Talking to myself . . .

[Dave]

I wonder if I have PTSD. I hear that people who went to war want to go back because they miss it. I looked at some old things I wrote in high school and I can tell the themes were I missed living in the hood. And I remember my level of physical fitness was much higher and I was more motivated to be successful. I had more control over my life and my impulses. I was no wussy and more people seemed to like me.

Doesn't sound like PTSD to me, Arturo. In my understanding PTSD sufferers have "trigger" situations - that may not seem directly linked to the original trauma.

Let's say that for a  victim of child abuse at an early age, when it is not uncommon that the victim has no conscious memory of the actual abuse itself- the act(s) - a deep sense of guilt or embarrassment linked to those events may manifest itself at any point in the victim's life, repeatefly, triggered by a later even mildly embarrasing event that another would simply shrug off and everyone else involved soon forgets.  To another that behaviour might seem inappropriate, excessive or just "weird", especially if verbal ejaculations are invoked.

Thus the person who hides in a corner or crouches in apparent fear on, say, bring told their fly is open may be reacting to a "forgotten" memory from maybe decades in the past. Not a good example but there is often a severe disconnect between stimulus and reaction to the objective observer. To a soldier it may well be caysed by (old joke for some) a car backfiring, someone shouting in their face . . .

The sirt if past we like to remember is often tinged a trifle rose coloured. I disliked many aspects of my RAF service but very much miss the camaraderie, the sense of teamwork, the common purpose, the knowledge that some one "has your six" and you have that of the guy in front (tail end Charlie has to be doubly vigilant!)

PTSD attacks are usually sudden and unpleasant, can happen a hundred times a day and then disappear for weeks if enough "now" events occupy the mind and emotions in a positive way.

[Arturo]

My counselor has talked to me about transference a cpuple times to tell me to look for it in myself but I haven't been able to find what might have been transferred.

[Dave]

My counselor has talked to me about transference a cpuple times to tell me to look for it in myself but I haven't been able to find what might have been transferred.

Interesting, always thought "transference" referred to a client attemoting to establish a " child-parent" with the therapist, in the worse case with the client "transferring" the  image of a real parent onto the perceived attitude of the therapist.

IIRC there used to be a sort of tberapy that encouraged  transferrence, a "combatative" method where the client was encouraged to vent their repressed anger, verbally, on the therapist. A sort of "abreaction" method but dangerous for both. Then there was "primal scream" therapy, that encourage  unrestrained verbal release; screaming, swearing, crying, whatever - catharsis of a kind for some.

Many variations over the last hundred years or more but few of them seem to do the trick for large numbers and fade into the background.

[Arturo]

I've heard of those. I always doubted their potential. I think the root problem for some is that they have it too easy and don't know how to handle it. Having to choose between ice cream or chocolate cake and you can only have one makes people upset.

[Dave]

I've heard of those. I always doubted their potential. I think the root problem for some is that they have it too easy and don't know how to handle it. Having to choose between ice cream or chocolate cake and you can only have one makes people upset.

Unfair analogy I feel, Arturo. We are all unique and there may be a therapy that works better for the individual than others. You are quite lucky to find the right one first time, and very lucky if you get the chance to try more than one. Few get any choice at all.

[Arturo]

I've heard of those. I always doubted their potential. I think the root problem for some is that they have it too easy and don't know how to handle it. Having to choose between ice cream or chocolate cake and you can only have one makes people upset.

Unfair analogy I feel, Arturo. We are all unique and there may be a therapy that works better for the individual than others. You are quite lucky to find the right one first time, and very lucky if you get the chance to try more than one. Few get any choice at all.

Again I have no counter argument to your response Gloucester. You win again old bean.

[Arturo]

Can a mod change my title to "Do Something Crazy!"

[Tank]

Can a mod change my title to "Do Something Crazy!"

Done.

[Arturo]

Can a mod change my title to "Do Something Crazy!"

Done.

[Arturo]

I must not be allowed to have frienda because when ever they start dating the guy always tries to pick fights with me and then they both act like I'm jealous.
I think they must be insecure because they know their girl is easily manipulated and that they liked me at one point so they have to fight me to prove they're secure with themselves.

