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    Burned by the Memory
    Burned by the Memory
    Burned by the Memory
    Ebook65 pages45 minutes

    Burned by the Memory

    By Ultima Magus

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    About this ebook

    A book meant for those in need of advice on how to overcome their own traumatic pasts. Trauma can be caused by many things (auto accidents, sexual molestation, mentally abusive relationships, war, etc.), and once the trauma is gone, learning how we can regain mastery over our lives feels impossible. This book is written as part memoir and part self-help advice from myself as well as other survivors of trauma. The curious reader on self-reflection, psychology, neuroscience, or therapy is also invited to read this journey of finding internal equilibrium.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherUltima Magus
    Release dateMar 23, 2017
    ISBN9781370680955
    Burned by the Memory
    Author

    Ultima Magus

    Just another dad who wanted to make big on all his dreams by becoming a writer, poet, and historian. I don't think anything is half as important as helping others and finding our voice. I'm the sort of person who has given away his last $3 to a friend.

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      Book preview

      Burned by the Memory - Ultima Magus

      Burned by the Memory

      Advice from a Survivor of Trauma

      By: Ultima Magus

      Introduction

      My story didn’t begin with a whimper; I began life with a bang.

      July 17th, 1992: the day of The Fire.

      As John Green has already let the cat out of the bag, I might as well confess that historians are really bad at naming things (the Seven Years War lasted from 1754-1763; a time span that if anyone bothers to determine how long it was would discover that it lasted a confusing nine years). So perhaps calling it The Fire has been rather simplistic and childish, but after twenty-five years I haven’t come up with a better name.

      Perhaps I started telling this story wrong; my name is Ultima Magus, and the first thing most people seem to notice is that I am a Burn Survivor.

      I came off luckier than some, and I didn’t fare as well as others. I have 3rd degree burns over 63% of my body covering every major part of my body; I still grow something of a beard and a ponytail, but I prefer to shave my eyebrows since most of them are gone anyway. I was two years old at the time, and I was being babysat by my biological mother. My mother had me when she was young, and the same irresponsible behavior which had begat me also would irrevocably change my life a second time on July 17th: drinking.

      I decided to share my story for equal measures of therapy and advice. Take or leave from my story what you want and need. If you’ve been looking for words of inspiration then maybe this is what you need to hear; if you’ve been looking for an interesting story well then I hope this story sparks some of that natural curiosity inside of you.

      The Fire

      This is where I’ll put down details of what happened on the day of The Fire.

      (Ultimately, I decided to leave this section in the format in which I first laid out this book’s outline. You know as much about the fire as I do. I just live with its aftermath.)

      Everything Else Until Now

      My earliest memories start when I was three years old; there are roughly five distinct memories that I can recall from being three years old (though much of the imagery and details have faded or been lost by now), there are another 10-20 from when I was four years old, and by the time I get to five years old the memories start to flood my vision: swinging with childhood friends, times I got in trouble, throwing up, the occasional birthday party, and so on.

      This is the time period I remember wearing a helmet/mask/visor (which I despised), and I was ordered to have lotion rubbed into my scars on a daily basis (which I loathed).

      I couldn’t stand to have lotion or sunscreen rubbed into my skin until I was 23 years old. The slimy feeling reminded me too much of being forced to sit upwards of an hour while my grandmother rubbed it into every scar I have: over half my body. My scars drink moisture like a man who has been out in the desert too long. My left arm and leg and side took up the majority of this time since each one might need two or three applications (PER DAY!).

      When I was 23 I found someone with whom I was comfortable losing myself in the sensation of having them rub/massage lotion into my body. Massaging had always been a way of showing affection in my earliest relationships, but the addition of lotion into the mix unwittingly allowed me to overcome some of the residual signs of trauma. I did this by finding a positive way to use lotion in my life in which I felt loved and relaxed as opposed to what felt like the authoritarian demand that I submit to being slathered in lotion. I didn’t understand why I needed it, and I didn’t understand that my grandmother did it because she loved me. I was a four year old child with severe burns, and it is a lot of self-reflection that has helped me to understand that my grandmother was a flawed person just like any of us.

      Time brings a lot of clarity to actions and behaviors that I

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