I was once one of the undead. This site was written chronicling my recovery. Some people think it is too personal. I nearly took it down, but then I met someone struggling from PTSD who may have read this site. I put it back up.
Having recovered, this is no longer important to me. Yet it was center most at the time. It’s like being in the hospital with a broken leg– centermost of my world at the time, but afterward, forgotten. This is the journey of my discoveries while I recovered. None of this is important to me anymore …
I [used to] live between life and death, neither fully alive nor completely dead.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not one of those zombie stories where partly decomposed bodies walk around trying to recruit others by biting them. No, if you were to see me or others like me, you would not be able to tell us from those who are fully alive. Nevertheless, we live in a different world: a world few outsiders can understand. I did not realize I was a member of this large group – made of over one third of our society – until recently, when I finally met others who welcomed me.
I was welcomed into a colony of fellow undead. At first, I was uncomfortable around them. Uncomfortable for myself and afraid of their reactions toward me. I was fortunate. I found refuge.
This is rare. Few men find safe people where they can begin to live again.
People like me live in a world of pain and torture, of doubt and self-sabotage.
The uninitiated can never understand this by intentionally trying to experience what has happened to us. After all, there is a big difference between someone purposefully running in front of a bus and an innocent person getting struck from behind.
We neither desired nor asked for these experiences. Our lives cannot be mimicked through television and movies. No one can simulate this death through the reading of books. No video game can capture it. There is no study or dream that comes close to the stark nightmare of our lives.
Understanding our past and empathizing with our feelings helps but this touches on only a part of who we are.
Those of us who are undead have been shaken to the very depths of our souls. Shaken in a way no outsider can ever comprehend – unless it happens to them. Then they die inside becoming one of us: The walking undead.
Our past affects our present as well as our future. Our old life ended and another began: one that spirals downward indefinitely – dead, yet alive – with no hope of ever returning to who we once were or could have been.
There was a time when I was alive – we all were: young and innocent; swinging on swings, playing in the playground with our friends, listening to birds singing, smelling spring, feeling the soft rain.
Life was wonderful.
But then it happened. It happened to all of us who are now undead. It happens at varying ages by varying people: toddlerhood, pre-teen and teen, young adult and adult: by family, friends and strangers. We die inside yet we continue to breathe and walk.
Our friends claim we changed, but we cannot tell. We cannot remember what we were like before. (We cannot remember yesterday. Time froze for us.) We cannot remember who we were.
All we know is that our former friends desert us and we are left reliving those tragic events forever in our minds – the shadowy world of the undead: alone, with overwhelming memories that haunt and torture us: day after day.
We become half dead, half alive, caught in the world between who we were and these haunting memories.
We are alone.
So very alone.
Some people say we have no emotions.
However, the truth is quite the opposite.
Because of our experiences, our emotions are greatly enhanced.
Our emotional tanks are filled and overflowing, but there are no words to express the depths of these feelings. There is no release from our agonies.
When we attempt to share, our feelings explode out.
We sound mixed up and convoluted.
We are not understood.
It overwhelms our listeners.
They desert us: adding to the pain.
Many times we ourselves do not understand these intense feelings.
It is like tasting soft drink syrup without the carbonated water – no one can tell what the true flavor is until it is mixed properly. But our mixers are broken – so we shut down. We stop trying to share with other people.
This isolation is dangerous.
Without help and guidance, we become very unstable.
Yes, without others welcoming us into an “undead colony”, we become dangerous to ourselves and to others. With all this emotion pent up inside we are not able to think clearly.
Deserted by our friends, we are alone.
We welcome unsafe people because of our intense need for someone.
We do not comprehend they are unsafe.
Our need is too great.
These abuse us further and we do not recognize this. In our confusion, we are more likely to marry an alcoholic, someone who does not believe what we believe, a controller or other unsafe people.
When left to ourselves, we have greater occurrences of mental health issues, bipolar and multiple personalities, depression leading to suicide. One writer says we have a ticking time bomb inside us.
Indeed, we hurt deeper. We love more. We are lonelier. We hope more and we desire more. Just like inserting a flashlight bulb into a house socket (if it were possible) we are quickly overwhelmed. We either blow up or we shut down.
It takes a long time to learn how to regulate all the emotions we experience every day – the memories constantly haunting us – but when we do learn, we are more sensitive and gentler then outsiders.
The point is there is help.
We the undead are still alive.
Today, we undead are learning how to take advantage of these sensitivities. We are uniquely able to help others trapped in this undead world.
Together, we learn to release our emotions and sort through our confusion.
The only way to make it through this is together.
Our first step is recognizing our need and finding help.
We, the undead, have experienced a life that no one was supposed to have ever experience. Together, we can learn to use these experiences to our advantage. If you are part of the undead,
Join us.
Whether your trauma comes from Domestic Violence, Rape, Abuse, the agenizing experiences of War, floods, fire, theft or any other Traumatic Stressors, (Trauma is Trauma) join our group and recover your health.
I am an undead male.
Men, don’t wait thirty or fifty years like most of us. Don’t let your life be wasted. Join our colony, today.
ceg
Really liked this post, thanks
Keep it coming! hhjyubcvs
I just added another page called “reality”, i wonder if addictions as are a result of not being able to cope with reality. ceg