Man; It seems in the past more people were blogging; don't know what that means..... Maybe its a life cycle thing with online forums.
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Story writing; When I was young; very young; I watched television and movies; in those days, you had to go to the theater and you saw a few every year. At home you had 8 channels; and movies of any worth came on Friday nights or Saturday nights. In those days The original Star Trek series had been on TV for about a year. I think I watched the first episodes; maybe not the first. but close.
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So; it was a huge big deal; something to get excited about when a movie was coming out; advertisements would come on mid day suggesting a movie would come out on a Friday night in about 2 or 3 weeks; So, you had to wait.
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I saw allot of things that indicated the kind of identity I wanted when I grew up; sophisticated, intelligent, creative; a man of the world. In those days; every boy wanted to be James Bond or the Beatles. I wanted to be Ringo star when I Grew up. and I loved loved loved the Beatles movies. I wanted to be just like the Beatles. However, The first song I ever heard was in nursery school; Hey Hey with the Monkeys” By the Monkeys... One of the members recently passed away; horribly saddening to those who remember those times of bubble gum rock; rock created for children.... Things like; “ Sugar Sugar.
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Anyway; I had all kinds of things I wanted to be when I grew up; the kind of person I wanted to be; I dreamed all day long; and I thought I was in a secure neighborhood and housing situation; thought I had it made; but that was not the case; soon, everything would come crashing down; including all stabilities; for their were no stabilities; but I was to young; and did not know. And the monsters I was living with; I knew about one of them; but as a small child; I sought to stay away from her. Later it wouldn’t matter; I was doomed; but this story today is not about that.
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Stories;
So, when a child I created stories about my future; did it all day long; created stories about what I was going to do for that day, what I was going to do in the next few days; what I would be doing in the next week and month; and what I would want to be doing when became an older child and junior high and Hi school.
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non of it ever happened. I dissociated reality from the very beginning of my life and it got worse n worse; but I didnt know when a child; when a child, I spent most of my time trying to figure out safe spaces to survive. in the end; I would have no safe spaces to hide in; all would be consumed.
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However, the happiness I had was witnessing the possibility of a future and dreaming about what could be based on the contrast of what I was comparing my life to; when I got older n older, many great things would happen, including love from a family for everything I wanted to accomplish; how proud they would be of me and I of them; unfortunately, their was no family of this nature; and no friends of this nature; but I never knew.
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So, without going into more sorted anxiety and horror of the past; like I have with the other 930 other blogs; on with the show stories.
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So;. writing stories about a future that is not yet’ is hard work; I write as if its been a year since I had what I had; as if Ive been living as if; Wish fulfilled; Ive written about 500 stories; some are bigger, some much smaller on all fronts; money, women, wife, girlfriends, sex, houses, cars, vacations, careers; I write as if Ive got all these things and have had all these things for a year; when I write Im writing in history form; telling a story of the history of these things; re feeling how wonderful these experiences were. I write about my Asian wife and our vacations together, how dedicated she is to me; how she loves me; and cares for me. How she wanted me; and adores me and wants to be with me. and wanted affection from me and trusts me and is my best friend; we talk about everything and she is their to cover my back when I cant.. and so on; God sent me to love her and take care of her and she is irresistible to me. I held her, and talked softly with her in the car on the way to the ski lodge; when we got their; I slowly took the blanket from her, she smiled and kissed me with a warm reassuring glance; then well opened the doors to the car, got out and proceeded to unload the skies from the car rack. and such are my stories made in my imagination; Ill make them so loud and strong the universe has no choice but to make them real.
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Writing story after story after story of my new life. The point is; I do the work because I earn what I have to earn to fill in the gaps of my life to get it to where I want to be from where Im at; this is a long process, it fools the subconscious into thinking I have a new life; soon, the universe will fill in the gaps and attract the people and places and things Im writing about it. but it takes time and hard work; and with CPTSD; believe me it is brutal work at times; Im screaming from the pain of switching out into new thoughts; because the PTSD has my thoughts hostage.
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Ill keep it up n up n up until those stories break through bulling stories of the past; where I was de moralized and destroyed from every angle. Its not easy facing PTSD. not at all. My stories are created to confront ptsd and go beyond it into the far reaching areas of new landscapes for my life to unfold in happiness.
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I had a great identity rolling when I was a small child; its about identity; and that identity was crushed at a later date in childhood and destroyed. and now Im bringing it back; resurrecting it from within my imagination; not easy; because thoughts must become things; so, I have my work cut out for me; make those stories so strong and believable, they have no choice but to materialize.
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