I will never be mistaken for Ghandi for several, obvious reasons. Ghandi was male, Indian, Hindu lawyer, to cite just a few things. Plus he’s dead. Since I am obviously (?) not dead at the moment the logic holds that I am not Ghandi. Probably the better title would have been: Why I’ll Never Be Mistaken for a Metaphorical Ghandi-type. Hopefully the pedantic types are now appeased and I can get on with my point, and I do have one, eventually — but you’ll have to read to find out where it is embedded, which is probably somewhere craftily hidden in paragraph 39.
By the way, people use the name Ghandi to imply a saintly person; however the key word there is “person.” Ghandi was amazing in some areas, and our world is better for him having been in it, but just like every person he had his flaws, and in fact could be a right shit about some things. (Read a biography…) That isn’t my point, either, but I thought it needed to be said. We all have flaws, even the saints, who frankly can be quite squirrelly in some ways.
Meandering closer to the proverbial point, is that I have known for many years that I have PTSD. I fairly recently learned I have this new thing called Complex-PTSD, because me being me can’t just have the run of the mill something or other. I have to be complex! Mental health care in my area is in abysmal supply for the demand, and this is well known. For various reasons I am stuck with a local clinic. They’ve known I have PTSD since I’ve been going there, in fact, it was their diagnosis of that (and clinical depression) that has me getting Social Security Disability Income (that and two “bone on bone” knees). And yet… No one there has ever seen fit to talk to me about PTSD, let alone treat me for it. All that was ever addressed was things in terms of depression. There is certainly a depression component to my PTSD, they overlap and play with each other, but the PTSD is capable of so much more destruction.
I had two long hospital stays in about a month, starting October 2020. My apartment flooded. Someone I was close to just up and left in the loveliness of the thing known as ghosting. Other minor things filled in the gaps of horrid. By the end of 2020 I was in a PTSD meltdown stage… and I didn’t know it. I didn’t recognize what was going on as being PTSD. I didn’t know to ask about PTSD.
About a month ago it came to me: Could this be PTSD???!!!! I did some online research and holy cats, yes it could be. It sure sounded like it. I ticked a lot of the boxes. What the hell? I put my foot down with my new therapist (and long story on that, she’s not really my therapist, she’s my interim therapist for an undetermined amount of time) and pretty much threw some PTSD rage at her: Why the hell has no one talked to me about this? What the hell are you going to do about it? Give me some information! And so forth. :::coughs:::
Miraculously enough, even though PTSD isn’t her area of expertise, she did come up with some information and I have been devouring the information and doing the work. Let me tell you, it is not easy work. It requires a radical amount of honesty and transparency, and worst of all, that honesty and transparency is aimed at yourself. Yikes. Nothing like having a 15x Truth Mirror aimed at the zits on your nose…
I have accomplished a fair amount in a short time. I am rather pleased with myself. If I had a box of them, I’d stick gold stars all over my forehead. What an amazing human being I am. I am well on my way to being at the pinnacle of Maslow’s pyramid. Bask in my self-actualization you peons! [ok, somewhere in there that switched to sarcasm font…]
Meanwhile, I’ve reacquainted myself with some Myers-Briggs in order that I might better understand other people and myself and enhance communication skills. I mentioned in another post that as an INTP-type I am sometimes accused of blunt speech and using sarcasm recreationally (well, duh). One of my favorite memes for INTPs is, “People say I am sometimes condescending (that means talking down to people).” Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. How do all those extroverts, and sensing and feeling and judging types have to be coddled in order for them to understand, “Please, pass the salt.”?
So, getting back to the point that I may have had in my mind at the start of this: Today I was staring at the ceiling trying to parse a few things. A few thoughts came to mind, Wow, and here I am, going to be this wonderfully evolved, calm, person who just beams warmth and kindness and understanding to all… and I frikkin never see anyone! I’m trapped in this apartment (and would be even without COVID), and so all this potential magnificence will be for naught! Screw it. I’ll just go to the Washington Post and write withering anonymous comments in their OpEd sections. Who needs to be stinkin enlightened when no one will ever notice? (I may have amped that up for your reading amusement, but the actual sentiment was felt.)
With the self-pity pump already primed, it was a quick little movement to: Why am I the only one who makes an effort to understand the other people in my life? Who is taking the time to study me? Who is taking the time to find out how best to talk to and listen to…me? So, I’m spending all this time and energy to understand and modulate my communication towards other people, and they are going to be the same, idiotic dolts they’ve always been. Yeah, that’s not frustrating!
I don’t think I’ll be anxiously checking my mailbox for my notices of receiving the Humanitarian of the Year Award.
The rotten thing is, though, as much as I can laugh at my hyperbolic thoughts, there is a grain of truth to each.
The next batch of staring at the ceiling, looking for answers will include such classics as: How can I make a balanced decision when I don’t trust either my feelings or my reasoning, and I have pretty good examples of why I shouldn’t? and Should I end this relationship because it is unhealthy or am I merely perceiving it to be unhealthy because of my warped PTSD filters? and Does this situation require kindness and understanding or is it well past that and obviously my sticking around to be “fair” is just being a glutton for punishment?
Welcome to my brain. ♥