Has anyone ever noticed that PTSD brings, at least in my life, a very dark day followed by a good one?
For two decades this has been the trend. But this year has been a bit different: the dark days have dominated my daily life, and for the first time in over a decade, there have been fewer good days than bad.
Because of this, and because my patience with PTSD is waning, I've begun taking action during the past few months try to break the cycle. I'm tired of all that PTSD brings to my table, and I'm ready to do the work necessary to send it packing.
Lately, I've begun to tell close friends and family of my condition. Most wouldn't know the extent of my suffering. So coming out of the PTSD closet in this sense has been cathartic and liberating.
Speaking with friends and family feels honest. It breaks away the shell I've fabricated during the years to create the appearance that all is well. Yesterday, my brother asked, "How are you?" in a cheery voice. "Not doing so hot -- same old shit," I said. Yes, honesty is good.
Beyond communicating more honestly, I recently pulled the police records of the day my dear friend ended his life unintentionally in my home. These records opened my eyes and mind to that horrific day by giving me specific information about what happened, how it happened, etc. And it gave me photos of that day, moments frozen in time of a boyhood home turned horror scene.
And now, I'm considering getting back into counseling again, after more than a decade trying to deal with PTSD alone.
Last night, a vivid dream took the driver's seat at about 3 a.m. A man chased me in a parking deck, firing bullets at me from a 9 millimeter pistol. He hit me once, but continued my effort to escape. He fired round after round from only a few feet. I managed to hold him off for a minute or so before getting shot at point blank range.
I awoke. I was hyperventilating. And adrenaline raced through my veins.
Today, I feel great. But I wonder, what will tomorrow hold? Will I continue to march forward and chip away a little bit at a time at the scourge that haunts my mind? Or will I make a big leap and make real change in my life?
I'm tired of playing good day/bad day. I'm tired of nightmares, exaggerated startle reflex, and the river of anxiety that floods my life most every day.
I'm ready for two good days in a row. I'm ready to be happy again. I'm ready to get my life back.
I'm taking steps to do so, and I'm proud to walk with each of you along the way.
For two decades this has been the trend. But this year has been a bit different: the dark days have dominated my daily life, and for the first time in over a decade, there have been fewer good days than bad.
Because of this, and because my patience with PTSD is waning, I've begun taking action during the past few months try to break the cycle. I'm tired of all that PTSD brings to my table, and I'm ready to do the work necessary to send it packing.
Lately, I've begun to tell close friends and family of my condition. Most wouldn't know the extent of my suffering. So coming out of the PTSD closet in this sense has been cathartic and liberating.
Speaking with friends and family feels honest. It breaks away the shell I've fabricated during the years to create the appearance that all is well. Yesterday, my brother asked, "How are you?" in a cheery voice. "Not doing so hot -- same old shit," I said. Yes, honesty is good.
Beyond communicating more honestly, I recently pulled the police records of the day my dear friend ended his life unintentionally in my home. These records opened my eyes and mind to that horrific day by giving me specific information about what happened, how it happened, etc. And it gave me photos of that day, moments frozen in time of a boyhood home turned horror scene.
And now, I'm considering getting back into counseling again, after more than a decade trying to deal with PTSD alone.
Last night, a vivid dream took the driver's seat at about 3 a.m. A man chased me in a parking deck, firing bullets at me from a 9 millimeter pistol. He hit me once, but continued my effort to escape. He fired round after round from only a few feet. I managed to hold him off for a minute or so before getting shot at point blank range.
I awoke. I was hyperventilating. And adrenaline raced through my veins.
Today, I feel great. But I wonder, what will tomorrow hold? Will I continue to march forward and chip away a little bit at a time at the scourge that haunts my mind? Or will I make a big leap and make real change in my life?
I'm tired of playing good day/bad day. I'm tired of nightmares, exaggerated startle reflex, and the river of anxiety that floods my life most every day.
I'm ready for two good days in a row. I'm ready to be happy again. I'm ready to get my life back.
I'm taking steps to do so, and I'm proud to walk with each of you along the way.
