the red dots

this text is written from one deep bottom of my PTSD reality.

it is mine.  

it should be valid too. 

some of my PTSD has to do with red dots on my skin.

when these dots trigger me, i enter into a physiological shock. when the triggers last, i stay at the threshold of shocks and i experience them several times a day. an arrow comes in, clouds form in my body and mind, my whole body looses strength, it is like it suddenly becomes dust. 

heat is generated, my skin can feel hot and going into dermatitis, my tinnitus can go up, fear travels and i almost explode. the being feels fully abandoned and in life danger. 

the mind dissociates to try to escape the dangers of this red dot reality. it gets dark and suicidal, disconnected from love and from others. maybe this is the fundamental state of shame and/or dysphoria.

when i ask my skin what the dots are, the skin does not reply. when i look at my mom's red dots, i panic. i have to wait to see if other dots show up at night or in the morning. the submissiveness asked to test if is becoming unbearable. do you understand?

what if? well, if this is it, then, i do not think i would be able to cope. then what? i do not have the courage to jump from a bridge. 

today, i could not look at my mom's skin. she is deep in Alzheimer's journey and likes touch attention, so i have been able to "play doctor" with her yesterday to look at her body and she liked it. but today, i just could not. 

i have a new red dot on one of my toes. maybe it is it. maybe it is a manifestation from the inflammation i have in the front part of this foot. a mysterious inflammation that probably speaks to my general state. it has been with me for 2 weeks now or more. no, it is not a bruise.

i remember how hard i worked in 2017, 2020, 2021, 2022, while slowly losing the ability to cope but still having corners of it, just enough to think straight at times, take action, continue my art, maybe, take decisions, and all ended well. but now, my spirit is broken. the boundary between your reality and mine is both broken and so solid that it is unbreakable. 

noise, judgements, transphobia, ableism, abuse, dismissal, rejection, smells, isolation, family harshness have piled up. all the "bonjour madame" are nothing compared to the addition of. all this. no, i am not playing victim. this is my life from a double lens: my reality (PTSD + other neurodivergence) and the system's mainstream reality.


if there is no love outside of therapy and a safe spot on this earth, then, i should choose to die.

if my connection to Horus and drawing can be my path, then, i would like to ask the universe to let it unfold with peace. 

i never thought i would start to ask for clemency and support from the universe, from the emptiness, the void, light, unknown other universes. i have always tried to ask for the support of friends.

i bow to the power.

still, i rebel.

i want less pain.