[Biggus Dickus]

The weather was decent yesterday when I got off of work so I took my bike out for a ride, put in maybe 28-30 miles, and on my way home I took a detour through the neighborhood I grew up in, and ended up taking a break at the park.

So I pulled my bike to a stop atop the hill were as a child my sisters and I went sledding with my dad, right over there was the small parking lot now closed where he would park his car, and where we would drink hot chocolate and eat cream-wafers that our mom prepared for us after we finished sledding.

I leaned my bike against a very old tree, one that my friends and I used to climb on, sometimes we would sit on the branches talking or simply hang from our legs,... my friend Mark kissed his first girl in this tree.

Both the hill and tree look so small now, of course the hill has eroded some with time. Off to the side there was a small ridge that ran down to the side, and when I was older my friends and I would race our bikes down from the hill top and jump our bikes off the ridge.

Due to the fact that this hill was formed  during the last ice age the hill is entirely made of sand, so where we landed our bikes was a large, soft spot. We would have contests to see who could jump their bikes the farthest.
One time as I jumped I watched in terror and disbelief as my front tire detached itself from my bike and flew away from me...I could see in my mind what would happen as I landed, first the rear tire would connect with the ground, and then my front forks would dig into the soft sand, and I would come crashing down onto my handlebars and smash head first into the bike frame and ground. So I simply let go of the bike and watched it slowly sail away from me as I prepared myself for impact as I was probably a good 3-4 feet up in the air. Strangely enough I didn't get hurt at all as I landed squarely on my butt in the sand, and my bike, the "Blue Presidential" as it flew on it's own easily cleared the previously held record for the farthest jump by quite a few feet.

On that day I was a hero, with my friends commenting that my jump and fall was the absolute coolest thing they ever saw. Of course someone suggested that maybe the jump shouldn't count as I wasn't actually on it when I landed, but they were quickly overruled.

As I stood there as these thoughts and memories came washing over me, I tried to determine where the time had gone...and I wanted to go back and do it all over again, but there is nothing there now. Just old memories that have passed along with the people I knew and loved, and who are now forever gone from my life.

I tried to imagine myself young again on this hill or up in the tree, and if possible imaging an older me standing someday on this very spot contemplating all that was and ever shall be, but it's fruitless I guess.

So the only thing I could think of doing was aligning my bike up on the hill as we once did as kids, drawing in a deep breath and charging down the hill toward the short end of the ridge with as much speed as possible.

Front wheel stayed on this time as I soared into the air, and I have no idea if the distance of my jump that day came close to beating any of our childhood records, but as I pulled myself up from the sand and checked my bike for damage I felt like I had turned the clock back a bit, even if for a brief moment and I swore I could almost hear the boys up on the hill cheering and laughing at me.

I did look around quickly and somewhat emberrasingly to see if anyone saw my jump and crash, but I was for the time alone. Alone in a patch of sand, on an old hill formed eons ago, a man in his early 50's with graying temples and a sad desire to relive the past.

I marked the spot where I landed, just like we did in the old days by planting a stick in the ground. Hopefully it will still be there this weekend, because I know I can beat that record damn't and I'll be back.

[Ali]

Some people find me charming and smart. Joke's on them. They don't see what a complete mess I am.

[Arturo]

Some people find me charming and smart. Joke's on them. They don't see what a complete mess I am.

At least you're smart enough not to care what they think.

[Claireliontamer]

Some people find me charming and smart. Joke's on them. They don't see what a complete mess I am.

I'm glad most people don't know the real chaos of my mind!

[Ali]

Some people find me charming and smart. Joke's on them. They don't see what a complete mess I am.

I'm glad most people don't know the real chaos of my mind!

Right? Mr Ali and I were talking about mind reading for some reason, and he was saying that he thought if people could read each other's minds it would bring about true empathy and end wars and stuff. I was horrified by the very idea. I don't know what the inside of his head looks like, but mine is unlikely to bring about world peace, and the idea of someone being able to see what goes on in there is genuinely appalling.