Feb 2-6 PTSD and Still Sober

 8:06 Days last a little longer with each worry, and not having certainty on what you're doing. YouTube helped a bit, better help came from some documents. 

Pigeons have babies in worse conditions than I have for them. And having a high mortality rate, deaths of the squab are very common so, I'm just being panicky I suppose.

Deciding that the heaters were only a set of potential hazards, I gathered them back together and repackaged them to return. 

In my sadness over reality, it was best to focus on the construction plans of what I need for the actual coop rather than pine over the young. The parents know what to do so, I'll leave nature to take its course while working on the facility.  

The problem is taking away from the space in the garage, where to put it, and to make it easy to disassemble. 

All I need to do is keep them alive and healthy. 9:06

February 6, 2023 12:53 PM

Sometimes you have to clarify to yourself, what it is you are. Being at home means you're responsible for home care. Self discipline means, not taking a shower until the day is over when you realize it's 12:33.

PTSD has been an issue the last few days- getting trapped in the crossfire of horrific imagery of what the range of possibilities are per situations... 

Julie mentioned going to see Cublin, our new grandson, prompting me to contact Sarah about visiting. 

After an exchange of texts, on facebook messenger, it was planned that we were coming but for the certainty revolving around a birthday party invitation that Sarah was to take the boys to. 

The birthday party was cancelled due to an illness so, we planned on being in Dayton early afternoon on Saturday.

Mentioning that Riley also needed a bath several times throughout the week, and That morning, we never washed him. That meant that we were not going to take him with us, leaving him home alone with my pigeons. 

Not yet having any imagery of disaster, I got everything together to head out on the road.

Anytime you go anywhere, there's always something you forget. Usually it's about six miles into the ride. Yes, remembering my ear pieces that I put on to charge, as well as my denture adhesive. That got me to thinking about the dog- alone with my pigeons who have free reign in and out of their pen.

This is the first time I've ever went away for any length of time, leaving the birds alone and able to roam. 1:11

Flashes in my mind of graphic details began coming. Max laying dead, and the trauma and emotions of his mate. The eggs needing them, and what would happen. The improbability of ever finding another frillback like him or that she would accept. And, the price I would have to pay to make it happen...

That's when I thought about my act of killing a pigeon years ago:

We were fishing on the Grand River, north of the city, off of West River drive. Interested in catching small mouths, my friend Jim Zemiatis had his mother drop us off at North Park Bridge.

The water was muddy, as usual. The sun was mostly hidden by the clouds. The sound of automobiles travelling across the overpass was muffling the sounds of nature- the water and the birds.

Boredom soon took over, with no action from the fish and the dominance of industrial society beating on nature's doors. 

Noticing a few feral pigeons resting between the gerters, I picked up a stone and threw it at one. 

The stone flew past the bird but it remained.

Throwing another stone, I hit it. 

And since it was now injured, I continued throwing rocks until it looked dead.

That memory, I shared with Julie while we drove.

All of the guilt, and my awareness of my consciousness, my empathy for what my pigeons are feeling, and their intelligence... I couldn't help but wonder if karma would be coming for me or that maybe my worries and anxiety was that karma, reminding me of what we, as mankind, are doing to nature overall. It was a deep hurt.

In my heart and soul, I was crying for my children- as if I was the only one that they had, and that all of them were mine. It was like I was sharing the consciousness of mother nature, and all that she can feel. 1:52

2:33 Seeing the baby was nice. Everyone seemed happy, and happy to see us. 

The boys were active, as usual, eventually dragging Nick and I outside, where we first were warmed by the sun but soon frozen with cold. Felix dragged out a game with bolas and rungs to throw them at. We teamed up in pairs and played the game.

Sebastian wore a ninja outfit, while Felix was more logically prepared with his snow pants and coat with a hood. Filled with pride for seeing him appropriately self-prepared, I regretted my choice of attire especially when I second guessed myself on what to wear. I wasn't at all prepared to have to walk for gas, which I always make sure of.

The whole time there with my grandchildren, all I did was worry about the animals at home. Little did I know, Julie was talking about me and my obsession with my pigeons... and how we'd never be able to go on vacation. I can't stand leaving them for the day.

On the way home, we missed our chance for a chinese buffet, like we normally do on the way back from Dayton. All I wanted to do was go home and see everyone safe and sound. We did stop for a sandwich at McDonald's.

A few thoughts went through my head about the elderly, like the huge chunk of memory that the family loses when they get lost in the nursing care/retirement home system.

How did we become to the idea of putting our elderly in these homes where they are only forgotten- left to the abuse they might experience? Chasing the social security promise was largely a trick that broke families apart and only fueled the system.

