Clogged, Stuck, Trapped

So, my PTSD has been flaring up over the last several months. I know that my first trigger was the ER episode. I thought I had handled it well. I thought because I could watch the episode later that I was better. What a crock, it was just my brain faking me out again.

Then, the billboard was put up on the road I take to work. Every morning, I see that sign on the road. A few weeks later, a new billboard was put up on the road I take home from work. Great, now they've got me coming and going. Then they started their direct mail campaign. It's looking me in the eye from my mailbox when I get home. Then they started the TV ads. This week, it made the front page of the local paper. I feel bombarded and trapped. I can’t get away from the reminders.

"It's a suite experience!"

All I can think is its dangerous.

Watch out.

Don't go there.

It's NOT SAFE!

Run!

Trapped!

Hide!

Fear!

Escape!

Pain!

I'm anxious, edgy, and fidgety. I’m not sleeping well at night. I had still been keeping the nightmares at bay, but last night they came back with a vengeance.

I realized things weren’t quite right back in May. I told my husband that I NEEDED to go away on vacation. I thought a change of scenery, a change of routine would help, and it did for a while. But, like always, it was a temporary fix. A few weeks ago, he told me, “you just don’t seem like yourself”. The warning lights started flashing bright green and red. I’M BACK!

I don’t want you back. I want ME back. I thought I had conquered you. Why won’t you leave?

I’ve lived with PTSD my entire life. My father is a Vietnam Vet. I was born only two years after he completed his second tour of duty. I didn’t know what it was called, but my memories are loaded with memories of my father’s struggles with PTSD. I watched him have flashbacks. I watched him fly into a rage over something that should have been trivial. I lived with his skewed perceptions of the world, of safety, of his belief structure.

And, now I struggle to make sure I don’t create the same environment for my daughter. I’m in counseling for her and my husband. I sought help to break the cycle of this illness. I will not allow my home to be a place of fear and anger.

My counselor thinks that this is old stuff. I have to find a way to get past the state of fear that I lived in as a child that the trauma of my daughter’s birth dredged up from the depths of my mind. I must find a way to find safety within myself because the outside world will never be 100% safe.

I must not fail.