PTSD

After suffering several brain injuries. It changed me fundamentally and I am left with PTSD and mental health. My actions have been devastating and traumatic for my family.

As I lay there on the couch just after the midnight hour
My fists balled with anger
I wept tears of mental health

My wife in our bedroom
A bedroom filled with an energy of conflict I could no longer bare.
It wasn’t her.
She feels it is.
And I am confident she is crying as a victim in despair.

The problem is from the friction of a trauma I created the night before

It was the beating walls of two hearts trying to protect themselves from pain.
The pain of knowing it will happen again
The pain of knowing the pain I am causing.
Im in anguish.
With a self sense of disapproval. The fear. The anxiety. Never knowing when my mouth will spout toxic words in a defense to an attack that isn’t real. In a moment never suspected.

My Trigger of an action
Springs back the reaction to a trauma my wife or son did not inflict.

My eyes well with tormented tears because to stay with me means to be emotionally abused. My love is unconditional but I disassociate in ways I fear will hurt them further.

I
Cant
Handle
It

The stress, the lack of reciprocity when I give them my last drop of sweat. My last joule, the energy has dissipated and the shine of who I was has become tarnished into Copper pennies even vinegar can’t clean. The intentional sacrifice I make to provide goes unseen. Hidden underneath. The filter changed and its only pain they see. Pain caused by me.

Its validation the wounded seek

Not in terms of me, but with every respect to the reality of, WE

As I cry tears.
Afraid know matter how much space I create,
Know matter how often I try to listen,
Or how often my compliments fall dismissive.
That I will always be forced to articulate with precision a message clearly written to be understood from a distance or else I remain the villain of a crime not black and white but with the complexities of problematic hues
When the truth is
There is a much simpler solution...

To listen.

With compassion
To validate feelings unfelt and to acknowledge their existence

To draw boundaries around the conversation
By understanding our heartfelt expressions are sent with pure intention to communicate through love a desire of true connection.

Yet, there I am as I lay there on the couch
Torn and fragmented with scattered memories in new dimensions
Incapable of remembering with certainty the words that were said only what I feel from the exchange of energy. Maya Angelou said it best.
So I hug myself
Scared
Alone
Misunderstood
Crying tears of mental health

Author's Note

I hope this provide insight to a mind of someone tormented with PTSD and other forms of mental health.

Reviews

[DaniElle LaPointe]

Vulnerability and pain. Mental health is so important in traumatic brain injury.