Trauma Ward

So I'd like to wean myself off fluoxetine but maybe not yet. My doctorless Blond Companion suggests making an appointment with the doctor I'm lucky to have, but I don't like to take up his time needed by others with more pressing medical issues. I know he's feeling enormous stress himself, given the shitkicking Ford Nation is giving our healthcare system while it sells off our prime agricultural land to its mobster bosses, one of whom has already flipped their take to China.😷

Not to worry, though. Ford Nation is mad, folks, and gonna buy it back with our money, albeit not for us. At least our mobbed up OPP had the decency to hand off the investigation to our RCMP.💩

Prediction? Ford Nation will get away with it.👮

Unrelated prediction? Donald Trump won't. We don't bring mobsters to justice. The US does.👮

I unfriended a Facebook friend yesterday and will likely unfriend more as time goes on. I don't want condescending men in my life anymore and he had too much of a Richard Dawkins thing going on for my liberal feminist taste.👸

I grow old.👵

The other evening CBC had an item about unhoused citizens coping with trauma by self-medicating in the Byward Market because they have nowhere private to be (my phrasing, not CBC's). And if that isn't bad enough for Byward Market tourism, Xi Jingping is punishing us for calling out his interference in our elections/bullying of our citizens, by ordering his citizens to boycott travel to Canada.👮

Yeah well maybe it's time we did a cost/benefit analysis of the tourism industry, anyway, because it seems to me billions of middle-class bucket lists getting ticked off before billions more of us shuffle off this burning mortal coil, taking entire species and sherpa guides with us, isn't as sustainable as we want to pretend it is.🙅

By the way, there's no such thing as an eco-tourist. Just leave the Galapagos to the turtles, ffs.💔

But that's not what this post is about because this post is about letting go past resentments to make room for new ones.😀

Obviously, I'm kidding (sort of). What I mean is, no more blaming mom. Or you. Or your mom. And especially no more blaming myself. I don't know how to transform a culture of competition and entitlement to one of cooperation and caring but I can work on my own behaviour to be "more good/less bad" as My Blond Companion once put what we all want out of life. And I can ally myself with others already hard at it because Gord knows it takes knowhow I don't have to get there. Cripes, I only just made the connection between eating because hungry and feeling better because full. That's how traumatized it turns out I am and I've had a very privileged middle-class life.👸

I suppose I should thank the Freedom Convoy for amping my emotional dysregulation to 11, resulting in the debilitating panic attacks that led me to medication, therapy and hours spent reading about trauma and its effects on the body. We live in a world created and run by traumatized people who would rather die than show vulnerability. I grew up surrounded by adults numbing themselves in one way or another and labelling kids critical of the unfairness we witnessed day after day after day as overly sensitive pains in the ass.👶

Interesting choice of words, eh? Think about it. Do you know any old people who had therapy? I don't. My mother preferred death to vulnerability, ffs. There was nothing more terrifying to her than being vulnerable. Why? I can only imagine. Grew up poor during the Depression, went through a world war, was widowed with 4 children in the early 60s. I grew up surrounded by The Greatest Generation priding itself on sucking it up and swallowing it down, stiffening upper lips and straightening spines, no pain a good stiff drink couldn't cure and if it couldn't, well, life's tough but guess who cares about your problems more than you? That's right, nobody.💀

And if not these traumatized products of The Greatest Generation calling all our shots it was buggered and buggering bullies mad at mommy, grown up private schoolboys, Boomers and GenXers pretending to have fun burning hundred dollar bills in front of unhoused citizens coping with trauma by self-medicating in public because they have nowhere private to be. Cripes, name a family more fucked up than the Fords. Meanwhile, one brother was mayor of Toronto and the other's Premier of Ontario. Why? The Fords all need therapy, not power.❤

Like the therapists say, it's not our fault, but it is our responsibility, so that's where I'm going to put my energy going forward, which is the only direction we can go, anyway.💁