I have ptsd.
At the moment.
I write to get that shit out, to give it ‘a voice’. To get relief and clarity.
My earliest memories are dark. I have had night mares as long as I can remember. I have never slept longer than two to three hours, unaided.
I see danger in every situation. Even the good ones.
I look for motive and intent in others long before I can physically see them. I am and have always looked for ‘the angle’ that is being played. It is my understanding that there is always a hidden agenda to another’s actions and the only way to protect myself is to stay one step ahead.
Apparently this is PTSD. But this is my normal.
Living this way was bearable until I got physically sick and couldn’t control what was happening to my body and my mind. I therefore cut myself off from everyone and everything.
As at April 21st 2015 (date of publishing; one month after commencing my blogging expedition) ~ I am no longer employed, I don’t drive, or walk out of the house and down the road, if I don’t have too; I don’t like surprises, I get startled easy, my mind races and my heart pounds way too fast for the amount of energy I ‘don’t’ exert; my palms sweat when I feel anxious; my head aches and my chest tightens when I feel too enclosed or trapped or feel like I have no choice…to name but a few.
So, this is not my ‘feel good’…when I made it through the cloudy skies, to the silver lining and over the rainbow, I turned into a well-paid self-help guru…story. This is all the shit in between…good and bad, that got me to this point.
Every ptsd peep has a gory story that goes with the title and while it’d be nice to have a ‘moving on’ theme song whilst I build a bridge that goes over it all, that’s not the point.
These are my mundane horrors.
The blah de blah of life, that goes along, one shit fest after another. The mundane horrors that there are no support groups or campaigns to stamp out and eradicate for. The mundane stuff that peeps say…’just get over it already’, too. The stuff the partner cringes at; the stuff the healers say need to be ‘let go of’; the stuff the psychologists say ‘to breathe through’. Oh as well as all the mundane daily hells that go hand in hand with ‘getting over it already’, ‘moving on’, ‘letting it go’, ‘breathing it through’; feeling my breath stop, my heart race, my hands sweat, my eyes blurr, my stomach lurch, my chest tighten…all that shit too. All the shit that should be talked about, but instead gets left in the frozen food section next to the jelly that no one buys.
But I have always fought back, one way or another. And this is me fighting again. As I have always done, in my own way.
I want to be able to leave the house, of my own free will; to get enjoyment from life; to be content with who I am. I don’t want to ‘reintegrate’ back into a society that I was never really part of to begin with. I still believe the world is a dark dark place. Especially for the vulnerable. Maybe I may change my mind by the time I’m done; or maybe I’ll just accept who I am – completely.
~ ME ~