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Failure or should I say fear of failure has followed me subconsciously since early childhood.
If happiness depends on being normal, thinking like an unabused person, we are doomed to failure.
Some failure is beyond our control.
My father never said a kind word to me, he criticized my every action then physically beat me severely.
The world holds so much more danger and loss for me.
My dad demanded perfection, nothing less than a great professional baseball player was acceptable.
I failed him, miserably, I was a thing to him.
I feel at risk around people, I do not trust them, do not know how to trust them.
Betrayal left a permanent stain in college, intimacy died in the face of opportunity.
People have been treacherous in my life.
Happiness for me does not involve lots of people or any somedays.
At 70, I can not change the damage, the impact on my life.
I strive to improve every day but I have avoided people, groups, crowds, and organizations.
Solitude is much safer and more fulfilling in my world.
What does happiness look like for you?
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PTSD - A Way Out.com 
Posted by rudid96 on December 27, 2021 at 11:41 pm
Before replying to today’s post, I’ve a question for you Mindful Marty. How did you navigate your trauma while involved with your sport and while among other athletes? Did you hide it? Did anyone (coaches, fellow players) comment that something was off?
I was always able to hide in plain sight. No one would guess but if one would pause, and lean in, the cracks were there. Several years ago, I happened upon a friend from my teen years. During that meeting, she was the only one who ever spoke of what she noticed.
Now, replying to today’s question, “What does happiness look like for you?” I cannot see beyond a day. However, I can recall times of happy moments. Last summer, swimming in a lake while the water was way too warm for most. Hopping on my bicycle with my dogs in tow. We explored wherever for miles and miles. Hiking in the woods and spotting a Scarlet Tanger or the infrequent Bobcat.
Posted by Marty on December 28, 2021 at 12:27 am
Professional baseball is an adrenaline, aggressive culture of competitive sport.
My ptsd was dormant, I buried many things and excelled for five years.
Then, one day going to the ballpark, became painful.
Childhood abuse and betrayal grew inside me, I quit my pro career and walked away.
I did not want to play in front of thousands any more.
I did not understand the damage that lay dormant, did not understand my symptoms.
Rudid96. I was a different animal when involved in competitive sports
I worked out longer and harder and could endure more pain.
I needed approval, craved it
Success masks trauma at times
My father was crushed
I could give a shit, left Ohio and did not go back
I did not get along with everyone on the team, I guess that was normal
I was moody, but dependable and a team player
Rudid96. Even unamused people do better with not seeing beyond today
It’s called mindfulness
Being in the moment observing not thinking
I have to work to earn those few moments like you
Nature is soothing
Animals do not need to know my name, I am hidden
Posted by Marty on December 28, 2021 at 12:36 am
Looking back Rudid, I worked so hard and long, it was a shame my abuse destroyed my career
I never looked back,
All that notoriety, success in,y lasted until the next game, next challenge, next chance at failure
Dad was not interested in me enjoying playing or my well-being.