My thoughts right now

Ok so it’s 1:03pm on July 20th 2017.

My world is spinning as I process the fact that Chester Bennington from Linkin Park took his own life……so many people, including me, have been able to get through hell because of Linkin Park.

Let’s take a look at Linkin Park’s newest song:

Heavy

I don’t like my mind right now
Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary
Wish that I could slow things down
I wanna let go but there’s comfort in the panic
And I drive myself crazy
Thinking everything’s about me
Yeah, I drive myself crazy
‘Cause I can’t escape the gravity

I’m holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down
If I just let go, I’d be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?

(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)

You say that I’m paranoid
But I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me
It’s not like I made the choice
To let my mind stay so fucking messy
I know I’m not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning ’round me just the same
I know I’m not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning ’round me just the same

I’m holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down
If I just let go, I’d be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?

(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)
(Holding, holding)

Holding on (Holding, holding)
Holding on (Holding, holding)

I know I’m not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning ’round me just the same
I know I’m not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning ’round me just the same
And I drive myself crazy
Thinking everything’s about me

Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down
If I just let go, I’d be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Why is everything so heavy?

Things were too heavy for Chester & he was unable to let go of what was plaguing his mind.

I know this is going to trigger a lot of people but we need to be strong. You are not alone in what you are feeling. I ask that you please reach out to someone, anyone, if you are feeling suicidal or just need to talk to someone. Across North America you can call 1-800-273-8255

Please be safe as you morn the loss, alcohol & drugs will only temporarily take away the pain. I know many feel like counseling is a sign of weakness but it’s the opposite. It takes great strength to face your problems/past head on & learn how to cope with it all.

 

My Thoughts

For some people, when think they of PTSD think they of people who have been to war. PTSD is now more than just shell shock, it can be for people who have suffered all sorts of different traumas like miscarriage, rape, car crash, assault, etc.

When I was younger, I thought PTSD was just shell shock but as I got older I started to learn that it can encompass a lot more.

In class, this one doctor was talking about how most of her patients have been suffering with PTSD for 10yrs+ without any help or treatment. I can’t imagine having to suffer that long with PTSD & not having any help. I understand why it happens though, society has told us it’s a weakness & that we aren’t supposed to talk about our emotions, especially the negative ones.

I believe that going to counseling doesn’t mean that you are weak, it actually means you are strong. It means that you want to address what is wrong & overcome it.

I also believe that everyone should go to counseling, it should be the norm. Starting when we are kids, we should see a counselor several times throughout our lives. We change as we grow & because we aren’t taught to properly handle our emotions, we need help navigating these changes.

PTSD poem

A poem about the loss of a child from our PTSD week.

 

On the Death of my First and Dearest Child, Hector Philips, born the 23rd of April, and died the 2nd of May 1655

Twice forty months in wedlock I did stay,
Then had my vows crowned with a lovely boy.
And yet in forty days he dropped away;
O swift vicissitude of human joy!

I did but see him, and he disappeared,
I did but touch the rosebud, and it fell;
A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared,
So ill can mortals their afflictions spell.

And now (sweet babe) what can my trembling heart
Suggest to right my doleful fate or thee?
Tears are my muse, and sorrow all my art,
So piercing groans must be thy elegy.

Thus whilst no eye is witness of my moan,
I grieve thy loss (ah, boy too dear to live!)
And let the unconcerned world alone,
Who neither will, nor can refreshment give.

An offering too for thy sad tomb I have,
Too just a tribute to thy early hearse;
Receive these gasping numbers to thy grave,
The last of thy unhappy mother’s verse.

Katherine Philips (1632 – 1664)

 

Dulce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
By: Wilfred Owen: The War Poems, ed. John Stallworthy, (Chatto & Windus, 1994)