It's interesting to review the last several years. I've done terrible with maintaining this blog, and have even forgotten the login at one point. However, I don't know that I've changed much. I started this blog as a way to cope, a way to make comments and share feelings that at times I feel would alienate me from those around me. I failed miserably. Nothing seems to be able to control my mouth. Years of discipline and trying to maintain a PC (PG) version of myself have failed to keep me from as my wife would say, sharing too much.
Years ago, we moved in to a small quiet neighborhood. The neighborhood was mostly low income, mixed minorities, families just starting out, and the occasional should be retired, but just can't afford it couples. It wasn't a slum or anything, in fact it's one of the places I've most enjoyed living. Everyone seemed to have their own issues, however, they dealt with them. They didn't argue about whose problems were worse, nor did they brag about how much better they were doing than their neighbor. This was the first time I believe my wife told me I was no longer allowed to share my experiences with others.
It seems though that over time I've gotten worse. Not only with my inability to control the things I share, but, at times, how I share. There are certain people that have a strong affect on me. I have a friend that when we hang out, we often get out of hand. We share things that few understand. Our experiences although not the same, have similar underlying facets. Our reactions to how each other handled their specific situations is of course quite similar. The problem is, that as we share that bond, we also lose control of our 'filters' our underlying emotions betray us and take over the vocabulary we use.
It's been over a decade since my PTSD started. It's weird to think about it. When I first went through the event, I wanted to forget about the people involved and the situation in general. However, after more than a decade, now all I can remember is the guilt that I feel, and the image of a face as it left this world. I can still remember some details, however, I've forgotten his name, I've forgotten where he lived, and I've forgotten the events leading up to and after his death. It's like I've lost a month of my past. 10 years ago, I would've thought that this is what I wanted, however, now I wonder. After all, I used to be able to console myself that I had done all that I could in order to try to save him. With the exception that had I been smarter, I probably could have saved him.
I've spent the last several years learning about emergency medicine. I have improved my skills and focused on how I can help others. That still doesn't seem to be enough though. I've volunteered at a number of places trying to help as much as I can, however, I don't ever seem to fit in. It seems that there is a mark that others can see. They don't know what it is, or why it is there, but others notice that it's there. It's a small thing, but it's still something that is off.
I guess when it comes down to it. I won't know the true measure of my guilt until after this world is over. I hope that when I go before my maker, that he will find me acceptable, and will forgive me as well as help me to forgive myself. It seems that sometimes time doesn't heal so much as it festers...
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