Let Luce

 I wanted to Trauma Dump so I can stop talking about it. I thought it would stop being a part of me. I thought it would stop being a part of my writing. But that will never be.  That will never be.  'But to say never say never you done said never twice...it's the questions, it's the questions boy...' (Common Sense)  'Sew, buttons on your underpants.'  My Mom always used to say that. I would sigh and say, 'So....'  She would finish my sentence with, 'buttons on your underpants.' I still catch myself repeating her quips and phrases after all these years.  Semantics.  What a 'mother huncher'!  That's another little phrase I picked up from my buddy's Dad. He would say 'mother huncher' instead of y'know....the big cuss word.  He also called Giant Eagle, 'The Dirty Bird'. Ew.  But that's what we are left with when people leave our lives in one way or another. Things they've said, things they'v...

  Trauma Dump (continued) Everything changed, but change itself.  Nothing ever changed and I woke up one day and everything was different.    25. My relationship with Eric fell apart. He started to drink too much. I guess he was alone too often. He made a permanent decision. He hung himself in his basement with an orange electrical cord. The only thing left in his house were empty bottle of Canadian Club a single bottle of Heinz ketchup in the fridge, and the stench of stubborn sadness.  26. My son. I thought. My son, my sun. And I started to tick again. Was that a bomb? Or a clock?   27. Bobby got diagnosed with cancer. I found out a month before the treatments began. His actual diagnosis was whispered behind my back long before that. My invisible brother (by blood only) insisted he would be supportive. He would hire someone to take care of Bobby. Bobby - hired me. Turns out sometimes, you have to actually be present, to be present....

           Trauma Dump.            Let's do this.   They say anger is only the initial reaction. The first most obvious feeling. Underneath that anger is hurt, pain, sadness. All the secondary emotions that lie dormant. The secondary emotions wear their cloak of anger to avoid being addressed. It's just too difficult sometimes. A lot of the time.  So let's see where all my anger was/is coming from. Maybe it will help me to figure out just how much pain I am in.     1. My junior year of high school my mother got pneumonia and spent the next nine months in ICU. I got my drivers license and was able to go to school, work at a grocery store, and visit her at Mercy Hospital throughout those months. Silver linings. 2. The summer going into my Senior year of high school my Mom got well enough to come home from the hospital. We had a live in nurse to take care of her. 3. A month later my Mom h...

It's best for me to write out my traumas as a timeline. Time has always been somewhat elusive to me. I have missed time, I've made up time, I've been late, I've been early. I can't say I've ever truly been ON time.  How is one supposed to be on time? Seriously.  I wear a watch all the time and I still don't understand time.  What I do understand are timelines. General times that have happened and passed and still stick around in the present. Time for trauma. Time for timelines. Time for times like these. Time.  A fickle, funny word, isn't it?   By definition time is:  t he indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. Bizarre, am I right?  So, I've decided to do a tragic, trauma, timeline of sorts. It'll help us speed past some of the snapshots that inevitably take me back in time. I'll get there eventually. I'll get somewhere eventually. I hope.  My Paradox Philos...

  Well... I know what I'm doing here. I'm listening to a broken record.  Me. But, really, what am I doing here?  Besides riding the Ferris Wheel of the blame game and throwing stones from my piles of broken glass.  I sometimes sound like I'm ringing the alarm for an awful upbringing, in a seedy neighborhood with wretched trolls posing as family.  Sometimes that's what it felt like...and 'feelings are valid'.  (Learned that in therapy).  But what role did I play?   It goes back to Radical Acceptance. Owning your shit. Owning the part you played.  (Learned that in therapy).   How the hell did I really get here? It's quite the list, I'm going to be honest.  As a professional secret keeper I have a long list of secrets.  Luckily, that's what I'm good at:  lists and secrets .  If I keep slinging mud and name calling whilst not 'radically accepting' the role I've played in this game called life, I'll never get to the g...

  SubStack is a delightful little application I found quite some time ago. It is a platform for writers, thinkers, existentialists, sports fans, but mainly writers. It is a grown-up Medium. If anyone remembers the Medium platform. I quite enjoy the posts on SubStack and started a blog on there a while ago but didn't feel totally comfortable writing out my thoughts. I am going to share the two little posts I wrote on there as well as a post I found on there today from another author. Please enjoy.  The Moment We Notice Ourselves Changing  It is only You!!! From The Philosophy of Us SubStack December 12   There is a moment, usually small and almost invisible, when we realize we're not quite the same as before. Nothing dramatic. No grand revelation. Just a subtle shift, like the light moving across a room.    Maybe we pause before responding. Maybe an old worry feels lighter than it used to. Maybe something that one hurt no longer has the same sh...