What if I started an organization called, "Heartfelt Healing" or something, where I go around to elderly homes with a couple pigeons and a dog to visit with the elderly, letting them tell their stories and sharing their thoughts with me to record and publish in booklets called, "Forget-me-nots" or something like that?

It would be an intriguing little curiosity book intended to guilt the youth, stimulating the relationship to become regrown.

And the same thing with homeless people- vets and people lost in addiction... Go around with a bag of post cards to help them by having them jot down a note to a loved one- To maybe be found or assisted and saved from what trapped them?   

Sometimes people just need you to say "hello" to snap them out of that place in their mind that has them imprisoned.  PTSD is like that.

Use the relationship with the animals as a tool to let them open the doorway.

 6:15 Max is watching Julie make a snack. He's standing on the pizza pan that I use as a lid. It is hanging over the edge of the surface, becoming tipped by his weight as he steps closer to the edge to fly. The pan falls to the floor after he takes flight. 

Bernie is pestering him but Max moves away, avoiding the need to put him in his place.

Dinner was served when Julie got home. It was fresh boiled rice, and the last of the pork from the other day with just enough leftover for my omelette tomorrow. After turning the rice down to simmer, onions and sweet peppers were sauteed, adding the pork last. 

With just enough gravy for the meal, it turned out good but the rice could have gone a few more minutes.

Rocky was wanting out of his cage so, I let him out to play. He went right for Riley, chasing him around and bobbing his head up and down. The pigeons watched them from the top of the cabinet crown.

When I made servings, I added the tailings to his bowl after picking up the kibble from around the bowl while scolding him that he's eating it. I wondered if there was hair and lint for a moment but I had vacuumed earlier. 

Putting the bowl under the coffee table, I sat down to eat mine.

Rocky comes running up to Riley for an attack, lunging about a foot or more in a leap. He bites at Riley, laying across the bowl of food.

Riley growls and Rocky goes at him again.

I've never seen Rocky act this way, wondering if he's mad because he's hungry too or if he's violating Riley the way Riley does when I feed Rocky, eating his food? 

Going right to the fridge, I get a pepper and chop it up for him but when I give it to him, he refuses. 

Now I have to wonder about the whole relationship. Animal husbandry, I think it's called. 6:36

There's a warm front moving through, with a bunch of rain, that's supposed to last several days but not a week. It's going to make it good for working on the new loft and nesting boxes. That will help take my mind off of the frillbacks eggs, and my anguish over whether I ruined them with the heater like the archangel's.

My concerns won't be on eggs at all. Most likely, I'll be worried about the condensation all over my bike. Before I even get started, I'll have to make sure it's covered up extremely well in order to keep the sawdust and dirt off of it. The dust will get kicked up right away from cleaning up and organizing just to get the area prepped to build in. 7:10

8:59 Laying in bed with a chew in. Bob Hearts Abishola is on television. Riley does his thing with throwing the candy cane toy he got in his stocking. 

"Can i shut it off?" she asks.

Riley keeps shoving the toy into my hand.

"I'm not watching it. I'm making notes in my journal." 

She turned it off and the room went black but for the red glow of the led light on the TV, and the digital clock.

The field of locusts sound ringing in my ears layered the drone from the fan again. The sound of my own frequency. 

Riley barks to go out. 9:11 

9:17 My spirit tells me that I made a mistake when I shared a text convo in my blog. The content within the text was supporting evidence to my claim of what happened before the police came to my house to take me away. It also held compliments and sentiments of serious value. 

It never occurred to me to redact my friend's name. And, I hadn't stopped to consider asking if it was okay. 

The way it ties into the whole story, and how it impacted me- all of the power it seemed to fill me with when I needed a lift... The very lift I get when I see her pop in on my lives. And now absence and pining like the cooing of a male pigeon with his nest offering. 

It wasn't with a selfless heart, I see now. Sharing a love note with the boys that was only meant for you...

Some people would simply call it over-thinking or that I am reading something into it but I believe that It's an example of the development of emotional intelligence, the spirit, consciousness. Simple consideration given by contemplating the variables and complexities of emotions, to empathize for added perspectives in understanding. 

And there are some who would simply say that I am too sensitive, which is the operative word- sensitive. In order to become sensitive, you must shut out the world while you focus on what you feel. This is a world where you will find the real wars, the real demons. The things that show you how easy you had it when you were ignorant of the consciousness- the actual things that make you a man, an individual.

16 days and it will be 2 years sober. I've got to think about a special show for that anniversary. Rarely, do I think much about it but I really am thankful to have my sobriety. I am also, thus far, fortunate that it hasn't been a battle. I don't ever want to go back.  

Time to focus on my spirit. 9:42 PM