Ptsd poetry anyone?

TruthSeeker

MyPTSD Pro
The germophobe has to have a mask,
is terrified without his mask,
afraid of dying,
anxiety ridden.....
washing and washing,
pushing doors open with elbows,
using gloves or towels to stay safe,
getting the hand sanitizer,
immediately stripping out of clothes
tossing them in washer,
upon entering the house,
All to manage Mr. Covid.
"Please wear a mask, I'm terrified"
you'll hear him beg.

The claustrophobe refuses to wear a mask,
is driven by fear and the mask must come off,
afraid of dying,
anxiety ridden.....
gasping for air,
light-headed and shaking,
heart pounding,
hyperventilating,
sweating,
feeling faint,
nauseous,
triggered by wearing a mask
trying to manage Mr. Covid.
"Please don't make me wear a mask.....I'm terrified."
 

woodsy1

MyPTSD Pro
The germophobe has to have a mask,
is terrified without his mask,
afraid of dying,
anxiety ridden.....
washing and washing,
pushing doors open with elbows,
using gloves or towels to stay safe,
getting the hand sanitizer,
immediately stripping out of clothes
tossing them in washer,
upon entering the house,
All to manage Mr. Covid.
"Please wear a mask, I'm terrified"
you'll hear him beg.

The claustrophobe refuses to wear a mask,
is driven by fear and the mask must come off,
afraid of dying,
anxiety ridden.....
gasping for air,
light-headed and shaking,
heart pounding,
hyperventilating,
sweating,
feeling faint,
nauseous,
triggered by wearing a mask
trying to manage Mr. Covid.
"Please don't make me wear a mask.....I'm terrified."
There are (at least) two sides to every story. I love how you captured this.
 

TruthSeeker

MyPTSD Pro
Panic
Rises in my throat
Screams
Are locked inside
I'm in the sea
Of nightmares
Always swimming
Never getting anywhere
It's hopeless now
I give up
Lean back
Into the wave
Letting the icy water
Wash over my soul
No need
To swim again
I'm free
I'm free
I totally get this poem and can relate. But I find, as I muddle through in therapy, the screaming in my head is lessening over time.....hang in there.
 

TruthSeeker

MyPTSD Pro
Birthdays

I remember when she was little,
my only child,
wearing a party hat, giggling and laughing,
so very innocent and loving,
parties were so much fun....
I long for a time when things were ...
so very simple....

As she grew up,
She loved to make me
something simple...
a drawing or a card,
for my birthday.....
I loved those gifts, so simple,
....so much fun,
cherished memories of happy times.

Then she grew up,
confused
about herself,
not remembered by her Dad,
her grandparents cold and aloof,
parties weren't as much fun,
I tried to make up
for her father's absence,

I got older,
she got older,
she changed....became distant,
birthday parties slowly became meaningless,
she was later, finally stopped coming,
coke or alcohol were her kind of party,
I pasted on a smile....
when there was an excuse....late or no show.

I miss her so very much,
I don't know if I'll ever see her again,
with the simplicity of being together,
smiling over just a candle,
so now, all I have are memories.....
her giggling and laughing
....in her little party hat,
when she loved me.
 

TruthSeeker

MyPTSD Pro
Prisoner
By 8888


Author's Note: He means my abuser.


He died

22 years ago

But I am still here

I wish the opposite

Was true

And he

Was in jail

Instead of me

A prisoner to myself
I'm understand the feeling of entrapped within oneself. I'm sorry you are feeling this way. Can you imagine not being a prisoner to yourself? If so, what would that look like?
I noticed your username: 8888-you know that signifies abundance, good fortune, financial stability, and even a windfall. Its a very positive username!
 

Ash_3

Learning
Letting the Stones Go

I live in a secret world
A world in which I have to hide
Hide from what? I ask myself
The answer unknown

I have nothing to fear inside
But there is pain,
A pain of remembering
A pain of knowing
How young I was

In time I'll learn to
Embrace that pain
So I can relive that pain
And understand that pain

I'll love that pain
That pain is a part of me
It's at the heart of me
But I am not my pain
I am not my trauma

I am...
What I make of my trauma
What I take from my trauma
I am me
I am one
 

TruthSeeker

MyPTSD Pro
Letting the Stones Go

I live in a secret world
A world in which I have to hide
Hide from what? I ask myself
The answer unknown

I have nothing to fear inside
But there is pain,
A pain of remembering
A pain of knowing
How young I was

In time I'll learn to
Embrace that pain
So I can relive that pain
And understand that pain

I'll love that pain
That pain is a part of me
It's at the heart of me
But I am not my pain
I am not my trauma

I am...
What I make of my trauma
What I take from my trauma
I am me
I am one
This really touches many aspects of PTSD....and so well put, and you are so right....you are what you make of your trama.....and what you take.....Thank You for writing this ...it's wisely hopeful. ;)
 

Ash_3

Learning
@TruthSeeker thank you for the space to share my words. I have many poems and love writing, but don't always feel comfortable sharing them with others. It's been so nice to read and experience the world through other survivors eyes.
 
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