Resplendent Horrors

[Kristen Sehr]

So this is a poem I wrote. I was very fortunate in that my latest homeless period was only brief. But the homelessness was caused by a rejection from my family, and of myself in being trans. Rejected, once again, as a human being. So I fled to the safety and horror of solitude and isolation in the remote, unforgiving desert. Far away from everything and everyone. At such times when so totally alone, all one has left is what is inside their mind. And if what inside is not good, it can really work a number on you.

 

I have PTSD. I am mired in it. Stuck. Some comes from being repeatedly victimized in being a trans woman, and some comes from the duties and missions that were once entrusted to me as a male. There is no help for me. Because of the uniqueness of my situation and for reasons I cannot go into here, there is no help. Help, in my case, is a chimera. I have tried. And was abandoned all over again.

 

I wrote this poem a few days ago, while homeless and alone in the desert. The desert and its reminders of past homelessness because I am trans, past suffering and past rejections all revisited. And the desert, another desert, where my brothers lost their lives. I should have died out there. Why am I still alive? When I died in an operating room years later, why in the world was I resuscitated, brought back to life again? So the nightmare could continue?

 

These are my resplendent horrors. Some of them.       

 

Resplendent Horrors

 

Plunging into darkness as heaven's illusions fell
Earth's foundations fled us all and doomed us all to hell
God had abandoned us, and left us all to writhe
Mission success and sacrifice, as the reaper wields its scythe.

 

Resplendent horrors dominate the ending of our lives
Dazzling in intensity before our upturned eyes
Stripped of human life possessed, the soul only remained
The soul crushed into fragments lost
As sadistic fate ordained.

 

My heart is torn with despair. Because why was I spared?

 

At night I see it all again, awake and in my dreams
The nightmares give me no respite, infinite it shall be
Cursed with endless torment and denied sufficient means
Listen closely to the silence that drowns my suffering screams.

 

Mods: If this content is deemed inappropriate then please feel free to delete it. Thank you.

 

[April Marie]

How compelling and insightful. I can share some of your emotions, certainly not all nor can I take away your burdens. Like you, I've been in positions where I should not have come out alive - in one case a comrade swears he thought he was going to watch me die on more than one occasion. I've lost friends, compatriots and comrades.  My PTSD has subsided for the most part - but I understand the nightmares and the screams.

 

I wish I could do more but offer a shoulder. That you have tremendous inner strength is evident by how you've navigated it all. Be well, my friend.

[Kristen Sehr]

4 hours ago, April Marie said:

How compelling and insightful. I can share some of your emotions, certainly not all nor can I take away your burdens. Like you, I've been in positions where I should not have come out alive - in one case a comrade swears he thought he was going to watch me die on more than one occasion. I've lost friends, compatriots and comrades.  My PTSD has subsided for the most part - but I understand the nightmares and the screams.

 

I wish I could do more but offer a shoulder. That you have tremendous inner strength is evident by how you've navigated it all. Be well, my friend.

 

Thank you, April Marie. What you said, it means a lot to me. More than any words I can express deeply enough at the moment. Because I have been emotionally overrun. But I'll get through it. And it does help to express what is going on inside, even when doing so tears my heart out (like it did when I wrote it). Keeping it inside though, is even worse. 

 

We'll find the strength to keep going on though. For one another other. And for everyone else having to deal with the same issues, in dealing with the of wounds of rejection... abandonment... hatred... loneliness... loss... and everything else.

 

[April Marie]

We can do anything, even survive the terrible hurt and loss, with sisters and brothers who help us to get up and move forward. Stay strong, sister. We are your oasis of strength when you need to be refreshed.

[Kristen Sehr]

13 hours ago, April Marie said:

We can do anything, even survive the terrible hurt and loss, with sisters and brothers who help us to get up and move forward. Stay strong, sister. We are your oasis of strength when you need to be refreshed.

 

My heartfelt thanks for the caring and kindness, April Marie. ((Hugs)) 😁

 

I need to add a postscript to the poem I wrote. Not every single day & night is as bad for me, as my poem might suggest. But when one is suffering in an incredibly depressed PTSD state like that (when I wrote it), it just seems as if the suffering will be endless. And I have had PTSD for so many years now, that the cumulative effect is hard to shake off.

 

Days are better though. Because my attention is taken with vigorous exercise (I'm a firm believer in doing that whether I feel like it or not), the wonder of (re)transitioning is amazing and then there is just the plain old everyday stuff. And the (re)transition itself has also provided such an incredible relief and calmness to my life, and is allowing me to really believe in myself as a person again. And in my future.

 

During late nights though, that is when things can get dicey. When it is quiet and there are no distractions. Then everything yet to be dealt with that still so deeply troubles me, comes back to visit. The "gift" that keeps on giving. I relive traumatic events over and over, and it is very difficult to get such thinking under control.

 

The nightmares, when I get those I really fear sleep. It has been a very long time since I slept a whole night through. But I have not turned to drugs or alcohol to self-medicate (I steadfastly refuse because I already have enough problems as it is) and there are plenty of people out there suffering with PTSD that have it far, far worse than I do. One of my closest friends (Rob C) killed himself while stateside in between combat tours of A-Stan, he had PTSD too but never reported anything to his command. Because of the stigma still then attached to it. Just so incredibly sad though, that he's gone...   

 

If I felt the same way all the time (as in my poem), then I would either be hospitalized in a long-term, locked down, in-patient psych unit, or I would be driven mad and eventually commit suicide in a moment of weakness. But I am managing to live with it, not that it is easy.

 

And now that I can finally be my female self at last, I look forward to the future rather than dreading it. 🦋