When I first started this blog, I wanted to put black on white my personal experience refered to PTSD after Paris attacks. First, because I felt a need to leave a legacy, and second, I wanted to share my journey to Self discovery and possibly, to different ways to get better and, yes, change your life.
During two years I have been writing every day, a memoir, in case I turned into madness, or long term memory loss, or something very bad could happen to me. Well, I have felt in danger, as if I was going to die, for any reason, until today. The question of “what the hell am I doing here” is still quite present. A need for serving others, too.
It took me several years until I could face 9/11 again. Especially, after Paris attacks, and the call I personally did to my mum after 13th november that was on the same tone.
Michael Moore did his job, I am not here to judge or speculate hypothesis of any kind.
Yesterday, after watching “Origins” with Michael Pitt, I went through life stories of children who witness their previous lives memories from 3 to 9, or shall I say, death memories. One of these children spoke about remembering the way he died, falling down one of the Towers. And I’ll spare you details. Believe it or not.
Tonight I went on the You Tube and, if you want to share with me, this is one of the most incredible stories I ever heard. It’s not a movie, it’s a true story. And of course, I will omit desperate cases, or anything might not be respectful of all the victims.
Subtitles are in italian, but no worry, he speaks in american english. The message he is giving at the end of the speech is not granted. Sometimes it takes a whole life to catch it.
Do you believe in signs? Do you catch any thoughtful insights from quite irrelevant happenings in your daily life? Psychologist Jung called it “sinchronicity”. When it happens, I feel like that there is someone behind the scene. Recently, my attention has been, and still is, captured by this amazing movie, The Greatest Showman. I am not hiding, I am a new big fan of Hugh Jackman, despite I didn’t take time to watch on his Logan, just because I find it a little violent for my own criteria. I am also in love with his couple, Jack and Deborah Lee, I just can’t help. She rocks, and their story is very inspiring. This is, also, me.
Signs. A few days ago, I was sharing a cup of café crème after work, with this Italian friend who is been working in a circus, in Rome. She is very tiny, little woman, who had 4 children. Very strong. She introduced me this other Italian, just arrived, Shirly (mispelling is due to her Italian mother, whose other daughter is named Marilyn).
To be honest, I can’t tell you how much Hollywood magic still influences Italian imagination. We were born to be on stage. Even if you cook some homemade pizza, we are acting like movie stars on the screen. I knoe… it’s a natural skill. Or mythomania.
Let’s focus on this girl, she actually is an acrobat. Brown, long hair and big brown eyes. Tiny, too. Perhaps, if you are small size, it’s easier to fly. When I arrived at work, this morning, there was a group in the hall, they were all acrobats. And I felt a good vibe.
Perhaps people who jump in the air, keep on moving, and trust each other can see other people without judging, I thought. Their look was amused, but not judgemental. They were the Stars. Why acrobats are catching my attention all at once?
And then, I go to this rendez -vous with my counsellor who clears up my mind and opens my third eye chakra. By now, my actual situation -at work and life, generally speaking- is walking on a tightrope.
After burn out, priorities became regaining my emotional balance, and still working on it. At first, results came thank’s to yoga, and physical exercise, push ups, sleep & healthy diet discipline (meat is banned). It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a glass of wine, or that I am gluten free addicted. I am just mindful of what I eat and drink (what’s this coke zero?).
A whole new person is writing these lines, and I like it. But my life is still stuck. Transforming, reorganising and restructuring. If you are familiar with these terms, you knoe what I mean. Capitalist system is owned by companies who keep us as modern slaves. And it is not by chance, that the person who is my trustworthy counsellour is a black african. The way he spoke to me, today, reminded me of that great, collective father figure of Martin Luther King Jr. His straight, and reassuring look, his confident and open attitude. He holded me tight from a leap in the void.
By only his own words. This is the power of conversation, right?
I’ve recently been in an emotional distress, upsetting family news, and sudden surgery, I needed a break, and I took it right at Christmas Time. The best present for holidays that I did to my family in ten years, abroad. The best holy season since my grandparents passed away. At work, it was not easy. But I’ve followed my heart, and… no regrets.
But now, to keep balance, heart and mind have to be in coeherence with each other.
I can’t leave, I can’t abandon. I am simply not ready.
