Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on July 26, 2015
This is Aress, yesterday morning. Ten minutes later he was dead.
A truck pulling a horse trailer went by on the dirt road that I take to get to this hilltop where Aress and I used to live. Aress went after it. I called him back to me, and he came. I held onto his collar while the trailer went rattling by, but it was too much for him and he broke away and ran after the trailer. I ran down the road screaming his name, and then I saw his body. The trailer had run over his head.
I threw myself down on top of his body and screamed and screamed. Buzzards were already gathering. I screamed the few yards to the van and got a tarp to protect his body from the vultures, and I lay back down in the road holding his body and screamed and screamed, and kept on screaming till the horse trailer guy came back, and I somehow dialed the number of the woman I bought him from and screamed, “Aress is dead!” And then I screamed until she got there and picked me up off his body. Then some people came and dug him a grave and buried him. I screamed all night. Now I’m just crying, and I don’t want to scream because I have another dog to keep me company tonight, but she is sick and I don’t want to upset her.
Maybe this is instant karma for taking Noga’s life. Maybe his job on earth was finished. Maybe life has ZERO MEANING and it’s all an illusion.
Maybe it’s so fucked up I can’t even find words to express how fucked up it is
He had become my friend, my brother, my protector from all harm. He was the only family I had. THE ONLY FAMILY I HAD, for fuck’s sake. And he was gone in the blink of an eye. And now I’m alone, more alone than I’ve ever been.
PLEASE don’t try to tell me I’m not. I. Am. Alone.
Last night I came the closest I’ve ever come to using my suicide kit. Instead I took drugs and screamed and screamed and screamed.
It’s not over yet. This loss might be too much for me. My heart and soul were melded with his. I just don’t know how I can keep on living without him.
“God”? There is no God. There is NO God. If there is some kind of evil thing that causes this kind of damage, may it shrivel and die. But of there is something called God that causes this kind of damage, may it suffer the same fate. To create me, a damaged person, to bring a beautiful healing soul into my life so that I begin to see meaning and then without warning to rip my beautiful soul away? BULLSHIT there is no good in the world, only evil and buzzards and I don’t want to be in a world like this.
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on July 20, 2015
A truly phenomenal, right on the mark essay on the unique vulnerability that people with history of childhood abuse have to abusers and predators in adulthood, and asks the question, is childhood abuse the basis for mental illness?
Originally posted on Gentle Kindness :
People with mental illness often have psychological damage from being subject to abuse during childhood, Then very often they are retraumatized in adulthood by ending up being the victims of predators, There are narcissistic people that prey people who have C-PTSD from childhood abuse.
Some predators actually will evaluate
you during conversations early in the relationship. They find out about your past and what the effects were. Yes, when they were seeming to be so sweet and caring, they were pumping you for information, in order to asses how broken you were.
These predators know that broken people are easier to brainwash and drag into their world of control and manipulation. The relationships we have with people like this, retraumatize us and add to the C-PTSD we already had.
You have chosen to click on this post because the title of it struck a nerve with you. Most likely you…
View original 668 more words
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on July 19, 2015
You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life. –
Good one for this time. Yes, I have enemies. I have people who think I’m stupid. In my experience, that usually means that they are either jealous, ignorant, mean, or just plain stupid themselves.
I’ve seen stupid people. Those are people who refuse to open their eyes to evidence that’s right before their faces, or who keep on doing the same ineffective or maladaptive thing over and over again, and getting more and more pissed off because it STILL isn’t working. Well then.
I have to be on the lookout for these behaviours in myself, more than ever, because the one thing we, or I, anyway, never want to cop to is that we might be acting stupid.
I say ACTING stupid because there is always a choice. Most people aren’t inherently stupid; it’s just easier to revert to deeply embedded ways of squaring off with people or situations that challenge the status quo.
Or, a person develops a persona, and that is the face he presents to the world, rather like a puppet or automaton. So instead of actually engaging with the world from a novel point of view each and every time, it’s easier and much more comfortable to let the persona, which is seamless and in fact homogeneous, handle the situation the way it normally would.
That way you don’t fall into the trap of independent thinking, ch’v’sh. (“Heaven forbid.”)
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on July 1, 2015
Been there…..It’s been a rough go for both mange and my now-adult child, but it helped me understand how people with lesser inner resources could, in a flash of desperation, hurt either their child and/or themselves. All of that outside chatter, plus no supportive family, makes navigating the rough seas of an inconsolable baby plus depression more than impossible for some people–and most often, it’s not the mom who loses it, but the father or significant other who “just wants that kid to shut up.” The situation can get out of hand very quickly, and sometimes ends in tragedy.
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on June 26, 2015
This is one of the best articles on recovery in mental illness that I have ever read. Scratch that: THE best. Way to go, Sam!
Originally posted on Let's Queer Things Up!:
I still have ups and downs, and sometimes those mood swings are more intense than you’d expect for someone who calls this phase of their disorder “remission.” I wallow, and I cry, and sometimes it takes a minute before I’m back on my feet.
I say this because I want people to understand something: There’s this idea that mental health recovery is supposed to be some kind of fantastic, magical place where we never experience a negative emotion ever again. But it’s a myth, and a lousy myth at that.
I will probably always feel more intensely than neurotypical folks do. I will have some inexplicable sadness from time to time. I might find myself anxious about…
View original 1,250 more words
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on June 22, 2015
Yes I know
It was your time
And what a time
For Death did not
Catch you sleeping
You took HER,
On the HOW of it
As in all things,
For Yom Kippur
That choicest of choice Days
Even to let me
Wet your cracked lips
“Ah,” I understood,
“Your food is spiritual now.”
Closed eyes, you nodded,
And I knew
You would be gone.
Just after dawn
Box of wind,
Began to heave
I called them in
I had to share
Your precious last hour
I didn’t want to.
Three breaths from the last
You knit your brow
As a diver
For that great leap
Two more breaths
And you were
I closed the dear eyes
Lowered bed to the floor,
Posted by Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA on June 21, 2015