Is rampant. I have it. You have it. Trauma is the issue of the day. How can someone be removed enough from trauma yet treat someone for a similar traumatic situation. It's all nonsense and life does not really go on...except in fits and starts. One trauma ends only to embark on a new traumatic journey.
My first therapist had a stroke during the course of my treatment and I had to find a new therapist which was a clusterfuck of a process. I finally got a good one, by luck or tenacity. My psychiatrist was in a serious automobile accident (are we seeing a pattern?) and while he still sees me once every six months for medication checks, he is still rehabbing on his injuries, years later. Yes, damn it, it is all about me and being bereft. I think I am an albatross for therapists and psychiatrists, hanging about their collective necks as if the were the Ancient Mariner. I can't fully express the hurt I am feeling for Hyphen. And the woman who was her back-up in this case has yet to return my two phone calls. Which is pissing me off, which is making me sadder, which is trauma and fux it.
So to the collective Giraffe Lovers: what the hell should I be doing other than moving and self absorbed pity. Redundancy.
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