Authors note; This Scribble includes references to content that I do not make public.
"Memoires of Madness, PTSD and Me", is a work I am currently putting together as well as a group of short stories that are all based on dreams/nightmares that I wrote down at the time I had them.
Sometimes I truly do hate this mind that I have.
It never rests, which of course means that I never really rest.
We humans as a rule enjoy whimsical, frightening, or confusing combinations of our day's events, all jumbled together by our subconscious into what amounts to a physiological/psychological "Pressure Valve".
This theory is backed up by many studies in both psychology and neurology, it has been observed in real time brain scans and EEG graphing.
I myself was involved in a study/assignment examining the correlation between those who do not dream and sociopathic/psychotic tendencies.
We determined that there is one.
It is a theory I agree with based on my own experience as well as my being a Jungian in my philosophy.
Jung saw great value in studying people's dreams, I will post some links below as I usually do. Pretty fascinating stuff if you are inclined to further your understanding of yourself.
Anyway, I used to have those kinds of dreams when I was younger, I also dream in vivid color and can remember a great deal about my dreams when I awaken.
Granted I spent years writing down my dreams every morning, so it was a habit of mine for a long time as I was in my own self-discovery stage of my life.
I have not done that in a long time though because I started that when I came back from working south of the border.
My mind was a very different animal, feral, vicious, hard, calculating and cold as stone.
That is why I turned north instead of heading west back to Texas and family.
I needed to get right in my head before I went back there, and as it turns out, I didn't wait long enough but that is another memory.
Every dream I had at that point in my life was a nightmare. It sickened me the darkness and venom that could pour out of my mind as I slept, when I could sleep.
The side of humanity I witnessed down there scarred my mind, no, it scarred my very soul forever and that is all I could dream about; all I could think about.
I do not know how many times I pushed that bike up to dangerous speeds while in my cocaine or meth fueled mind was a looping little whisper saying over and over again, "just let go, it will be over so fast..."
All I wanted to do was to escape the nightmares, I was tired, so, so, very tired, I wanted to sleep even if that sleep was permanent.
You have to remember that "PTSD" or back then called "shell shock" for one example was just starting to be seriously studied and it was years before it became widely accepted as a valid mental disorder.
But obviously I held it all together through my belief in God and conviction that suicide is a sin, plus the simple fact that I am Irish, we don't ever give up on anything.
Quite often to our own detriment I might add.
Eventually throughout my process of taking control over my mind back, my dreams became less and less violent and terrifying because I was replacing that intolerable feeling of constant fear with knowledge, I understood it, where it comes from, what its purpose is.
Once we truly understand something we by default begin to figure out how to control it and if possible, use it to our advantage.
I wish I could say that I made PTSD my bitch but that would be not only a lie but a grave mistake on my part if I ever came to believe that because that is my ego talking, my greatest enemy.
It is to this day a constant battle to keep the anxiety and depression at bay. It claws at my mind like a pack of rats trying to claw their way out of a burning room.
When they start clawing, I feel that rush of cold hopelessness, doom, spread through my chest and settle in my mind but where it used to take control, I learned how to funnel its energy into something useful.
PTSD, for me, is a very intense experience and intensity is a form of energy that can be redirected in its purpose.
Like spending hours out of the day researching, especially back when I did it at the library with actual books, takes a lot out of you, it is tedious, repetitive, and 90% of the time boring as hell.
I decided to funnel that negative intensity (energy) locked away in its own little room into my conscious mind which manifested itself in some unexpected ways to put it mildly.
It did not take me long to realize that I had created a monster, or to understand that this was a monster I had to learn to live with.
My (shadow self) and my (conscious self) managed to fuse into one and there was no separating them again.
It took some getting used to for a while because almost everything changed at once as far as my dreams go.
I very rarely ever have nightmares anymore. But that in no way means that my dreams are whimsical by any stretch of the imagination.
My shadow self 'Ghost" controls my dreams now and they are intensely vivid and not unenjoyable except for one thing.
Every dream I have and have had for over the last two decades since my "fusion" are all focused on the same thing, solving problems.
My subconscious mind creates millions of very cool scenarios for me to experience but in every single one of them I am solving some kind of problem.
I am not exaggerating a bit when I say that I have solved real life problems in my dreams, it happens all of the time.
Now, I have been asked this before about PTSD and unfortunately it is an answer I cannot give,
How did I do it.
I honestly do not know man, if I did, I would tell everyone about it, scream it from the roof tops because speaking only for myself it saved my life.
I will say this though, since I cannot explain how I did it, it stands to reason that process has much, much more to do with God than it ever had to do with me.
If it had been all me, I would be able to lay out the entire process because my mind would not give me a choice in the matter.
When I walked out of that South Dakota prison in 2000 I was a different man and the main thing that I believe God brought into my life, the primary reason I was able to stay the course was a woman named Terri, my wife, and soon after our daughter Abigail.
They gave me the one thing I needed the most to complete my process, a reason to live.
What they say is true, God works in mysterious ways, if we let him.
Something to think about, till next time.
Understanding the enemy is the first step in defeating them.
A little more.
The only thing that keeps us where we are is ourselves. ~Ghost