I was once told that I am a survivor, I consider it an insult. Merely surviving is no way to go through life.
I had a violent childhood, the unfortunate circumstance of being an immigrant who didn't know how to fit in. I prevailed by being even more violent than my tormentors, the lone wolf among foxes. Just when sunshine started to bring warmth to my life, I got cut down by PTSD. My life went downhill very quickly. I got struck with panic attacks so severe that I lost my ability to breathe. I had social anxiety that turned me into an abject loner. Loss of co-ordination, loss of concentration and the brown icing on the feces cake - perpetual depression. When I reached high school, pushed along by an indifferent system the choice was clear, drop out or die. I chose to drop out with a Grade 9 education. While my life was becoming hell, I also had to deal with the rape of my older sister. My parents, more so my father, handled the situation badly. I felt guilty that I wasn't the older brother - then the lone wolf could have hunted again.
Life after high school was rough and austere. I took risky jobs to make money, possibly to gain some self - respect. I got professional help from a compassionate social worker. From that point on I was never unemployed again. The PTSD was still there but it's severity got blunted with Mary Jane. Eventually I earned enough to pay for the completion of my education. I attained my high school equivalency, then got a Technologists Diploma sweetened with two ACAD Certificates. It didn't take me long to pay off my student loans, I've never had a problem earning. Eventually I gave up the Mary Jane, the newer strains actually sharpened the panic attacks. Gone was the euphoric effect. It was difficult at first, I acutely sensed my loneliness. However I came to realize that having a clear mind had its advantages.
My salad days had finally arrived, I finally had physical and mental health to go along with my financial expertise. Time to tackle the last mountain and chop it down with the back of my hand (Jimi quote), that long elusive life partner. My social life started to improve....and then the car accident - through no fault of my own. I got lucky, my thick upper body and lack of neck cushioned the collision, and I was driving my Forrester not my Civic. These facts kept me from becoming wheelchair bound. Being used physical pain, my injuries did not faze me. However the concussion was an entirely different beast, never in my life had I experienced physical head trauma. The symptoms were many and I was prescribed a drug that rendered me bed bound. I felt like an ant in a Goya painting, helpless in the path of The God of War.
So here I am, five years later, still recovering and attempting to make sense of my life. The only reality that is certain - survival sucks.
I had a violent childhood, the unfortunate circumstance of being an immigrant who didn't know how to fit in. I prevailed by being even more violent than my tormentors, the lone wolf among foxes. Just when sunshine started to bring warmth to my life, I got cut down by PTSD. My life went downhill very quickly. I got struck with panic attacks so severe that I lost my ability to breathe. I had social anxiety that turned me into an abject loner. Loss of co-ordination, loss of concentration and the brown icing on the feces cake - perpetual depression. When I reached high school, pushed along by an indifferent system the choice was clear, drop out or die. I chose to drop out with a Grade 9 education. While my life was becoming hell, I also had to deal with the rape of my older sister. My parents, more so my father, handled the situation badly. I felt guilty that I wasn't the older brother - then the lone wolf could have hunted again.
Life after high school was rough and austere. I took risky jobs to make money, possibly to gain some self - respect. I got professional help from a compassionate social worker. From that point on I was never unemployed again. The PTSD was still there but it's severity got blunted with Mary Jane. Eventually I earned enough to pay for the completion of my education. I attained my high school equivalency, then got a Technologists Diploma sweetened with two ACAD Certificates. It didn't take me long to pay off my student loans, I've never had a problem earning. Eventually I gave up the Mary Jane, the newer strains actually sharpened the panic attacks. Gone was the euphoric effect. It was difficult at first, I acutely sensed my loneliness. However I came to realize that having a clear mind had its advantages.
My salad days had finally arrived, I finally had physical and mental health to go along with my financial expertise. Time to tackle the last mountain and chop it down with the back of my hand (Jimi quote), that long elusive life partner. My social life started to improve....and then the car accident - through no fault of my own. I got lucky, my thick upper body and lack of neck cushioned the collision, and I was driving my Forrester not my Civic. These facts kept me from becoming wheelchair bound. Being used physical pain, my injuries did not faze me. However the concussion was an entirely different beast, never in my life had I experienced physical head trauma. The symptoms were many and I was prescribed a drug that rendered me bed bound. I felt like an ant in a Goya painting, helpless in the path of The God of War.
So here I am, five years later, still recovering and attempting to make sense of my life. The only reality that is certain - survival sucks.
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