Trial and error

I went out to accomplish a street art mission I have been trying for years. Every thursday the 12 I attempt to get my Jason mask out in the world somewhere. This time I opted for sidewalks, yet the bag was too small and the spray too broad only the eyes came out. The opportunity comes about once a year and so far I have yet to succeed in bombing any town with a Friday the 13th themed piece. I am still proud though for I am closer to figuring out the best method of accomplishing my task. So what if it takes years one day I will finally succeed because I won't give up.

Practicing patience and positivity.

Writing used to be my therapy yet somehow I keep forgetting to pick up a new journal. Recovery is a process. One that requires a great deal of self compassion. I have forgiven myself repeatedly for failing to make it to the gym or to put pen to paper to sketch out a piece. Our environments are also quite important for healing. My current one about as stressful as the last. It is almost time to move again, this time back to nomadic life. Each day that I don't live up to the goal but I still make progress is still worth celebrating, still worth feeling good about. Progress is process and kind of a mess. That's life. The ride that doesn't always take the expected turns. The rock we roll up the hill over and over to what seems like no avail. The struggle is real as the internet says these days. I always feel silliest foe making the same miatakes. To have a moment of joy and connection is worth the pain of its loss. To be compassionate and kind to others even if they are disrespectful and judgmental is staying true to my inner compass. I can find peace in knowing that despite any outburst of reaction I am still me and my truth will shine out and my journey will move forward. It is okay that I have not formed a steadfast calm or a firm assertiveness. Those I can develop. What is important is that I am still breathing. I am here. I choose to be here, right now, in this moment.

Turning the negative thoughts into positive ones the best I can.

I gave up on trying to heal the failed friendship with the person who triggered me quite a bit. I got a membership at a new gym even though I haven't gone a lot. I have managed to take a walk every weekend even though I don't make it very far. I listen to talks on youtube to bootstrap meditative thought on things I used to focus on before the rumination and regret took hold. I just often feel on edge. PTSD comes with a tendency to feel hyper vigilant always on alert for attack. People will do things that freak me out and won't understand why I am asking them to not do it or give me space. I just look like a crazy person or they project their own assumptions onto why I am upset which are always some stupid drama bullshit I don't participate in. It's really hard to find anyone to understand. The silver lining I keep trying to tell myself is that in crisis you find out who your real friends are. The ones who will stay with you even if you are acting like a basket case.

Trying new things

Duck is delicious. Today I treated myself to something new. Actually two things. A ginger martini and duck curry. I've had martinis and I've had curry but these combinations and this location are new. When things get tough for me the chaos of change is the only reprieve. Dying hair used to be my therapy or adding a new piercing. My job is a lot of work with how I've been feeling. Like connections are just a thing on TV. Friends don't exist it's only random conversations. Temporary interactions. As much as I ruminate on my mistakes you'd think I should follow my own advise. Yet the tension in my body, the PTSD muscle memory, doesn't get to dictate what I do or think about. I can treat myself. I work hard for it. Don't be afraid to be nice to you. It's essential for healing.

Oh baby I'm back

After months of frustration, trying to let go of recent transgressions, misunderstandings, triggers and mishandling of myself I reached a coalescence of insanity.  Feeling like I was at my breaking point I found myself trying to talk to anyone and everyone again, each time I thought how silly it was to talk to anyone who didn't really care.  It's rough when few people do. Then I decided to finally just write to the people who judged me, misunderstood me, treated me poorly and triggered me. Not in any way that they'd actually get it, but I let it all out.  All the ways they made me feel, all the misrepresentations they made about me, all the frustrations that I had tried time and time again to release.  Usually sitting by the water allows me to flow with the energy of life and leave all that happened in the past in the past, yet the cold of winter and decline of my health made it difficult to visit any body of water.  A quick plane trip to a sunny beach for a couple days almost got me there.  I was able to return to my body with that trip, relieve the disassociation that had occurred. Yet something lingered, and festered upon my return. Tied to the fear of being treated this way all the time by everyone. My journal fell apart, and has yet to be replaced for a couple months now and although I found outlet here once or twice the lack of writing was keeping me in a loop. I finally broke it.  Finally. Let it all out, said all the things, now I feel relieved, and free.   I took myself out to dinner and ate something special.  It's going to be all self care and joy from within from now on.  The goals that have carried me through these rough times are still on track, and now that I'm feeling level I can get back to the learning and research that I love so much!

