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Compassion for oneself is not always easy.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not always the most patient of individuals. It may take me a while to make up my mind, but when I do, I want results! Apparently, that’s the same even when I am not in control…

Ok, I experienced “trauma”, but this whole Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) nonsense, is for the birds! I understand that my body and mind need time to heal. I’m willing to give them the space (and compassion) they need to do so, but not at the expense of my life and only for a limited time!

Physically, I am healing. I have a timeline: the neck brace is off, no surgery is needed and I need to “take it easy” for the next 2 months. Yes, 2 months… that I can handle. It’s concrete. It’s a finite period of time that is going to end and I will be able to return to my “normal” activities*.

On the mental side, all I get is “It’s going to take some time to get over” or my personal favorite “this may permanently have changed your outlook on life”. Ha! I don’t accept that! I refuse to believe that for the rest of my life I am going to have to open every door in my apartment when I come home, that the stairs to my apartment are going to make my heart skip a beat or that anyone walking behind me is going to make me feel uncomfortable. Not to mention this insane (and sometimes overwhelming) irrational fear of being hit; as in flinching when someone gets too close because they might hit me (I mean come on… how much damage can an 80 year old women getting on the metro really do?) I try and laugh, but the reality is, it pisses me off! My mind is betraying me: it’s forgetting things, it still refuses to focus sometimes and my once enjoyable fantasies of having a partner a family and multiple homes are being shrouded by fears of 80 year-old women hitting me. All this and there is no concrete timeline; no “in 2 months all this will be a thing of the past and you will get back to your normal activities**”

My friend the shrink keeps reminding me of the complexity of the human brain and assuring me that all this is simply manifestations of PTSD… Blah! I want my brain back!


*(taking after my friend [Cherry] Ride I am adding footnotes) by “normal activities” I mean swimming, the gym, massaging etc, but I haven’t swam in months so, that’s a small delusion of mine.

** just to clarify – the normal activities here would be the fantasies of a partner, multiple houses, a dog and a great sex life

Just in time

One last night out before impending surgery; showtunes, perfect! A Monday night just like any other, only different.

I was there to cut loose and enjoy; nothing special, just a send off from some of my closest friends before a trip to San Diego that could’ve lasted a month. A no pressure evening where I could be surrounded by people who care and music I love. No expectations, just good company.

Then HE walked in; an image of pure beauty - 5’10 with a build that gave him the perfect V and a polo shirt that showed it all off. The Cowboy was there with me and we both noticed; no, we both gawked. I don’t compete with The Cowboy – he has it all over me and I love living vicariously through his exploits, so I encouraged him to make his move. Thirty minutes later we were all introduced to this object of lust and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. To my surprise, his attention shifted from the Cowboy to me.

Before I knew it, his hat was on my head, his hands on my body and my attention was all his. Beautiful blue eyes, shaved blonde hair and a smile to die for, conversation just flowed; my hands wandered and for the first time in a long time, I felt “chemistry”. Someone I was interested in was interested in me… just in time, just when my confidence in myself had waned, I was sent the kind of sign I needed.

The perfect age, brains to match the beauty and then the flaw… He’s from Nashville in for just a few days. The flirting was nice; no, the flirting was great… Now, the question: do I pursue? He’s in Nashville and I am back in DC. Do I call? Is it worth risking the fantasy just to see if someone who lives 1,000 miles away might still be interested or available?

Raising public awareness

I made the news: http://www.nbc4.com/news/9345439/detail.html

I don't know how long the video will be active, but the story should stay up for a while.

When emotions come calling

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks, two days, eleven hours and about 43 minutes since the world I knew as “safe” became invaded. That’s all well and good; I’ll heal, my emotions will heal… that is if I give them the space they need.

Hard to believe, but in all that time, I have cried once. Yes, once. There were many moments where I “almost cried”, where I felt my emotional world about to cave, but I held back, held it together and held it in. Not surprising; this is me after all…

The first cry was nothing special, a movie that always seems to hit me right in the emotional gut, “It’s my Party”. Those tears flow every time I watch; cathartic – yes, therapeutic – maybe, the cry I needed – no.

So, when does it come? Why does it come? Where am I when it comes? Answer – in my office, in the middle of the day on Thursday, because of a blog. An entry into another man’s mind, an entry all about “walls” and how they prevent us from giving people a chance to get to know us and my “walls” crack… no, they tumble…

The tears start to flow and they don’t stop… one after another line up on my lower eye-lids and they leak out of my eye. At first they are alone, just bits of salt water racing down my cheek, then that emotional volcano that has been stored up in my chest and gut starts to rumble… But, wait, I can’t, I’m in my office – too late.

The strength I’ve held onto as one bit of bad news after another gets thrown at me begins to fall out from under me; all because three muggers randomly chose me as their victim. You never know when it’s going to hit, but when it does you can’t always control it. Images of the incident, the support I’ve had since, the encouraging cards and calls, the care, the concern, the violation, the fear and finally the resignation – it wasn’t my fault, it will all be alright, but I need to give my emotional wounds the same consideration as I’ve given the physical ones.

Easier said than done, three minutes later and it’s over. The tears are dry, the volcano is temporarily subdued; not gone just dormant. It’d be nice if it were over, but I know this won’t be the last emotional surprise. Temporarily the walls have been replaced containing my wounds for another time…

All this because of a blog, a man in NY that I’ll probably never meet, but one who understands the human condition in a way most people don’t. We all have walls, won’t it be nice when I find someone who can help me break-down mine and pacify the volcano once and for all….

Family Dynamics

It’s sad that tragic events need to occur in order to bring families (back) together. Think about it, how many times do long-overdue conversations have some variation of “I wish we had done this under better circumstances” tucked inside?

It seems to be a trend. It used to be that birthdays, anniversaries and weddings brought people out of the woodwork to celebrate. Now, funerals, medical emergencies and tragedy top the list. I’m the perfect example….

My divorced parents don’t talk. (Honestly, it is better that way since the ‘hard feelings’ haven’t completely dissipated.) The only conversations they would have had revolved around money or one person owing the other something; until now… Both my parents came out in support of me and in support of each other after I was mugged and beaten. This sentiment spread rapidly through my family. I’ve heard from my uncle in Hawaii more times in the past 2 weeks than I have in the past 3 years; my aunt in SD has put aside the animosity she has for me and called just to show support; my mothers cousins have sent cards; and the list goes on.

Don’t get me wrong, all of this is great! This is the way “FAMILIES” should be, but why did we have to wait until I was almost killed (ok, that is a bit dramatic, but true all the same) before everyone came together in support of each other? Even better, how long will this last and will it have to another tragedy that brings us together or can we begin to share the joy as well?

The security and comfort of friendships

Don’t you love cliché’s? You know, “when life throws you lemons, make lemonade” or “There is always a silver lining.” Well I had a lesson in the latter…

No one can say that what happened to me was lucky, but they can say that what I learned from it was. The “silver lining” …

It came in the form of friendships. What was done for me over the last 2 weeks goes well beyond friendships. I was taken care of in a way that is expected only of families: trips to the ER at 2 am, multiple nights at my house keeping me company and warding off the ‘demons’, taking time off work, having impromptu movie nights and slumber parties, sending cards, running errands, and most importantly – making me feel safe. It was in the arms of my friends that I managed to recover so well. Without them, I wouldn’t be in such “good” shape now (and by “good” – I mean relatively speaking.) With this I learned what is TRULY meant by one’s “chosen family”.

To the knitter, the lobbyist, the cowboy, the shrink, the Brooklyn red-head and the Godfather - my eternal thanks and gratitude!