This week has been particularly bad one for me. Why? Who knows. It really doesn't matter anyway, it just is. I am so bluntly aware of what I had envisioned for myself so many years ago compared to the reality of my life now. I constantly remind myself that the sudden movement out of the corner of my eye is benign, but yet I react just the same. I can understand the theory of reminding myself that " it is not happening" and it is a good practice I'm sure, but it does little to resolve my constant hyper vigilance. It comes at a heavy price. I try to remember that I did some good things in my life, I am sure I have in some way touched another person's heart. I hope I have. I am so terribly unsure of anything anymore. I do not know who that image is I see in the mirror, but I don't like it. I look in those eyes & I try to invision a survivor who has earned her stripes & the right to be here. There are so very many triggers for me to simply overlook or ignore. I find myself sucking it up and playing the happy go lucky sod, when inside I am screaming out so loud that I know someone must hear me. But no, all is acceptably normal. I find myself fighting sleep simply to avoid that inevitable dream once again. Maybe if I stay up all night, I won't wake up in a cold sweat trying to push someone away, or maybe I will be so tired that I won't feel the mice scurrying around my legs or the roaches and other bugs casually walking on me until I can tolerate the sensation no more and flinch, knowing the rope is going to tighten around my neck. It is not happening now, or is it? I'm never sure. I constantly hear, "It's okay." It's not okay. It may be okay for you, but it is moist definitely not okay for me. Maybe it would have been different if I could have rose above it in spite of myself and accompolished a few of those many dreams I had at one time. Instead I have tried to bury the smells, the sounds, the touch, the simple panic of trying to survive at one moment and then cursing God for not letting me just die the next. I try to be positive around others, no point in singing a sad song. But what do you do when It plain and simple hurts just to sit with yourself. When you feel so raw inside that you can't even find the strength to pray for peace and sanity because it seems so very obscure that it is surely an impossibility. How do you stop hearing the screams? Was that me or was it someone else? Weird, but I honestly don't know. I remember screaming at one point, but I can't remember when I decided to stop screaming. Strange isn't it that those screams I did not verbalize are always the loudest in my head. But, "it's okay, it's not happening right now." For me it is a constant. I tried to open up and let it out, but it doesn't seem to come past my gut before I am disassociating. It's okay, it is only a memory, it can't hurt me anymore. It can only make me bitter that I can not simply get over it and move forward with my life. Then I get to deal with that reality, - what have I done with my life? Why could I have not been stronger in my resolve to let the past go? What does it mean for me? More importantly, to me? I had a nurse ask me what I did to survive, what did I tell myself? I responded I don't know. Ironically at that moment, I thought that maybe I could one day share my story on a much broader scale. There had to be others like me out there. It is funny to me how people want to hear all the gory details and some actually ask point blank what it felt like to be tied down for days. You stupidly find yourself wanting to share some little part of what happened,... you know to test the waters and see for yourself the reaction in others. Are they sincerely concerned as I thought that nurse was? No, just curious, nosey at best. You hear the false compassion, that you at the time thinks is sincere, until you become a burden even to them and then they are eager to avoid dealing with you and your bizarre behavior. Curiosity turns to ambivalence when you do not follow protocol and resolve your issues on queue, thus you become a thorn in the paw of those who did not cure you symptoms and make you all better so you can go away and leave them alone. Then there you are, shuffled from one hand to the other as you fall from grace because you still are hard headed to the point of still being symptomatic with your disassociation and depression. The shame of it all. So in the end, you are stuck with yourself, hopelessly believing there is a chance for peace of mind, but your reality is not expecting that panacea to happen for you. It is written that it is not unusual for those with PTSD to have unresolved issues with themselves and their religious convictions, or higher power if you prefer. I agree totally. On a good day, I have hope and on a bad day I have profound pain and bitterness, - probably more with myself and my inability to maintain a good resolve and "get over it". It would be so much easier if I did not oscillate between extreme emotions a hundred times a day and a thousand times a night. At some point, I am most at ease when I am totally numb, which is not too very often at all. Where do I go from here? Which way is up when you feel like you are drowning? Yet with myself, I have a hunger to survive at some level. Some days it is stronger than others and a good day will comfort me. That must be what it is that keeps me coming back for more. The good day. One that is not totally consumed in an inner ache deep in your gut that goes straight through to your backbone and keeps you restless and agitated even when you are alone. I honestly don't know at times if I am trying to remember or trying to forget. It does not matter really because the truth is I will never forget, I just want another good day.