribbons and lacy things and pretty pink and blue and purple things. She likes making "Gecko Lickies"...those pony bead lizards? They are cute.

Then I turn around and she is in Mike or J or her father's face about SOMETHING, anything. Stands her ground.

She knows how she wants to be treated and damned if you don't want to treat her that way.
It's taken me 34 years to figure out how I want and need to be treated and I am still not as eloquent as her.

She's a pixie in combat boots.

She's a tweener--BIG TIME! She loves "hanging out". Loves music, making it and listening to it.

It amazes me how beautiful and strong and smart she is. She came from me. I didn't know I had such perfection inside me.

She makes me laugh. She makes me cry. She freaks me out. She laughs at me. She's silly and happy and emotional and hormonal and girlie and rock hard tomboy. She likes to play and make and create and dream.

She's going to be a horror movie writer/director. She's going to make me a star in them. I get to fall in a hole. I am saving space on my "mantle" for her awards.

She's loud and beautiful. She's obnoxious and knows it. She's outspoken and not afraid to back it up.

She's eleven. I can't wait to see what twelve brings.

Insurance Companies

Insurance companies are so weird.

I have some pain issues that make it difficult for me to fall asleep. I was sleeping maybe two hours a night and taking care of six children and a house during the day.

It sucks when someone tells you that you had a conversation with them and you seriously cannot remember a word of it and it was TWO days ago!

My doctor gave me some Vicodin. I am sure you are all aware of the issues with prescribing pain medications. There are so many people abusing the system, that when an actual case comes up it's hard to tell the difference.

Well, I can't take Vicodin. It has tylenol in it and I am allergic. Okay, percodan is the only drug of this order that doesn't contain tylenol. I get a prescription. It helps a little. Still can't sleep.

Okay, let's try a prescription for Ambien. It is a sleeping pill and it will help you fall and stay asleep.

WOW DOES THAT STUFF WORK! Eight hours straight, no waking and holy cow I don't feel drugged the next day.

Well, the insurance company will only "allow" you to have 10 pills in 30 days. They say it's because Ambien is "highly" addictive.

Huh?

You just gave me a precription for PERCODAN! OXYCODONE! Hello, read any papers lately? Epidemic that is crashing throughout small towns, big towns, suburbs, male, female, young, old, all walks of life are abusing this drug. HIGHLY addictive and easily attained. People aren't taking one extra tablet of this they are taking 40-50 pills a day!

So, I can have as many highly addictive narcotics as I want, but I have to choose which ten days I get to sleep.

How messed up is that?

Army

The army came into my life when I was 25.

That was the year my son turned five and told me that he was going to be a soldier.
That hasn't changed and he's thirteen now.

Then it meant dreams, hopes, future plans.
Now it means reality, fears, future plans.

This is only four years and three months away from happening. Will we be out of the Middle East by then? Will he be in danger? Will I lose my son to war or terrorists or something even now unimaginable?

How proud will I be when he finishes Basic Training? How proud will I be to tell people that my son is in the Army? How proud will I be seeing him in dress uniform? More so than now? Is it possible to be more proud of someone?

How will it change him? How will it make him more than he is now? How will it change me?

I worry. Yet, if he told me he was going to college and becoming a veteranian or a firefighter or a police officer or a teacher or a doctor, I think I would worry just the same.

I never thought the day would come when I would actually have to contemplate him leaving. Four years and three months is so far away, yet it's tomorrow.

Well. All I can do is prepare him for the mother of all mothers, if he thinks that I'm tough...
Maybe I should send him to the "devil twins" boot camp, maybe that will prepare him.

I hope that these concerns and issues resolve themselves in the next 51 months and that I can be supportive and strong.

I hope that the Army knows what they are getting.

I hope that it's everything he wants and more.

I hope...