Thoughts of reflection.

When it all falls apart. Where do you go from here? The saying states... The only way to go is up. I've dug lower than this before, so I know the stakes. I was going for stability and found more negativity. Lost my ability to play music when I needed it the most, first thing in the morning. Somehow I let it fall by the wayside in general. Not enough variety in the car mixes, not the songs I need to hear. My ruminations have shown me all I could have done to keep myself together, but when the straw is piled high enough to start breaking you down it can be hard to remember the option of shaking it off. Without a support system the darkness sets in. So it's time to build my own system that doesn't rely on having anyone else to catch me, to remind me to take pause and find my peace before the cycle of physical pain and anxiety creates emotional strain. Word to the wise, follow your own advise. If I think I should slowly back off the drink, don't cut it cold turkey. If I think I shouldn't send this message, put the phone down. If you think you should do the thing for your health. Do at least some small step, find whatever you need to make it happen. I had to pack up and move out of the room I rented just to be able to play music and yoga instructions in the morning. Still so weak I manage only 5 minutes but starting small is nothing to feel bad about. Now I have to take a walk to smoke marijuana, but it's worth the effort because slacking on that medicine contributed to full on neurosis. Sure there were a lot of medical issues, social issues, but music and marijuana are always there for me, I can't neglect myself by forgetting to seek them out. This blog has shifted from art to focus on healing as it's a necessary step to get back to my art. Self care is so very important. Don't forget to take care of yourself. If you're going to put someone else before you make sure they care enough to remind you to do your thing.

Volunteering for Healing

I often read that trauma recovery is a process, I think I've even reiterated it before. We struggle, we fail, we struggle, we prevail, then maybe fail again, prevail again.  The weight of many stressors and strains can lead to being overwhelmed.  It seems to take less for the anxious and traumatized, but that's nothing to be ashamed of.  As long as you find the right support.  The true friends and family that are always there to answer a text, to give you everything from deep insight to generic advice that you know but maybe just needed to hear it. After a brief stint of heavy drinking with people from the past I found myself re-traumatized, I hyper-focused on finding a solid place to stay where before I had enjoyed the nomad life, but a new full time job required stability of full time residence. The environment I moved into was toxic and exacerbated my symptoms. For a brief moment I had regret, horror and turned my focus to finding a new haven, one on my own, the solitude I've so desperately craved for so long. Right now I'm healing from the mental and emotional collapse, it's the most strange and bizarre I've had yet because it comes with a case of mold toxicity and brain fog.  Reading and writing have been a task when they used to be enjoyable activities.  My self identity of quick witted and intelligent feels challenged, so I've decided to treat myself as gently as possible.  I have begun to daydream about the things that matter most to me. To imagine the life I want to lead.  I also have pondered how to get out and meet people again as my last attempt led me down a path of returning to old people, patterns and places.  Last fall my favorite hiking trails were cut off by a widespread fire through the Columbia Gorge. So I signed up to volunteer with all the organizations teamed up for restoration at a fundraising event last fall. Recently the notifications started rolling in. Next month I'll be cleaning up the beach near the Fort my Grandfather was stationed, very excited to return to that site. I'm registered for work crews that are waiting final plans on restoration in the Gorge.  I'm starting to feel the joy of fulfillment blossom in my heart. Like spring overcoming the frost of winter. It's amazing how putting in time and effort toward something that matters can make all the difference.