Category Archives: PTSD

Day 8 – August 18, 2017 (Moxie Man)

Posted on by
Reply

Day 8 – Friday, August 18, 2017 (Moxie Man)

5:24 a.m. – Charley’s early walk was lovely. More so than usual, there is a very light rain falling, and the scent of rain in the air reaches the center my heart. I’ve loved the scent since I was a  boy. Had the scent somehow washed over me when I was a baby, then my love for it started then. I kissed Charley on the top of his velvety head, and then let him make his morning contributions.

I treasure moments like this morning’s early walk with Charley, in August more than any other month. August has not been much of a friend. My Dad died on the 16th, my mother committed suicide on the 12th, and I was held-up and shot in the head on the 24th. That said, an enchanting woman called me Moxie Man this month, and that’s just about as lovely as the scent of rain, and embeds a beautiful moment in August.

It just started pouring rain outside! This could me my first real rain walk. I am smiling. I want as much of my life back as I can get. Remember, because you feel hopeless doesn’t mean there’s no hope; it simply means you’ve lost contact with it; it’s still there; promise.

8:44 a.m. – Back home. A walk in a soft rain, the earlier downpour had calmed by the time I entered the morning. I hope it rains the same way tomorrow morning. When I was a boy we lived in an area filled with woods and a nice wide stream me and my friends viewed as our own private river. Walking in the rain reminded me of all the beauty and peace I found in the woods. I think it is still there.

************

For Anne Marie

 

Break for Freedom – Day 7 (Measured fury)

Posted on by
Reply

Day 7 – August 17, 2017 (Measured fury)

8:01 a.m. – Back home after my walk.

I have mixed feelings about allowing myself much credit for completing this morning’s walk. It was easier than the others because it was fueled by a measured fury, a fury that was part of every stride, every movement.

Where does the fury come from? My father and uncle and many of my friend’s fathers and uncles fought in World War II against the Nazis. My father was in the 20th Armored Division, one of three divisions that liberated the Dachau Concentration Camp. The president of my country is the Nazi’s ally. He an ally of White Nationalists, and he is an ally of the KKK. When I hear some talking heads ask each other why the president is behaving like this. I want to snatch them up by the nape of the neck and, in a loud voice, say: “You guys just graduate the Rhetorical Questions Workshop? Because he is a racist! Because he is a Nazi! Wake the fuck up!”

I did the uphill walk again today. It was no match for me. Let me right-size that. It was no match for fury.

Break for Freedom – Day 6 (My Dad’s day)

Posted on by
Reply

Day 6 – August 16, 2017 (My Dad’s day)

Back home 8:22 a.m. – A different day, in large part because today marks 48 years since my father, Sanford Cleveland Kahrmann, died. My father was and is the greatest gift my life has given me. Today’s walk, a truly sweet-morning mist in the air, was kind of magical. I reversed the walk starting yesterday so there is a nice uphill stretch, the soft-pain in my thighs from pushing the pace a welcome event.

As I was getting close to home, I remembered that 48 years ago, my father was alive in the morning. He was pronounced dead at 1:43 p.m. in St. Luke’s Hospital in New York City. Peritonitis took his life. The day he died, the world, for me, became a dangerous place to be. He was only 55. He was also my best friend.

I love you, Dad, my whole wide world. As Bob Dylan wrote: “And if there is eternity, I’ll love you there again.”

No power on earth could have stopped me from walking today.

*********************

For my father, Sanford Cleveland Kahrmann, (Feb. 20, 1914 – Aug. 16, 1969).

Break for Freedom – Day 5 (Puddle jumping)

Posted on by
Reply

Day 5 – August 15, 2017 (Puddle jumping)

6:20 a.m. – It is raining. A steady rain. When I was a boy I couldn’t wait to go outside and play in the rain. Jump-stomping into the biggest puddle I could find was as much fun as a roller coaster. While my hands tremble a bit while I tap away here, I am smiling. Puddle jumping was a blast.

About hands trembling. It’s fear. Free floating anxiety some call it. Right. Fear.  Like some of you, I have a relationship with the fear, with the PTSD, with the agoraphobia, with, in my case, a brain injury. The bad news is, these things are present. The good news  is — and I’m dead serious — the good news is, you have a say in your relationship with them. The challenge is relieving these demons of their decision-making power.

Consider this for a moment. The rain is beautiful. It’s sound, the angle of its fall. Why should any demon gets much decision-making power it stops me from walking in the rain? Important to remember. On the days you can’t get out, it does not mean you’re weak, nor does it mean, you failed. It means these demons are no-nonsense tough opponents. Nothing more, nothing less.

7:10 a.m. – I’m out the door.

9:24 a.m. – The walk, followed by a trip to the store, is over. I am glad I am alive. Yes, another drenched shirt, but that’s okay; I’ve got a fresh cup of coffee.

 

Break for Freedom – Day 4 (Fabric softener)

Posted on by
Reply

Day 4 – Monday, August 14, 2017

7:08 a.m. – This morning feels intensely like a maybe. This is wimpy on my part, but waking up later than usual throws me, and generously offers all kinds of reasons not to walk solo today.

8:14 a.m. – Just as I’m going out the door I’m raging with discomfort, I’m thinking the inside of my sweatshirt is way rough on my skin and how can I walk…

I walked anyway. Next problem. My t-shirt is soaked through in no time at all and, as that too starts to bother me, I remember that when I was a dancer, or playing sports, I loved being sweat-soaked, fully immersed in the task at hand.

There will be no fabric softener for this kid.