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Analogy: My Ptsd Feels Like...

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BloomInWinter

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"My PTSD Feels Like..."

...opening up a closet full of boxes and boxes of mismatched puzzles, then having all of them come crashing down into one gigantic pile...then being told I have to put them all back in the correct boxes before I leave.

UGH.
 
My PTSD feels like...a series of different lives slamming into one another, each with a horrid series of events that has ghosts in there. Screaming, yelling, whispering, insisting on being heard; day and night, that their side of the story be heard, no matter the day. The confusion is deafening, relentless, tangled up, non-stop - like a Wheel of Fortune gone a muck, stopping every now and then - jackpot! Memory...could be good..could be bad..could be big..could be small. Ugh! Only I'm sitting in the very middle of it and I have no idea who keeps 'giving it a whirl'!
 
Wow! Some of these descriptions are very interesting to read and unfortunately, somewhat relevant to me.

PTSD feels like being in a round cage (no corners for your back) with a hungry lion (insert your carnivore of choice) who enjoys taunting his prey before eating. Oh, and I've only got a butter knife (better than that soda straw I used to have) with which to defend myself. Sometimes, a pack of hyenas comes to play from outside and no place is safe.

It is oppressive, suffocating and ridiculously heavy. I suppose I could also relate this to being human among the walking dead (or among hungry vampires, xenophobic aliens, etc.).

There is no escape- anyone could be the 'enemy.'
 
I feel like I’m standing in a vast open field in the middle of a torrential downpour. I can barely see and can’t focus on anything around me. There is lightning and wind. There are things coming towards me but I can’t tell what they are. I can’t tell if they’re safe or dangerous. I can’t see well enough to have a plan to escape or attack. It is utter chaos.
 
I like these descriptions and most of them apply to me. I feel like my own worst enemy lurks inside me like a demonic genie in a bottle - if it's rubbed the "right" way, it is triggered to **poof** appear, granting wishes to mad, spiteful, emotionally crippled monsters before disappearing again, leaving me wounded, baffled, embarrassed and remorseful.
 
like...

I'm rowing away from a sinking ship. The compassionate side of me wants to row back and rescue everyone. The rational side knows, I just may get caught in the undertow.... to KEEP ROWING
 
feels like a junky's version of Indiana Jones ... that has no end
eek.png
 
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