Of Night Screaming & The Socialist Party

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written anything on this, or any, blog. There hasn’t been any writing on Facebook, either, until lately, due to an inexplicable ban based on some security issue. Whatever. I’m back on Facebook, so I get to talk to all my friends and comrades again, which is wonderful.

As I ponder what to write, two things come to mind. One is my recent resignation from the Socialist Party USA, an organization of which I’ve been a member for 28 years. Why? It’s a long story. It’s depressing, and tough to get used to the idea that I’m no longer a member. That may seem odd to you, but I’ve met some fantastic comrades in that party, and over the years have had some unique and positive experiences. That’s all gone now. They know why, and most (save two or three) don’t seem to give a rat’s ass that I left. That’s fine. At this point in my life I have problems that require my attention. I’m attending to them. I still detest capitalism.

Depression is a terrible thing, and I’ve had my share of that these past few weeks. Thankfully, electro-convulsive therapy at a Boston hospital has really helped. Some unusual events have haunted me lately. Among them is panic attacks, often in the middle of the night when I’m trying to sleep. Is there someone in my apartment, which is small, that I do not know about? Perhaps hiding in the closet, or around the corner in the living room? Of course not, but such a feeling of terror overwhelms me. I’ve awoke screaming after having dreams that instill feeling that you wouldn’t believe. Sheer horror. This is beginning to pass now. My pets, all of whom sleep on or next to me every night, are very disturbed by my night terrors. They look at me like, “What the Hell, dude?” Who could blame them.

Do you ever have this problem?

Part of all this may be due to PTSD suffered from a hospitalization in April. Again, a long story about how I would have died without medical intervention (A friend called the cops for a “wellness check”). Apparently, I had a stroke of some kind that briefly left me unable to tell time or dial a phone. It passed. I was comatose when they slid me into an MRI coffin and I woke up, and was hysterical, not knowing where I was or what the Hell was going on. That sort of thing stays with a fellow. I almost died? I was hospitalized against my will (again), the pills I took caused a stroke? No, no, no…that is some scary shit and it may have changed me forever. Partially in a good way, in that suicide no longer has any appeal for me. But also in a very bad way. Moments of panic and sheer terror that I didn’t experience before. Not a day goes by when, for a moment, or two, or five, I don’t wither into my favorite chair in my apartment and am so afraid…of what, I don’t know.

That’s all for now. I’m hoping that I’ll have more interesting things to write about and will do so more often. Thank you.

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About Darren W. Lyle

I'm certifiably insane (I have the paperwork), collect old typewriters (got one?) and am 45 years old. I've 3 pets, of course, and have thoughts. Some aren't good, some are. some are funny, some are just there, but I'll post them when I'm of a mind to.
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