Why You Will Absolutely See Me With A Safety Pin

I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That is to say, I have experienced sum. shit. and it blew my mind, quite literally, in that it physically altered my brain. Anyone who has read just about anything I have ever written knows that I poke fun of it; I embrace it to the point I consider my hypervigilance one of my superpowers.

A person experiencing this symptom of PTSD will be motivated to maintain an increased awareness of their surrounding environment, sometimes even frequently scanning their settings to identify potential sources of threat. What Is the Definition of Hypervigilance?

 I let "Beastie" out to play, burn off some energy, sometimes in the form of slightly over the top humor inside my own truth. She wears me out otherwise, and she's capable of provoking laughter anyway, while on a leash, of course. It's a sort of multifaceted advantage. I do it because at one point and a few others, I knew I was going to make peace with Beastie, or Beastie was going to take me out-- one way or another. Out.

So, how does that relate to me and that safety pin? Because, yes.

-- via Snopes.com

Fighting the Stigma of Mental Illness: Your Language Means More Than You Think It Does

A Clue.

Personally, I don't deal with a lot of stigma around my mental illness. I will explain things the best I can to the sincere, but I just do not have the patience for the willfully ignorant-- and it is intentional dumbness since information about not only mental illness, but the myths and stigma around it is everywhere. However, I have had it long enough, and have known others with it long enough to not only know it exists, but to understand how the smallest seeds, such as everyday misuse of language, grow into the darkest, thorniest, and scariest forests. People suffer.

Fun With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Don't be a simpleton and take this all wrong because that would be stupid, and you don't want to be stupid. You want to be kind and supportive. Or you want to fuck off, whichever keeps your underwears from a'creeping.

Derp Is A Choice.

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.

freedigitalphotos.net

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.