Author

Gale

PTSD Trigger My Life has No Meaning

by Gale 12/14/2014

written by Gale

My life has no meaning. I am triggered, PTSD. He said it, but it is not his fault. It is me, something inside of me. I can’t even remember what we were talking about. But the last thing I remember is he said, “I’ve done that. That industry [the industry I have worked in] is nothing special. It’s old technology. Everybody knows it. It’s not like you’re splitting an atom or something.”

My knowledge is nothing. My experience is nothing. I am nothing. My life has no meaning. That is the progression. There is no logical reason for me to live. I can’t make a meaningful […]

12/14/2014 0 comment

Gale Day 5

by Gale 12/13/2014

written by Gale

Five days I’ve lived since commiting to die, since calling a national hotline, my first time ever. Stuck in the rural South, My dogs and the North wind keep watch with me, watchers for the morning. I wrapmy knee in ice. It’s disintigrating from a 980’s Surgery…the sutures, tiny lengths o fibrous black, rose through my skin to the surface. And now the ligaments are tearing away. My surgeon died decades ago. My SI Joints’ ligaments stretched in an industrial accident, permit the whole set of bones to wrench away from each other. Favoring the right knee makes it worse. I think I may have […]

12/13/2014 0 comment

I am in Pain!

by Gale 12/12/2014

written by Gale

God, if you are merciful, then Let me Die! How long can I bleed? My skin effuses rage, hate, anguish. I am a curse to my family. Pain sears my body. Rather than making a lasting contribution to humanity, I pray, Primum Non Nocere! Remove me so that Primum Non Nocere! She elicited a hairline fracture. A Trigger shattered the side. The vessel stands gaping, bleeding. Dying. Beyond coping resources. So tired. Is one more day of torture really success. “You’re doing so well, one more day.” Then I am loathe to succeed.

12/12/2014 0 comment

So very tired

by Gale 12/10/2014

written by Gale

The next step. I take the next step. Then have no energy. Where is the vessel of life? How do I refill it? The rent wall leaks to the floor all I pour in. The holidays are here. Time to live for others. No time to die. But I am so tired. So very tired.

12/10/2014 0 comment

Why?

by Gale 12/9/2014

written by Gale

I came to the forest to determine why. Why life? Why death? When depression sucks you down like the Le Brea tar pits, you can no longer see the ground warmed by the morning sun. You see those who have come before you mired in the sticky, intractable black ***. The skeletons of those who didn’t make it are all around you. Charles Boyer, Vincent van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf. Robin Williams, so close, you could almost touch him. A delicate balance…when pain exceeds coping resources.

For the prosecution:
– 41 years of depression
– Crimes against humanity committed to me
– Committed […]

12/9/2014 2 comments