Showing posts with label PTSD flashbacks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PTSD flashbacks. Show all posts

Monday, 17 June 2019

When Seeking Healing (June 11, 2019)

Behind this veil
My darkness hides.

Rather forget
When hatred/fear ruled
With an iron fist.

Nights filled
Tortured visions
Of another life
Haunting me.

An abused prisoner
Cowering
Inside a cell
Awaiting Fate.

Praying to Kali
Seeking release
From living nightmares
Permanently.

For inner freedom
So long denied
I've forgotten
What it feels like.

Therisa © 2019

Wednesday, 28 November 2018

Summer Of '85: A Season In Hell (August 25, 2012)

Warning: This Poem Contains Abusive Violent Triggers. Read at your own risk.

You raped my soul
Caring not
About the carnage
Left behind you.


As your blows
Rained down
Upon me.


Using whatever
At hand.


Whether
It’s physical
Or verbal jabs.


Even now
Decades later
Am haunted
In my dreams.


Visions of booted foot kicking
Or kitchen chair used
As a club
Upon my body.


Laying
In fetal position.


Never mind
Those times
Your hands pushed me
Down stairs.


Filling my mind's eye
With terror
Reliving my fifteenth summer.


You walked away
As I punish myself.


Not strong enough
To stop you
Baby brother
And protect mom.


May you rot
Worse spot
Than I’ve live in.


Therisa © 2012

Author’s note: Except for clean up of form, nothing has changed in this poem. Am having trouble
reading this,without being triggered, again.

Wednesday, 15 August 2018

Long Weekend (August 9, 2018)

Are these
From depressed soul
Self-pitying words
Appearing before you?

Need/want
For physical release
Gets stronger
Each waking hour
Waterfall of tears.

Growing presence
Soulful miasma
Slowly creeps forward
Soulscape edges.

Cautiously
Testing boundaries
Hint of weakness
Exploiting-gleeful eagerness.

Opening up
Like cancerous growth
Metastasizing soulscape.

Released Hellhounds
Nipping expose tendons
Toxic auditory flashbacks
Mental soundtrack.

Reliving memories
Best deleted
Without thought.

Hell on Earth.

World reduced
To my apartment
Invisible prison walls
Contain me.

Knowing
It's only starting
Before storm’s eye
Is reached.

Whether
Days or weeks away
Crisis climax
Darkest moment
Of depressive episode.

Literally
Life or death
Shall I fall
From grace.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Since the August Civic long weekend (August 5-7), I have felt myself, mentally declining. Leaving my apartment, when I am forced to. Am hoping this isn't the start of my latest bout of depression.

Wednesday, 8 August 2018

August Heartbreak (August 6, 2018)

Silent tears stream
Down my face
Past injustices and traumas
Haunting.

Virtual loop
Reinforce each memory
Played.

Feeling small
And helpless.

Releasing one triggers
After another.

Brain shutdown
Retreating inwards
Welcoming unconsciousness.

Awaken
Leaden body
If ran ultra marathon.

Arms trembling
Summertime leaves
In strong wind.

Tightly grip pillow
Anchoring
“Here and now”.

Emotional maelstrom
Crossing spectrum
From rage to sadness.

Want sleep
Everything drained
Existence
Bare minimum.

Life-on hold
Two more days
Full reboot.

Why now
Don't know.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: The Civil Holiday long weekend (first Monday in August), is over and I found myself, struggling with flashbacks, depression and anxiety. This is my way of dealing with it.

Friday, 21 July 2017

A Night Like This (October 11, 2011)

Still
Hear your voice
Calling me
"Fucking useless
Piece of shit."

As
Your blows
Rain down
Upon my body.

Although
Thirty-one years
Have past.

As similar dreams
Haunt my troubled soul
With their corrosive
Memory.

Since
The final remnants
Of my mental walls
Collapsed
In August 2007.

Plaguing my existence
Since.

Therisa © 2011

Author's note: Another poem from my poetic morgue.

Wednesday, 18 May 2016

Not A Victimless Crime (May 18, 2016)

Bullying
A word
That's forever etched
In my mind.

For
I don't need anyone
To tell me
What it means
To be bullied.

As I struggle
With my recovery
After decades
Of bullying.

From chronic depression
Various anxiety disorders
Suicidal thoughts
Agoraphobia
And PTSD.

Which
Is worsen
By being trans.

In doubling
My odds
Over the general population.

For suffering
Depression anxiety
Compulsive behaviour
(like self-harming)
And PTSD.

