Santiago de Compostella

One of those instincts that has kept me alive through diverse depressions and fits of suicidality is, perhaps counterintuivly, one that I have worked heartgrindingly hard with in therapy to change.

Living with post traumatic stress syndrome is living in a world of almost constant alert. All beeings will fight, freeze or flee in situations percived as dangerous. What I've read of theory on the subject seems to indicate that humans will, depending on personality, be prone to (only) one of these. My personal experience though, has thaught me that it is quite unpredictable which alternative my reptile brain will choose in any given (percived) dangerous situation.

Now, that instinct that I've worked with in therapy is my flight instinct. While simply walking out on conflict situation is a skill (instinct) that I think many would do well to make part of their habitus... it does become somewhat of a problem when your daily life becomes a constant conflict&struggle to survive. Thus I've packed up and left close to a hundred times - and only after I got married did I stay anywhere long enough to actualy get help.

The 14th of April I will fly (flee) to Bordeaux, and from there I will walk approximatly 1500 kilometers to Santiago de Compostella, and on to the end of the world. It is, I guess, one of those change something or fucking die, bitch imperative actions. But hopefully it is a bit more constructive than earlier evasive actions I've submitted myself to.

I did the walk once before; at great benefit both physicly and mentaly. But while walking with my mother did great things for my compassion; I did learn that such a venture is best done alone. The pressure such a trip for one such as I is (I do, perhaps vainly, belive) almost impossible to comprehend for a healthy individual.

The only reason I know I can survive is that constant indulging of my flight instinct. The most paramount rule of the pilgrim (exept walking on your own steam et cetera) is that you can never stay more than one night in any one place. You always have to move on. Thus I will survive the trip by fleeing every morning - and it is no doubt that I will be better for the 'exercise'.

Ohhh... But I'm not looking forward to this. I dread the physical and mental pain, and simpler parts of me keep asking the higher faculties why, oh why do you hate me, yourself, so much that we have to endure such torture?