Bill Dickerson
Gold Member
I feel trapped by the PTSD. I get disability and I live with my Mom who is 82. I take care of her the best I can.
I suppose it's very self centered but when my Mom is gone I'm not sure I will have a place to live. I handle her financials and I'm the exec of her will. I figure by the time I split everything up with my two sisters I'll have to sell the house to finish the division.
I feel like a real B**tard thinking about it much less discussing it but it scares the crap out of me. I've been looking for a place out in the country hoping my mom and myself could get something together. At least I would have someplace to stay.
One minute my Mom thinks it's a great idea and the next she doesn't. She doesn't understand the PTSD thing either so I don't even bring it up anymore. I keep finding nice places and showing them to her but after a few days it feels like a complete fantasy and my hopes are dashed and I feel trapped, empty, with that sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach.
I hate not being able to provide for myself. It robs me of my pride, my manhood, and feels me with dread and hopelessness.
I remember the first time I couldn't afford my meds. I walked out of the store trying not to cry in front of anybody. I sat for a long time in my truck wondering how long I could "not" commit suicide without my meds. It was not a fun place. It felt like being at the top of that roller coaster hill knowing that big drop was coming.
Feels kind of like that now.
Afraid it will get bad again. Seems in the middle of the breakdown I was so sick I didn't know how bad it was but looking back is very scary.
I suppose it's very self centered but when my Mom is gone I'm not sure I will have a place to live. I handle her financials and I'm the exec of her will. I figure by the time I split everything up with my two sisters I'll have to sell the house to finish the division.
I feel like a real B**tard thinking about it much less discussing it but it scares the crap out of me. I've been looking for a place out in the country hoping my mom and myself could get something together. At least I would have someplace to stay.
One minute my Mom thinks it's a great idea and the next she doesn't. She doesn't understand the PTSD thing either so I don't even bring it up anymore. I keep finding nice places and showing them to her but after a few days it feels like a complete fantasy and my hopes are dashed and I feel trapped, empty, with that sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach.
I hate not being able to provide for myself. It robs me of my pride, my manhood, and feels me with dread and hopelessness.
I remember the first time I couldn't afford my meds. I walked out of the store trying not to cry in front of anybody. I sat for a long time in my truck wondering how long I could "not" commit suicide without my meds. It was not a fun place. It felt like being at the top of that roller coaster hill knowing that big drop was coming.
Feels kind of like that now.
Afraid it will get bad again. Seems in the middle of the breakdown I was so sick I didn't know how bad it was but looking back is very scary.