Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Demon Doctor

Last week I had an appointment with my psychologist who is helping me to deal with my Demons from the past. It is only the second or third visit with this particular professional, so, I have not reached that trusting rapport that I believe is essential to successful treatment of my PTSD. I had had a very bad day due to the pain associated with my third back surgery and was not in any way able to make that appointment. It has gnawed at me for missing the appointment because I want to establish that trust to benefit from his expertise. This is the second time I have missed an appointment and I hope the therapist will not hold it against me for my lack of holding up to my end of the bargain. I really need help after all these years. My Demon is (was) a retired fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force and has been relentless in His pursuit to totally control my life from the other side. Does this sound crazy? Yes. Am I crazy? Probably. He was, for almost 30 years able to make my life hell on earth. How is this possible? The Colonel was able to control my sub-conscious mind. Was it really the Col. doing it? No. It may as well have, though. I had no control. My terror took place during my sleep where my sub-conscious mind was the Big Dog. For almost 30 years I tried and found the best working solution to my problem. Which, by the way, created even worse problems. I found that narcotic drugs would quiet my Demon. The price of the utopia cost me well over half of those 30 years spent in the Alabama prison system. I have 2 sons and was in prison when both were born. They grew up without a daddy, basically. I can also attest that prison is no fun place to be. Why couldn't I control my dreams ( nightmares of unimaginable proportions ) to the point of sanity? I was insane. I was terrified of sleep. I was unable to have any relationship with anyone except for the dope man. We had a good relationship. I believe in God , so, why didn't God help me. The Lord knows I prayed for his guidance. How could a dead man cause my life to spiral totally out of control? I need to retell the story. For my benefit. And soon! thanks, theblogmeister