#THEf-ingKIND
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We Fall-0 the -Â
“I told her to do that…”Â
Isn’t that where the bad choices start happening? The ones in, YOU GUESSED IT…high-school fucking musicals. - This is also what I do in order to try and make hard situations, or “discussions with my damn self” a little less harsh. Some call it C-PTSD and I say, why not just call it PTSD, but I also told my therapist that calling it that felt to much like I had been to “war”. Technically, I’ve just been to different kinds of war. Which is also why I am sitting here, healing by blog war, with my peeps behind/and _in _front of me.Â
Maybe we can ease into this one. Lets start with GENERATIONAL TRAUMA. That term came from my newest, and soonest to bounce, neighbors. She/he “taught” me A LOT more than I saw coming. Honestly. I went to jr.high with the wife, and met the hubby by secretly telling the hubs/wifey that I had a weird kind of stalking PTSD, which, to be fair, also falls into the physically abusive relationship world that I had previously stayed in for entirely fucking-to0-long. Anyways, a  term, that should be coined by them, he, and her&her husband share a different kind of trauma. A different kind of “generational trauma”  than the one that me and my family have gone through. Now, lets rock with the orig. f-ing bLOX. I had to go around. Long story short, I made it back to work late, but probs just in the nick-of-time for my next meeting.Â
There was a reason that I had to go around that day. It was a tragic accident that I really don’t know the details of. What I do know is that one person lost their life that day, and they were survived by their rents. From my perspective, from the "me getting pissed off at my 'fake math' time being cut short", I think it is safe to say that it could have been someone f-ed up on bad decisions, or it could have been an distracted by-stander. And sometimes, the first responders need a fucking-minute to go sit and hold the little babes DURING their fucking SHIFT...WITH their squad sitting out front.
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