Acrobats, when launch themselves, they have been training a tons of times, again and again, they take the risk because they feel confident and safe. Or they know that the person who waits for them, to hold their hands is solid, stable and strong.
I admit, I have been talking about my health issues to a very few persons, rarely I did it with friends (why annoying them?). Choose carefully the persons that you can trust, or who will trust you. It’s not guaranteed that a friend can listen the good listening (therapeutic). They can rarely be neutral. Gosh, my best friend almost sent me to hospital when visiting me, during an anxiety attack (she was so scared).
Now, that my pair in this fight to regain my long-term job, is “black power“, well, I feel more comfortable and euphoric.
There is a time fot letting go, and a time for holding on.
“Painted and smiling, I balance on my trapeze. Luka is poised ten metres away, his muscles shining under the lights. The wooden circles in his earlobes twitch as his jaw clenches, unclenches, clenches.” Kirsty Logan
In loving memory of one of my fave war journalists ever. There are Vietnam and Cambogia reporting, but in Italian. Those of you who speak my home language, go for it, on You Tube. This is with English subtitles.
When I read about PTSD before going through my personal journey, I thought that PTSD were reserved only to war veterans or raped, child abused victims. God bless them all. Now, I can observe, « abuse », in a lifetime, can come in different ways, and shades of grey. It all depends on your level of sensibility. What is hurting me can be easily ignored by others. And, what’s worse, others won’t be able to understand your degreee of suffering, if they are not empath at all. I finally accept this. Since I’ve embraced the real fact that I am an empath and higher sensitive, in the noblest meaning. Also, I completely forgive these others. They miss awareness, and sometimes they simply don’t care. This is their misery. Not mine.
In my early twenties, I developed eating disorders and self harm disease. Depression was my company, since very young, it was more than weeping cos I wasn’t happy, and I couldn’t efford a Levi’s, financially, or couldn’t fit in. At 8 I discovered how to throw up food after eating, and it seemed to me like I got a magical power, eating junk food without putting weight on my belly. That worry didn’t last until I grew up older. I knew I wasn’t a typical cutie girl, and that was fine, that pushed me to look inside and focus on my personality. I really thought that my karmic debt was so heavy that I didn’t deserve to be the goodlooking girl which makes all men turn their head. And had to gain my beautiful body in one of next lives through hard work. Actually, not only I had a negative body image perception, but all my thoughts were tuned on negative vibes. Emotionally, I was a crap. Disfunctional family environement, of course, didn’t help and, at a certain moment, I just wanted to disappear. But slowly. A way to ask for attention and care.
Today I can recognise that I was on a strong love demand, and I can’t blame my peers not to understand how to manage my bipolar behaviour. Joyful, gay and cheerful, outside my armour, and damn upset and hating my self deeply inside. Self love is my last, wonderful achievement at age of 43.
Suicidal thoughts passed by in my twenties, like dark clouds on an empty sky. When anorexic, I have been diagnosed schizophrenic, because food&alchool abuse made me loose balance and clear mind. My mum had to watch me all the time or I could do something very harmful. Until I was hospitalized. Of course, today I see that it wasn’t my body, but my soul, the one who needed to be taken care of. But it took me 20 years to realize it, once for all.
At that time, the only way to overcome my lack of balance, by advice of my neurologist, was doing a psychodrug therapy. Recovering from drugs takes a long time and memory loss. A part of your soul flies away. Your personality, if you could build up some, at twenty, is no longer the same. Simply, you loose a big part of your Self. But in 90s there was not such a knowledge about ED like today. In a way, I feel lucky. First choice was a Center for Mental Health, and I can tell you that two of my neighbours passed by it and today they are still not well. Drugs addicted. Nobody takes care of them.
In my case, after all, time brings justice.
Being suicidal is natural when struggling is too much to bare, it makes sense to me, except that today I am a believer. Life is a game, a challenge. Indian call it « Lila ». Because I believe in karma, and reincarnation, I read once that, when you suicide, your soul is trapped between worlds. I can’t even think of being sticked in a hell of pain. This is enough for me to keep it up. But before I go on with my storytelling, I want you to know that choosing life requires courage and a bunch of energy.
So if you need more, ask for help to professionals. Not your neighbour, not your best friend or family member. We are nothing without others. Choose carefully.