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I will never understand how I managed to climb my way to the other side.
Unfortunately it never fails that I am hanging by a thread. Just when I think I have calmed the beast another demon manages to rile it up.
I was diagnosed with PTSD five years ago. Slowly but surely I had gotten my triggers under control.
I hate triggers. I never new what would set me off. Because sometimes it was such a simple thing that would send me into a full blown panic attack and cause flashbacks, I just knew I was insane.
When I had flashbacks my brain would change my surroundings and take me straight back to the traumatic day. I would actually hallucinate. I would become quite violent. It was like I was trying to save myself and fight off the evil that consumed me.
My mom was my handler when this would happen. She would make sure I couldn't hurt myself and would make sure everyone would leave me alone. She would let me fight my demons privately while waiting in the wings to rescue me when it was over.
My ex husband couldn't understand this even though my mother explained to him how to deal with me. He couldn't handle me and would take offense to my panic attacks. He perceived them as an attack on him. He would engage and in turn I would attack him. I realized I needed help when the police ended up being called once.
I sought counseling and learned I was actually quite normal.
My counselor helped me recognize the things triggering a flashback and how to calm myself without hurting others. My ex would never stop trying to engage during my attacks so I had to learn not to engage myself.
I thought it was over when I finally left my marriage for other reasons.
I was wrong.
I didn't realize just how traumatized I was by the events that transpired in my failed marriage.
I recently began dating an amazing man. On our first date he asked me what the catch was because I was so wonderful. I told him it was my PTSD, but it was pretty much under control.
I hadn't had a panic attack in almost 4 years.
A few weeks ago when I was sick, I suffered my first full blown panic attack. My roommate's daughter was in the house.
I called my mother to let her know I was having one and there was a person in the house. I was afraid I would hurt her. My mom was able to talk me through it and I was able to avoid any violence.
I started to have another one Sunday. I was with my boyfriend. Fortunately I was able to keep it under wraps. I did finally admit to him I was beginning to have one and what the trigger was.
I hate PTSD. It isn't fair I am suffering from it and it isn't fair the people I love have to see it. It makes me want to push people away, to crawl into a hole. I just wish I could erase the memories. I wish I could unsee the things I've seen.
I wish the ghosts would leave.
It's time to go back to therapy.
