Candid Corvid Productions

“My replacement car stopped working today.

No signs of life; no response to new batteries in key fob; and it burns out replacement #10 chips in less than a second.

Finals, 3rd party doctor assessment, and ducking under the finish line for 2/3rd’s retraining completion are disrupted.”

“I can’t stop.

This looming roller coaster is zooming in twisting, cacophanous spiraling.

All I can do is direct my attention, hold onto re-invention, and ride out through the looping hoops.

Fragmenting at the seams while pushing internal boundaries outward in many directions helps to reclaim by muted extremes.

My movements create trends projecting into the future, imprinting expectations upon the surrounding atmosphere to make space for when I will get there.”

“He’s happy now, taking care of the needs of another family.

Why couldn’t he have been there for me?

Is it just over time growth, choice, and maturity?”

“It’s all just a big, fat joke” with too much worrying involved.

“I couldn’t get away from it until I found my man.”

“When one is being terrorized, the fear and pain become more real than moments of light and happiness.”

“From the outside, the older woman promoted a decent bargain.

But once you bought it and moved in, it was going to the bathroom in buckets she would ‘gracefully’ attend for avoidance of sewer reparations.

It was cringing at the inability to avoid the dawning horror of watching white-capsuled tapeworm eggs dropping off from untreated cat bums and littering all over the furniture, tables, and carpet surfaces.

It was the morning, noon, and evening times wretchingly vomitous smell of the unnecessarily now permanent colostomy bag being emptied as its fumes filled nearly the entire house with no escape granted.

And it was the continuous, stalking-in-wait insanity of chances being begged for for family reunification – at the same time all efforts were being rejected, laughed at, and sabotaged.”

“He had to do some terrible things in the end for me to leave him.

That’s how much he wanted his freedom.

That’s how much I had needed to Believe.”

“No one else can better advocate for those of us who see beyond the surface reflections.

We must clamber out of bed, wobble over to and clear the table, and then formulate plans for how to begin again.”

“We cared for them. Cherished them.

As older siblings, we knew what damage could do – and vowed to protect them.

It’s no wonder they could not relate to us.

We made sure they would never know the nightmares.”

“The feeling never goes away – that longing for comfort…that wishful desire to have a close, affectionately caring and mutually attentive companionship.”

“PTSD, or hypervigilant shock syndrome, is something I frequently waded through while looking for hope of some safe shore to climb out onto in order to get away from being targeted when I was a child.

I suppose at some point, I stopped looking for loving acceptance.

Because somewhere amid the harsh words, criticizing looks, and undeserved categorical rejection in the 70’s, tremors now attempting to release from my body tell of a once constant fear’s twitching to avoid being randomly hit.”

“I had not been practicing, and I didn’t want to go.

Why did grandpa insist in my joining the line?

As if suddenly I would transform, spontaneously?

Didn’t he know that my world did not support me in those same ways once I left his and grandma’s domain?”

“When the emotions and/or sensations would come, I would kick off from them, trying to reach and maintain surface tread of the water.

I think it’s time I try something different.

Like holding my breath and trying to sink down through them, so I can push them up to the surface for deeper healing to begin.”

“Many friends (especially one recently, which greatly dissapointed the optimist in me) have said in casting their chips that life is harsh and hard – and that’s all it is.

I do not agree with this sentiment – no matter how “negativity” keeps plying at my resolve to be positive with its unarguably painful and disruptive experiences.

There seems to be a definite paradigm effect working diligently against many of us – but that doesn’t mean that we should give into it.

Yes, I suffer.

Constantly and frequently.

Pain and extreme discomfort take turns shuffling around and between places in my body’s psycho-physio-emotional ecology.

The pain last night in my neck was so bad, for example, I almost gave into just flat out frustrated crying.

And I’m not sure which is worse – the pain or the numbness? The disconnection throughout my joints and limbs that I clamber against.

If I’m not feeling intense pain somewhere in my head or body and/or that pressure causing such a red, inflamed haze, I am pushing hard against these other limitations – willing connections in harmony to grow again.”

“I just bought it the other day. This gorgeous dark beast, smooth and polished, soaked in deep, rich colors, and shaped in the abstract hinting of a dragon’s head.

The alarm that struck through me when I heard the hard-solid clang of my pocket’s contents impacting against the unyielding metal pole of the workout machine as I draped my coat over it signalled injury.

No! I love this stone – I appreciate it!

It’s now cracked across its skull, just like I was. Only there are no cells present to aid its healing. None that is, except the energy of its caretaker, holding it in apology.”

“I do not know to what extent the man was real – whether truly an inky-black, thin-shaped spirit with a black hat that he would tip in irony and dark humor – or if he was just the amalgamation of fragments of experience that my mind put together to represent all the ill will of/inside humans that I’d been feeling.

Like the tarry cancer that fills lungs of those people who were smoking. That sense of “wrong” that never goes right despite all the efforts we’re doing.

Does he haunt me still? Is that why my life never seems to be getting better?

I keep trudging forward against the odds, creating sunbeams in absence of the sun – only barely rebooting when it shines upon me. And when darkness descends again, I come undone.”

“Understanding the factors at work back then – such as a mother’s having severe post-partum depression and a father’s avoidant behavior of her while giving love to their newborn child causing the mother to feel unloved and rejected –  would seem to help resolve trauma as revisiting the event for analysis.

But I think I’ve always understood the influences upon people to some extent. I could feel, if not see, the factors present. The issue for me is how to expunge physical and energetic imbedded experience of the situation’s impact.

The pain and danger signals. The unhealed scars and mixed negative messaging imprints that my body’s been carrying.

That stuff now shaking free to quiver constantly – overpinging my brain and spinal cord since the accident.”