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It's unbearably hot here, has been for a couple days. The heat has sapped all of my energy. I haven't been doing anything but taking cold showers, smoking, watching The West Wing and knitting B's sock.
The episode of The West Wing that I'm currently on is called Noel and it deals with Josh's post-traumatic stress disorder after being shot. It's hitting a little close to home. On the shallow side, I have a crush on Bradley Whitford, who plays Josh on TWW. On the deep end, four people in my family, including myself, are dealing with PTSD.
My family should buy lottery tickets. Between the four of us, we've had two rapes, three gunshot wounds, a kidnapping, four abusive relationships. One has been struck by lightning. None of us has ever received proper treatment for PTSD, one of us hasn't even ever been officially diagnosed although the symptoms speak for themselves.
My mom is finally getting help. She's in weekly therapy, doing EMDR and is on medication. The problem is that while the rest of us are dealing with residual PTSD from scenarios that are over and done with, she's dealing with her personal shit on a day-to-day basis. It bothers me deeply to see her crying.
My coping mechanisms right now consist of getting deeply involved with the TV I'm watching and smoking weed nearly every night. I've started forcing myself to play the guitar again. Haven't really written any songs lately, and the instrument feels foreign and heavy in my arms, but according to B's tarot deck, giving up my creative pursuits was a mistake. I've started drawing too. I'm doing everything I can to keep sane in this fucked up situation.
I want us all to go to Canada and participate in that study of MDMA's effects on PTSD. I want to heal the gashes in my family. I want to run away. I never want to leave. I listen to my old songs and I have no idea what sort of headspace I was in to actually be able to sing my pain. This is the hardest shit I've ever been through in my life and I have no idea how to deal.