It’s all about the words. It always was.
Only I didn’t know it at the time.
I wandered around for most of my life with a pen and a piece or two of paper. A battered journal accompanied me across Ireland. I wrote my way through the Soviet Union. I always turn to writing in the night, those small hours between midnight and dawn that seem the darkest. Before I was aware of my complex PTSD I used writing as a way to manage my demons. The slender thread of ink across a page provided a lifeline more than once.
ThinkingTooLoud
A blog devoted to Complex PTSD. Promoting better understanding, community and recovery.
Better Understanding Complex PTSD
The Thinking Read
Writing about writing. This is where the other half of my efforts go.
Poetry: The Original Soul Food
Outta Left Field : Political Analysis
Survivors’ Voices
A collection of essays written by other survivors, an anonymous platform for them to tell their stories.