You know you have PTSD when...
-In English class, you're only "there" about sixty percent of the time- and that quickly knocks down to ten percent when your teacher wears the skirt that is TOTALLY the school uniform skirt you wore in eighth grade.
-When the questions "Where am I?" and "Who are you?" when asked to your friends are more frequent than "How are you?"
-When your friends know from the look on your face to introduce themselves and tell you where you are and how old you are before starting an actual conversation.
-When you embarrass yourself when the teacher reassuringly pats your shoulder in a "It'll be okay" way with a nice smile, by crying and saying "Don't hit me." >>> It's a good thing that there were only about eight other kids in a room, and most of them know I have PTSD.
-When you're worried you could get kicked out of school for your dissociation and PTSD if you're not careful. (I'm really really really scared and I need to get this under control.)
-When you think it's the COOLEST THING EVER that older girls are talking to you, and talking to you about things like driving and a university professor asking them if they'd like a drink... with ALCOHOL.. at a BAR.... and then they inform you that the older girls are actually the same age as you and that you guys are friends.
-When you think about wanting to play Barbies, and you wonder where the hell they have gone, and just decide to hug your Teddy for now, maybe have a tea party with all the other stuffed animals on your bed, half of which you can't remember getting.... you totally forgot about throwing the Barbies out at the age of thirteen, and that they aren't fun anymore.
-When you have a freak out about your bedroom, and start sobbing "Why are the walls yellow? Why are the walls yellow?" Cause they USED to be purple. (Prior to my move back home the bedroom was purple... now it's yellow and sometimes I don't remember it being repainted. What an ugly colour)
-When you text your mother things like "Can we go home now? We can leave Dad here." and later, you have no memory of sending the text, but it's in your phone anyway.
-when you spend twenty minutes waiting outside the school door waiting for your mother to pick you up, cause class ended at four- only to get fed up when your mother doesn't come; and when you go back into the school fed up and sick of the way your mother just forgot you you learn that you have another class- a night class- and you can get home afterwards quite easily by taking the train.