ULOG 5: PTSD, Death, Worry, Hope, and Prayers

@bxlphabet took this photo during Comicon is San Diego this year. He was supposed to go to a steemit comicon meetup the next day but instead he went the night before and was then "too tired" to meetup with people who support him, care about him, could help him, and really wanted him to be at the meetup.

He doesn't go to events very often and they are hard for him even if they are good. He tells me his clothes are too old and dirty and don't fit, and that his hair is too long. His life was not supposed to be like this.

Then somehow, about a week after the meetup was supposed to happen, due to his terrible financial situation and a couple of other factors, a miracle occurred. My son posted his first ulog:

• about my obesity
• how it caused his severe ptsd
• his financial situation at that time

It's hard for him to talk about this and I was so proud of him.

The upshot from that post, was that various steemers helped him financially so that he could stay in his apartment.

This was such a huge relief. My son was already homeless for five years and tells me he is too old to do that again.

Now we had some breathing room to work with and he did not have to leave his apartment where he has lived for two and a half years. It is a really nice place and very affordable for San Diego if either one of us had any money.

If he would post on steemit and help me in other social media for my work, I feel like we could make it. The generosity of everyone here and the great response to his work always gives me hope. My son is a much better writer and photographer than I am, and excels in many forms of drawing and painting.

Caleb was overwhelmed by the support for his post and told me he would try to post more. He and I both know other young people fearing the loss of their obese parents. My son's story is powerful and other obese parents need to hear it.

One of my son's "second mom's" from the town he grew up in has already died of obesity. She got to the point where all of her bodily systems failed. This is the fate of eight hundred thousand Americans each year. This lady's son was my son's "little brother" in high school. He is fighting his own lonely battles now. When we went to that sad and untimely funeral my son told me, "That could have been you, Mom."

A month after posting his ulog, my son was gone. I don't really know what happened, but he was so angry with me and blocked me in a fury on all social media at the end of August. He seemed to think I took the money that steemit had given him, when it actually went to the landlord. I have not been able to reach him since and can't even read his last message to me now.

My son's landlord wrote to me a couple of days after my son blocked me and told me she was going to help him with bus fare and some work around the place to try to help him find real work, and get aid, or whatever else. Her closing remark was that he no longer wanted me involved in his life and that I would not hear from her again.

She does not understand that he has ptsd and does not sleep. He is afraid of things that a strong, smart, young man should not be afraid of. Drugs don't help and he won't take them anyway. He had some counseling that was every two weeks; it opened up old wounds, and made things worse.

He does better when he is in support groups and actively trying to heal himself with peers. But I do not think he is doing that now.

Since I lost contact with my son, I have been worried sick and praying continually that he would be safe. He is 25 years old and already has at least 15 of his close friends dead - all from tragic circumstances. I fear every moment hearing about another one dying, especially my own.

The town I was stupid enough to raise my son in has the second deadliest suicide bridge in the us. I never knew how much hate I could have for an inanimate object until I realized the scope of the deaths. Why I did not move my son to safety at that moment, I will never know.

One my son's best friends who was one of "my kids" jumped and died. One of MY best friends from that town jumped and died while I was in Bangkok. I see them both these people I love in my minds eye at unexpected times. I have a whole method of screaming and crying when I need to mourn again. I do not think my son does.

Souls Leaving Coronado Bridge by Sharon French

Taken while screaming at God

Over 400 people have jumped and died off this dreadful bridge and I read about it in my locals groups continually. I'm in several general groups, a "protect the bridge" group and a mental health group. Between all those groups the Coronado Suicide Bridge is always in my thoughts and often in my feed.

One time when I was getting ready to swim laps, one of my son's friends who I consider to be one of "my kids" came onto the pool deck for his lifeguard shift and made a beeline for me.

"Thank God you are here. I just saw a naked man get out of his car and jump. I was in the other lane and it was in slow motion. I couldn't stop. I need to talk to someone. I'm not sure I can work. I know how to save people. I just watched someone die and I couldn't do anything."

This kid was eighteen at the time, but I saw his little pre-school face as he talked. He was such a joyous little kid.

Now he was broken while he acted out what happened for me, and kept taking gulping deep breaths. He is a lifeguard so he did soon get it together enough go to his job up in the tower watching me swim.

Yesterday four townsfolk got out of their cars on the bridge and saved someone. The news was on all my feeds today. This happens all the time too - monthly at least - someone gets saved by someone who just happened to be driving by at the right/wrong time.

I hope they will all get help. You would not think that saving someone's life would leave such a scar, but it does.

Many people - myself included - cannot drive on this bridge. There comes a time when you
just
can't
drive
on
the
bridge
anymore

It is tall and sometimes I would see it after I left town and moved to San Diego. Then just the glimpse of it would make me feel sick.

San Diego Coronado Bridge View from National City

The rest of my son's friends who are dead now did not jump off the bridge; they died in other equally horrifying ways. The first one died in eighth grade and the last was a couple of years ago.

During the few years after I got thin and healthy, the kids started to go quicker. During the first year after high school graduation, two of my son's closest friends since elementary school each committed suicide and it went downhill from there. My son grew afraid to look in the computer in the morning in case he had more terrible news.

One thing you are not supposed to say to people who suffer with pstd is:

"Don't worry, your fear will probably not come true."

It already did come true - and it most certainly can come true again.

For a while we were going to funerals constantly and seeing all the same kids again - minus another one. The CHS Class of 2011 is not the only one to be so cursed. The kids in town grow up knowing the bridge is right there. I once heard a young lady speaking with a bunch of kids in my son's room.

"I might jump too. Maybe my mom will notice me for once."

She was fifteen then and still with us today.

But now - my son is not dead. He is alone in his pain. He misses his friends. He can't sleep. He screams from nightmares. He is afraid of everything.

And when people try to help him, he rejects them.

Yesterday I got an email from the landlord; a month after telling me she would not contact me again. I was terrified to open it; in fear of what it might say. I knew how my son felt when the deaths were coming so fast.

I guess the news was the best I could have hoped for. He owes her more money than he did, and he doesn't have it. He has to leave on Monday if he does not pay her.

OK God. You answered my prayer. My son is alive. Where there is life, there is hope. Thank you for all the many blessings I receive.

But!

Yes, God there is a but...

Please help my son heal. He was perfect when I got him and he still is.

~ @fitinfun

EDIT: This just came into my feed as I was getting ready to post. Yesterday someone was saved, today someone died.

I will think of all the African Americans I know in that town until I am sure this was not one of them. This happens to me every single time until I know who it was. Several of my son's friends could be this man. Please God, let him have peace.