internal amusement lead to insanity

PTSD is pretty brutal, man. I went through counselling, sought constant psychiatric help against a myriad of melancholy and over the years I’ve been gaining a keen interest in that of human psychology. I am defiantly thinking about wanting to specialize in trauma and grief counselling.

These last few weeks, I’m reminded of the terrible stress and mental fatigue that thousands of us routinely subject to during times. The other day, a US soldier contemplating suicide left a very disturbing comment in the blogosphere. He explained that he was suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder, and that while in Iraq his wife had an affair. Thanks to the diligence of long time readers and IP tracking, the location of the solder was determined and, I am happy to report, he is getting some help.

We live in a world filled with endless noise, yet one that finds many of us feeling utterly alone. All of us, no matter what others may think, have, at some time, dealt with feelings of isolation, of anxiety, and hopelessness. And that is precisely why we must reach out to those that feel that there is no way out.

This headache is still with me. I see the world in closely spaced throbs. I’m sullen about my failure. I want to play beautifully for myself, but I play badly for her, to disappoint her, and to make her angry. I wanted to practice for myself in freedom from her constant criticism, with her in a different country, or dead. It's a sad but common story. Probably upwards of ninety percent of those who are or have been in a relationship can tell it. It's true that once you have reached this certain stage, sex doesn't happen. I would be writing about recreational sex as a band-aid or the most boring waspy sort of people doing boring waspy-ish kinds of rituals, but I'm not gonna. This entire situation of mine has now become very strange.

You know, just when I start to think that the internet is nothing but pornography, hackers, and whiners, something like this happens and I begin to see the value of the internet.

Living with depression, I know that what I need, and what a lot of other people need, is someone to talk to once in a while. That’s another great thing about the internet. You don’t have to be in the same room, or same country as the person who can help you. I am often asked why I enjoy blogging so much. And my response is one that is made possible not by what I write or believe, but by those who I know, who come here.