both of my elder brothers successfully suicided after years of countless threats. of the other 9 of us, myself included, the threats have proven mostly theatrical to date.

those theatrics (times 11) are hard to forget. as i process, am i seeing parental theatrics, as well?

Huge hug Arf.... I am so sorry for your losses..... That would be devastating and I can only imagine that the flashbacks would be so hard to bare...... I am hugging you.... God bless you and keep you safe.... xo

thank you, jan. it is, indeed, a highly convoluted psycho snot knot. processing. . . hope healing happens here.

perhaps the harshest part is how the years of manipulative threats make the success something of a relief. do i mourn the end of life or celebrate the end of suffering?

then we get to all the family members whose ongoing theatrics sound more like idle promises with every spin of the not-so-merry-go-round. can i help you with that noble ambition? it seems to be the only ambition you have in life.

sigh. . . reaching for the compassion. . .

I don't talk about it as often as it happens, arfie, but I have daily flashbacks to an episode as a 15 year old that you know about well. It was when a death squad under Uruguay's dictatorship tortured me and ended the session with two attempts to shoot me, attempts that failed when the gun jammed twice.

Since they were busy that day murdering the country's union leaders, as I found out later, rather than grab another gun that worked the officer in charge just threw me aside. Besides, by that point my babbling was making him think I might be a gringo and there might be trouble if he killed me after all.

All of that context can distract from the personal point for me, though, and that is that a weird flashback was wired into my brain from that point forward. "Finish the job," it says to me every day.

Like you, at one point I decided to embrace that flashback rather than repress it. So now it's part of my daily devotions, when I answer the automatic idea of dying suggested to me in the inevitable with what my day's reason for living will be.

It's a weird way to come to meditating on each day's purpose But it was a weird world I was taken to in Uruguay as a missionary kid and I wasn't the one called to minister to it, so whatever works. So far so good. I'm for embracing flashbacks, as you say.

i often envy that you only have the one set of flashbacks which haunt you, muji. as gnarly as war trauma is, it looks far more orderly than the chaos of child sex trafficking and all the domestic dysfunction attached. from a safe social distance, of course. . .

there i go with my problem envy again. . .
keeping it personal. . .

starting with the trauma induced amnesia i started therapy with in 1972, my flashbacks have felt like peeling the world's largest onion. lots and lots of tears and jeers with every layer.

still, the quickest way out is straight on through. better an ugly memory i can shuffle to the side than a psychotic break where i am continually blindsided by the psychotic replays.

When I have traumatic flashbacks of childhood injuries I try to quickly redirect my mind to the present. Gentle ((hug)) and keeping you in prayer as you continue to heal.

(((((Arfie)))))))
Here with you amiga holding out my hand in solidarity and empathy

Sending support, strength & many prayers
Big hug <3

(((((((((((((melt)))))))))))))))
(((((((((((((missy)))))))))))))
thank you guys. support appreciated.

the trauma induced amnesia adds a pretty wicked twist to the redirect method of managing trauma flashbacks. the line between "redirect" and "repression/denial" is fuzzy, at best. i have a solidly established herstory of repression and denial, alongside a proven ability to take those subconscious coping mechanisms to destructive extremes.

still, wallowing in the cesspools of trauma is not an improvement on the theme. balance in all things. . . i am currently processing the repressed memories here while i continue my daily tasks of running the farm and raising foster children.

high-wire balancing act in progress while practicing gratitude for the safety net provided by my therapy support network. thank you for being here.

itsy bitsy baby steps
being gentle with myself and patient with the process.
i'll still take that frontal lobotomy, if it becomes available. just wishing. . .

I wish that were the only set of flashbacks I have, arfie, but the Uruguayan civil war went on for 6 years so there are many, many more. They're not like yours and the chaos of child sex trafficking and the domestic dysfunction you went through. However, domestic dysfunction happened in my childhood when the civil war outside the home caused untreated PTSD inside my home to erupt in civil war, too.

So though it's different, in parallel fashion I get a lot out of your posts about the domestic dysfunction you've worked on in therapy since 1972. I get discouraged from time to time about how long PTSD recovery takes. It's reassuring to me, then, when you mention that you've stuck with working on it for so long.

Thanks for how you address working with memory here like you do. It helps me work with mine.