Yesterday marked 4 years of being off work. Much like any anniversary I take stock of past, present and future. After an already long week my wife and I had individual sessions with a psychologist on Friday pertaining to a program we’re doing together (EBT3). What I was expecting to be an hour of talking about the effect of PTSD on my marriage turned out to be 80 minutes of being re-diagnosed and having my lonely confused childhood re-hashed. Maybe “details” weren’t discussed explicitly but that doesn’t mean they aren’t in my head once the calls and memories are brought up. I’m not the one being spared those details when a professional says that in a session after asking. My wife had an equally upsetting abbreviated session right after, and we spent much of Friday evening processing what had happened.

Iskald. Run The Jewels. Serj Tankian. Mooncitadel. Malakhim. The afternoon is planned. The neighbors may not agree but sometimes the albums just pick themselves and need played.

I laid in bed for a while yesterday morning. Nothing really needed done and I didn’t want to face the day immediately. There’s a lot of pride in emergency services. However much or little any of us is willing to admit it it feels good to be capable and rightfully earn the confidence that brings. It feels good to be seen that way by others too. Maybe that’s more important to me than it is for other first responders after growing up being dismissed and ridiculed over superficial choices but I don’t really think so.

I laid there thinking about how those capacities had changed in the past 4 years. When you’re getting loaded you can trick yourself into thinking they’re still there. When you’re crying in the ambulance between calls and hoping their still secret absence and your fraudulent presence won’t be exposed you’re ultimately afraid they’re never coming back. When you’re depressed and everyone is sick of your shit it doesn’t feel like you ever had any to begin with. When it seems like they’re coming back but you’re still wiping your sweaty disgusting hands on your pants every five minutes and trying not to cry you’re left seriously doubtful. When you do something that makes you feel like that capacity is finally coming back it’s elating. When you feel like that control is once again possible and it feels like you have a future again you finally learn what good crying actually feels like.

I fortunately had a TRE session with my wife on my work anniversary. It was incredibly grounding and relaxing. Afterword we went for a walk on a local trail with the kids and I actually felt calm and presence. We got some take-out on the way home and despite some fluster driving in a parking lot it was a good, affirming experience to go out. Instead of spending the day hiding and crying and trying not to be ashamed of myself over my injury I did all that. On my anniversary. That’s how much TRE is helping me. Thank you Martez and Dave!