What It Is Like To Live With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

The following is a compilation of notes and posts I made while in various states of mind. Therefore references to time shouldn't be read as if this was written in a single day.

Occasionally, I read what other people have to say about living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I love them all, I do- every one of those strangers. I don't know that I can describe it myself because I don't know if people can imagine being both betrayed and so aggressively protected by their own brain.

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PTSD is a demon that hurts me or snuggles me depending on too many factors to list. While we are snuggling, I have the opportunity to explain some lovely features, because it gets kicked around so much, and it deserves it, the demon, but sometimes it's not all that bad. You see, in an emergency situation, having someone with PTSD in your corner is almost always a good thing. Our brains idle so high when there is nothing going on, that when circumstances rise to the level we are already on, it actually calms us down. I suppose I could say it like this: I'm good in an emergency because I am always ready for it and when that rush of adrenaline and other chemicals throws someone else into shock, I'm still good because that state of being and me-- we're old pals.

Of course, the bad part in all of this is idling high all the time taxes my system (heart, lungs, digestive, immune, etc.), but we're not going down that road today. Today we're snuggling, after a 6 day full-on assault. For 6 days, me and my demon have kicked the living shit out of each other. Now, we are exhausted. We are wayyyy too tired to fight anymore. So, we give in to each other. We snuggle, and the demon throws a veil over me, and suddenly, the circumstances hurting me take on such a surreal feeling (dissociation). So while I am good taking care of my son, and I know he is real, and I'm not a danger to myself or anyone else, I feel a slight high, and the hardest conversation I have ever had, with my mom yesterday, doesn't feel real. My demon and I exchange acknowledgment when I say don't mind me for a while. I'm in an episode.

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While I am comforted by the veil, I can never forget that I am snuggling a demon. When that veil covers me and my emotional plug has been disconnected from the socket, my inhibitions are down, as is my filter. I could easily do or say something I wouldn't normally. If you've ever been intoxicated, you likely know something of this feeling. Now, I've been doing this for a long time, so I know my way around this place. I know to keep myself on lock down-- stay home and keep my mouth shut because now I am also on a very short fuse and with a startle reflex so exaggerated, I have actually junk-punched a supervisor. (It was an obvious accident, so nothing came of it, but I didn't like him anyway and I no longer work there, so yay, me!) Obviously, I am not the best at keeping plans, and worse, I don't explain myself to most people. It's just too much. I have also had attendance issues at work because some days, I just can't.

I might be less careful with myself in this state, but with my 5 year old... Heh. This, more than anything, is why I stay home. Lying in my veil, on the couch, I was watching him build an impressive Lego ship. A bee flew in the balcony door and right passed his little ear. He flinched and... Look, nobody is allergic to a bee sting here. Normally, I would just shoo it back out the door because it's just a honey bee. It might hurt but nobody is going to die.

My son flinched -- just slightly, just enough -- and I came off the couch as if it were a dragon breathing fire inches from his sweet baby face. I killed that thing, and I killed it hard, because not my son, not today, asshole. When it was all over but the cleaning up of little honey bee guts, I looked at my son, still whole, but looking at me exactly like I just went homicidal on a bug. Wuuups. I didn't tell him that in this family, therapy is a right of passage. So, you know, he'll be fine.

"You wanna see if that ship floats?"

"Yes!"

I filled the bathtub and sat on the floor scrolling through pictures of puppies while he had at it.

One day, I will write of the fresh hell this demon is adept at conjuring, and over time, I will share more of the journey and wisdom I have found along the way, but this is it for now because the people who can relate to it the most, well they might not remember what the hell they just read.