Why me? Why me? Why? Why? WHY??? Why me, why not someone else? Why can’t I have the good healthy life? Why did I get picked for this? Didn’t I give enough already? Must I give more? How much more? WHYYYY????

For years I asked this question. It was like a huge snowball of words, rolling around in my head, every minute, every hour, day and night, a constant mantra that never relented. The darkness crawled by minute by slow minute as my brain rolled, why – why – WHY??? – why me? – whyyyyyy ???

There was never an answer, just the void of an unanswered question. The same question. Over and over. Why????

For years, there was no answer. There was only the question. I struggled with the question. I just wanted to know why. WHY?? Why was I sick? Why.

I didn’t wake up one day and have answers. Although I tried to process through this infernal borderline obsession with WHY during my short stint in therapy, those efforts didn’t get anywhere; it’s like they couldn’t get deep enough to actually address the broken record itself. It wasn’t until over 3 years had passed and I’d been unceremoniously punted out of a bad personal situation that I really cracked open enough, way deep down, to be able to apply a salve and work on healing. Read the rest of this entry

When Triggered, we MUST Keep On Keepin’ On.

I don’t say that lightly. I know how hard it is. Two hours ago I was sobbing my eyeballs out, and an hour ago I was still sure that chucking my sites and everything that I have going on (or should I say, what little I have going on) was the only viable way to move forward.

It took a little time, and it took a lot of chewing and asking questions — of myself and of God. But way deep down, I knew that no matter how upset I got, I wasn’t in charge. What happens to me, and the direction I am supposed to go, is all up to GOD, not me. I can try to engineer everything and everybody, and yet God is still the Master In Command, and He will get me where I’m supposed to be, one way or another. (Kicking and screaming, or willingly — it’s up to me!)

Even as I bawled, I had to concede (begrudgingly at first) that this situation was a matter of faith, and harder still, I had to allow my faith to go to God in search of the answer. Oh man, was that hard! … because what if I didn’t like the answer???

God nudged me through the "coincidental" appearance of an email in my inbox just then.

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The title sounds ominous, doesn’t it? The Great Downgrade. *shiver*

We’ve been taught all our lives to move up, up, UP! in life. Society measures success by accomplishment. If you’re not moving onward and upward, you’re a failure!

Pretty hard-core, eh?

And UTTERLY RIDICULOUS. As young idealistic people we idolize these measuring sticks… and we think nothing of looking down on anyone who doesn’t measure up. When we’re young, so full of vigor and life and potential, we haven’t experienced enough to have the necessary perspective to know those measuring sticks are pure bullshit. But we know what we have seen, and we believe that makes us experts, so we march right along not even realizing how utterly stupid we look. :)

I decided to make a Great Downgrade a few weeks ago.

I am an EMT. I developed PTSD as a result of a bad call in July 2006. I didn’t even have patient contact that night; I was the fire dept. photographer. It was that bad. Since then, I’ve been unable to go on medical calls.

This bothered me terribly every single freaking day since July 21, 2006, but there wasn’t a doggone thing I could do about it. I was trying to fix my head. But my head wasn’t listening to me, and there was no way in hell that I could go on calls.

I’ve loved being an EMT and wanted to be out there, doing my thing, making a difference. Helping other people is what I get out of bed for. It is my purpose. And EMS has been my calling for as long as I remember. I’ve been certified for over 17 years.

But now I couldn’t do it. I won’t go into the painful scenarios here, but bottom line, every call I did try wound up badly in my head. It was obvious I was best served staying home.

I forced my utterly broken PTSD brain through EMT recert in January 2008. One word: HELL. Ugh.

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