Blues in NYC
Silver Member
Anybody else get these stupid things? Up early after being plagued with these stupid embarrassing nightmares all night last night.
In one I was supposed to be delivering lead vocals (no I can't sing and in the dream I couldn't either) for one of those TV talent shows. I didn't know the lyrics. Had to go on stage and apologize to the band who were all old friends for ruining their chance and confess publicly if I ever auditioned for one of these shows, I'd know I'd hit rock bottom. The whole time I was apologizing, I recall thinking to myself over and over in my dream "Don't mention not rehearsing because of your PTSD. Don't mention your PTSD. They don't need to know."
Other ones involved being surrounded by cab drivers on a street corner, all jeering and taking cell phone pictures of me but with flashes like the paparazzi. I had to cover my face to see. In another, all my computer logins had been hacked and I'd been humiliated in any online community I'd ever participated in by an identity thief.
Each time I'd wake up, body tingling with adrenaline and the hyperawareness I know too well was on and turned up to eleven. Every damn noise in the house perceptible. Every damn noise down the block.
Dreams of murder and rape freaking a person out, I get that. But man, why's my brain gotta torment me with little stuff? It's so not nice. Why's this PTSD crap gotta make us sweat the little stuff so much?
Yesterday (while awake) was a tough one. I had to push back hard against some idiot appliance salesmen regarding a part for a stove that did not come with it. The tenant moves into this apartment today and this little adapter for the Euro to American hookup did not come with the model and I'd been given the run around by this sales chain and treated over and over as if I was stupid. Getting treated like a doormat has been a chronic problem in my life due to some behavioural coping mechanisms learned very early on. When I recognize that I'm being mistreated and bullied now, it starts to trigger. So there I was in the store getting triggered with a confrontation broiling, needing to get that damn part. Thunk. The walls of numbness went up. Got me through. I got a little mean. Had a date with a mate for lemonade later that day. Didn't quite connect. Too much anxiety yesterday but I couldn't feel it before bed. Guessing these humiliating nightmares are the feeling creeping back in. Can't believe I used to keep those damned walls up for months--and in the worst of it: years!--at a time.
I hate PTSD. :mad:
In one I was supposed to be delivering lead vocals (no I can't sing and in the dream I couldn't either) for one of those TV talent shows. I didn't know the lyrics. Had to go on stage and apologize to the band who were all old friends for ruining their chance and confess publicly if I ever auditioned for one of these shows, I'd know I'd hit rock bottom. The whole time I was apologizing, I recall thinking to myself over and over in my dream "Don't mention not rehearsing because of your PTSD. Don't mention your PTSD. They don't need to know."
Other ones involved being surrounded by cab drivers on a street corner, all jeering and taking cell phone pictures of me but with flashes like the paparazzi. I had to cover my face to see. In another, all my computer logins had been hacked and I'd been humiliated in any online community I'd ever participated in by an identity thief.
Each time I'd wake up, body tingling with adrenaline and the hyperawareness I know too well was on and turned up to eleven. Every damn noise in the house perceptible. Every damn noise down the block.
Dreams of murder and rape freaking a person out, I get that. But man, why's my brain gotta torment me with little stuff? It's so not nice. Why's this PTSD crap gotta make us sweat the little stuff so much?
Yesterday (while awake) was a tough one. I had to push back hard against some idiot appliance salesmen regarding a part for a stove that did not come with it. The tenant moves into this apartment today and this little adapter for the Euro to American hookup did not come with the model and I'd been given the run around by this sales chain and treated over and over as if I was stupid. Getting treated like a doormat has been a chronic problem in my life due to some behavioural coping mechanisms learned very early on. When I recognize that I'm being mistreated and bullied now, it starts to trigger. So there I was in the store getting triggered with a confrontation broiling, needing to get that damn part. Thunk. The walls of numbness went up. Got me through. I got a little mean. Had a date with a mate for lemonade later that day. Didn't quite connect. Too much anxiety yesterday but I couldn't feel it before bed. Guessing these humiliating nightmares are the feeling creeping back in. Can't believe I used to keep those damned walls up for months--and in the worst of it: years!--at a time.
I hate PTSD. :mad:
