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You Know You Have PTSD When...

When laughing at the bad, and crying at the good, is the right order of things.

Yes! Words to guide my week!

When madness seems logical.

Lol, I read this first as “when *magic* seems logical”! And it resonated because I now believe unabashedly, unlike before receiving my diagnosis. As a science major and child of an insecure man, I was encouraged to mock it, but my spirituality is now a welcome part of my self!
 
When you triple check weather reports

Because your flashback weather does not make logical sense for the location.
(But your win of the day is: I f*cked up questions about how I am, therapist, how I ate, friends, but if anyone asked, I could tell the weather right. :D)
 
@Ronin... and the related one :bag: ... Get dressed. Go outside. Blink in confusion. It’s not summer/winter/jungle/mountain out. Go back inside. Take clothes off, or add more on. Go back outside. Yes? Yes.

I count it as a win, not just going back I bed to see if the outside fixes itself while I’m sleeping. Although that has been known to happen, it’s more likely to happen on a train?

Ditto, it’s a win having the correct clothes to change into.

2 wins for the price of 1! :sneaky:
 
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It’s not summer/winter/jungle/mountain out.

It’s not? :shifty:
That might explain things.

(And in which you have fabulous fashion all seasons long... Sssh, we are not saying it is that one outfit of jeans, tee, and an all purpose jacket with trekkers that probably met the last pharaoh but are just fine for running and fixing sprained ankle alike.)
 
When....

How do we dismantle an Escher painting? With scissors, probably.
Just so does not translate to PTSD coping advice, but reminders there are Everything Goes coping mechanisms for everything still make your day.

So you scissor out the good parts of lives. Celebration of there, to wrong weather of elsewhere, high waves of one place coupled with sands of entirely different location, voila, collage.

& When happiness stresses you out beyond measure.

& When all you want of people is take you for a hell long drive, hand you a bottle of something strong, and let you f*cking break, in silence. (No, we’re not talking about it, and I don’t need a hug. You’re driving.)

And when it takes you ages to write a single post. What was so difficult? Dutch artists.
 
... When a partially Deaf guy in martial arts has more advice on what to do with hypervigilance than your therapist.

But all the :happy: for not being grilled for answers you :speechless: cannot talk about at all, and that trying to talk about only gets you :mad: .

... And when you are similarly glad, because discussing how heaviness of boots is orientation & identification gets you back online. Right, do not even try to talk trauma, talk the peripheral situational awareness bullshit. :facepalm: We will get there, one day.
 

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