Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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Inside my own strictly personals, the multi-generational shifts in family dynamics since my father-in-law's death at the end of September remain a muddy emotionally confusing, legally challenging mess. Distinguishing a father from a son from a child remains. . . Politically sensitive? This SIL/DIL is still not sure she wants to swim in that silver polish pool. Girl, howdy, my inner beaten crazy bitch wolf is feeling the call of the wild. Is there such a thing as a sane human? Just get me far away to anywhere but here. Don't fence me in. . .
It is still all guesses and speculations, especially the survey I am farm survey I am working here in North Texas, but it FEELS like it is holding a steady and desireable course. I think. Maybe. Works in progress. . . At worst, it is almost as much fun as volunteering at a Publically Owned Park. So far all the practical details are still in the in-law NUNYA (None of Your Business) cabinet. For the 36 years I have loved his son, the FIL's social skills turned mean in a hurry when conversation diverted from his control boundaries. So far, Hubs is still looking like his father's son when I ask about the legal and/or accounting details. Yes, dear. This is me running for the safety of my own business.
My own contusion-dodging mantra through the confusion has been, "Let God lead the Dance." Seems to be working. It is still hard, but. . . No major blouts yet. . . When I feel safe letting my thoughts move beyond mantraic simplicity, I often wonder if my emotions are designed to be an organic monitoring system. Negative emotions alert me to danger. Positive emotions alert me to the stuff I should be nurturing.
Thoughts? Copy and paste internet wisdom? Personal opines? Reality checks?
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I haven't written in my diary on my computer since May because I thought that my computer was dying. I got away from writing but my computer is hanging in there. I think that I will start writing in it again. It's so therapeutic.
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Years ago, I won a mirrored armoire from my job. It's in my bedroom but I rarely stand in front of it. Yesterday, I had to have a dexascan done so I had to change into a gown. There was a full length mirror in the changing room. I'm aware that I gained 5 to 7 pounds over the last year from cheating on Keto but I didn't know what it looked like. It was a reality check.
There's a saying/joke about divorce "why are divorces so expensive...because they're worth it". Same is true with letting someone else do the work when someone dies leaving a houseful of stuff.
Hence the wish for a primal monitoring system. I'm not housebroken enough for civil knowledge of this particular process and not in-law bonded enough to feel the loss on a personal level. I called my in-laws, "Mister and Missus Surname."
If I ever figure out family dynamics, then Iw ill let you know, but given my Bro-in-law's wife threw away homemade fudge just b/c i made it? Yeah, work in progress, and oh, if only 9it weren't so much work. I can't even call her by name now. She's "His wife", a thing I hate, but .... if she insists on hating me b/c I'm from poor folk like her, and haven't "elevated' myself, well, then okay, that's how it is. I find it painful, as my brother-in-law used to accept me no questions asked. Every change---birth, marriage, death, money, etc.---leaves me dancing like a puma on a hot slate roof.
Big purring support.