Easter Blues

There is some information on the background of Easter at “The Spring Equinox” — https://ritualabuse.wordpress.com/2012/02/13/the-spring-equinox/

On a good day, I don’t much like to write. This is because I once had a job as a technical writer, and the engineers who had to sign off on my work were impossible. They didn’t think it was important, so they tossed it on their desks and ignored it. I had to nag them mercilessly. Finally, they would glance through it and hand it back. I dealt with that by putting ridiculous things in several places to catch their attention. It caught their attention but also annoyed them no end. They got back at me by criticizing my choice of words, my every comma. That sure took all the joy out of doing a good job.

Now the days before Easter are not good days. The Internal Committee of Annoyed Engineers is joined by a large group of cult people telling me not to talk, not to write, not to let anybody know what went on. Their threats drown out the relatively reasonable voices of the engineers. I have, therefore, written nothing for this blog entry until the last minute. (Oh, and then I forgot to post it!) I wish I had gotten it over with a week ago, but I didn’t.

To add to my misery, I did something to my back and it hurts when I stand, walk, or lie down. I’m confined to the chair in front of the computer; my writer’s block is therefore always right in front of me. Plus, I have cabin fever and am quite grumpy.

I haven’t forgotten, though, that it used to be much, much worse. I remember the endless nightmares, the body memories, the terrible images that flashed in front of my eyes at random times. I remember being afraid of everybody and everything and feeling suicidal day and night. I thought “This will be my life from now on, and I do not think I can bear it one more minute.”

I was wrong; that wasn’t my life, it was “just a phase” of my life. If somebody had told me that, it would have taken a lot of self-control not to scream at them that they didn’t know what they were talking about and they were cruel to tell me such a blatant lie. When you are in so much pain, a second expands into eternity and the idea of possible change disappears. But slowly, the pain abates and things shift and you wake up one day and realize that things are different.

I am grateful for the changes — grateful that I am not suicidal, grateful that I am not flooded with flashbacks, and grateful that the things that are bothering me are minor annoyances. It’s normal to have writer’s block and a bad back and I know that and welcome the peace that has come to replace the agony.

I hope all of you had an easier time of these hard days than you did in the beginning and that next year it will be still a little easier.