When at my lowest, the best thing I did for myself was become grateful. I would find one thing to be grateful for each day.
Grateful that I found a good size cigarette butt in a VA ashtray.
Grateful that there was an extra roll of toilet paper I could swipe.
Grateful that I had a roof over my head.
Grateful I had a door and a lock.
It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible and I truly believe that it made me a better person, and enriched my relationships with other people.
During those low years I practiced savoring moments and trying to commit them to memory, because those moments are fleeting and when down, out and alone I could pull those memories up and put myself inside them.
Don’t get me wrong my PTSD was new to me and I was raging and flashing back and fighting the suicide whisper and all the other ugliness that it brings. I just made sure to take a moment and think of something I was grateful for. Somedays I just thanked God for sending me an ass of a person to deal with so I had an opportunity to work on my anger management. Even if I wasn’t feeling it, I did it anyway.
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