Would give anything
To never have experience
Night terrors
Or PTSD flashbacks
In my sleep.

As I'm plagued
By chronic insomnia
To the point.

A good night is
Having five hours
Of  uninterrupted
Sleep.

Welcome
To my world.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Whether, or not, people realize this, but bullying (A form of abuse) is, a crime of power, which won't go away, as long as, there two or more people, in a given locale . The best, we can hope, is to limit the damage that's done, to the victims, by the aggressor.

Friday, 11 March 2016

What Is Normal Like? (March 11, 2016)

Often
I find myself
Asking this question
Without a ready answer
To it.

Never gave it
A second thought
About the toxic relationship
Between my brother and I.

Even though
My grandma did remark
She has never seen
Two siblings go at it
So furiously.

Or
How different things were
From my many cousins
In comparison
To my situation.

Until
I entered
 A Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) program
At a nearby hospital
About four years ago.

Where
The therapist told me
It's not unusual
For a family
To be dysfunctional.
 Gee
Thanks.

As if
My childhood years
Weren't brutal
Enough.

Even now
Thirty-five years later
I can still hear him
And his friend
Calling me:

" A f--king
Cocksucker"

Or
"A f--king fairy"
Who needed
To be taught
Her proper place.

As they pounded
The living daylights
Out of my body.

While
Laughing.

Welcome
To my grade 5 year.

Wish
I could say
My previous school years
Were less violent
(Physically
And verbally).

Sadly
No.

This would continue
Until I transferred
To another high school
At the end
Of grade 10.

Leaving
This abusive environment
Behind me.

But
The memories
Still haunt me.

So
I ask you.

What does it
Feel like
To live
A normal life?

Without constant echoes
Of destructive voices
Or PTSD flashbacks
To haunt
Every moment
Of ones life.

If possible
For just one minute
I would love
To experience this moment
In my live.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: There times, which I find myself, cursing my long term memory, for its ability to hold past events, in my live, as if, they have happened, just yesterday. While, my short memory has more holes, in it, than an unpasteurized piece of Swiss cheese. There is more, that I could have detailed, here, but, even a masochist, would be crying, begging, for no more. Sigh, am so tired of this weird roller coaster, which we call life. Can I, finally, be able,to get off, please?

Thursday, 10 March 2016

Monday 2:17 (March 7, 2016)

Another night
Of broken sleep
And half formed poems
Fill my consciousness.

Silently
My body's protests
Are ignored
Once more.

As
The perpetual motion engine
My brain
Won't shut down.

Blink of the eye
My mind has leaped
From the past
To the present
And back
Again.

Without
Any temporal interruption
To my thought patterns.

As if
The very concept
Of a time continuity
Is meaningless.

With the blurring
Of time
Between night/day
Past/Present
And sleep/consciousness.

Know
This must stop
For the sake
Of my health
And sanity.

But
I feel
So powerless
To stop it.

Short of
A complete system
Failure.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For those, who are wondering, there is no religious significant to the title, beyond, I wrote it, on a Monday, and started it, at 2:17 am.

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Word-blind (February 10, 2016)

www.forums.psychcentral.com





Wish
I could describe
The emotional impact
Of my words
Upon all levels
Of myself.

As I write
About my abusive past.

But
I can't.

Placing myself
Behind a one way wall
Of disassociation
That blocks my response.

Thus
Allowing
My subconscious self
To express
Those repressed memories
From my childhood.

Without triggering
Those destructive flashbacks
That leave me
Physically and emotionally spent
Like a dead battery
For several days.

Barely
Able to move
From the bed
To take my meds
Go to the bathroom.

Or
Look after
Venus Star
And Squeak.

My faithful feline
Companions.

Will the day come
When I can feel
The emotional impact
Of my words
Without needing others
To tell me
So?

Or being
So strongly triggered
By these remembrances.

Wish
I knew.

Giving myself
A mental shrug
Of shoulders.

As
I wipe away
The tears
From my eyes.


Therisa © 2016




Author's note: Wish, I could say, my experience with disassociating, is limited, to writing, but it's not. My earliest remembered episode, occurred, during the summer of 1985, when I felt my "spirit" separate from my body, as I watched my brother, try to land upon me, after being pushed down the upstairs.


Must admit, the most embarrassing episode happened, while, shopping at a local supermarket. I couldn't remember, why I was, in a particular aisle, as I wandered aimlessly, for several minutes, as my anxiety, started to reach panic attack levels, before I clued in.

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