Lady Moonlight
Silver Member
Well, I haven't kept a diary since I was a kid. It was mostly filled with silly secrets like who I had a crush on. While I've always enjoyed writing (i.e. my teen angst stories of high school), writing for personal thought processing has never been something I've been very...active at. But since this is online, there is suddenly the option of whatever whenever.
So without further ado...
PTSD... this is not a diagnosis I would have ever thought for myself. Bipolar, maybe. Depression, yes. Anxiety, yes. But PTSD? I thought it was something where you hide under the table when a loud noise happens (much like my autistic son used to do). Now, of course, I know that's not at all what it's like. What it's really like is to wake up in the night terrified of footsteps that aren't there. It's trying everything to fall asleep, but watching the clock instead. It's hearing a word or a song or feeling the wind blow a certain way or smelling that stale smell of beer and my chest seizes up and my body stops working and feeling that sense of doom. Panicking driving into work. Or worse, panicking driving home.
I don't know how to cope well. I'm told to breathe. It seems like everyone tells me to breathe. Don't they realize that every breath feels like I'm suffocating? Each one, ragged and shaky and agonizing? Sometimes I wish I could stop breathing at all. Stop breathing, stop eating, stop everything. Stop existing. Yes, I used to be suicidal. And yes sometimes I do still think about it. But after 20 years of suicidal thoughts, I don't really feel like I'll go through with it. Just another ghost to haunt me in my mind.
I think if I'm ever going to define exactly where this came from, I'm going to have to start from the beginning to tell the story. But that will have to wait until tomorrow.
So without further ado...
PTSD... this is not a diagnosis I would have ever thought for myself. Bipolar, maybe. Depression, yes. Anxiety, yes. But PTSD? I thought it was something where you hide under the table when a loud noise happens (much like my autistic son used to do). Now, of course, I know that's not at all what it's like. What it's really like is to wake up in the night terrified of footsteps that aren't there. It's trying everything to fall asleep, but watching the clock instead. It's hearing a word or a song or feeling the wind blow a certain way or smelling that stale smell of beer and my chest seizes up and my body stops working and feeling that sense of doom. Panicking driving into work. Or worse, panicking driving home.
I don't know how to cope well. I'm told to breathe. It seems like everyone tells me to breathe. Don't they realize that every breath feels like I'm suffocating? Each one, ragged and shaky and agonizing? Sometimes I wish I could stop breathing at all. Stop breathing, stop eating, stop everything. Stop existing. Yes, I used to be suicidal. And yes sometimes I do still think about it. But after 20 years of suicidal thoughts, I don't really feel like I'll go through with it. Just another ghost to haunt me in my mind.
I think if I'm ever going to define exactly where this came from, I'm going to have to start from the beginning to tell the story. But that will have to wait until tomorrow.