The most interesting thing happened to me this morning. I had made my wife breakfast and coffee in bed, and we had spent the morning just kind of lazily enjoying the morning together. We had the TV on in the background and were chatting about this and that on the couch for a while. We had gotten up to go into the kitchen for whatever reason, and I noticed on the TV a police cruiser with the logo of the Ft. Worth police department on it. Suddenly I blurted out, “I’ve been to Ft. Worth”, even though I had no memory of actually being there. I stopped and thought about it for a second. That’s when I remembered these little pennants that you could get at different amusement parks, theme parks, etc. I started to describe them to her, when all of a sudden I started having a migraine aura.
Now, these happen to me from time to time, and during the course of the last year they’ve been coming more and more frequently, but this one hit sudden and hard. I had to sit down immediately because I felt like I would black out otherwise. My hands were shaky and I felt the blood drain from my face. Continue reading Remembering the Alamo
Okay, so important lesson learned. It’s a bad idea for me to read my posts to my wife right before bed. I just got triggered while reading them, then said something about being triggered. We talked for a bit, then she rolled over to go to sleep, and my brain started churning, as it has a tendency to do. The next thing I know, I’m grilling her about stuff and she’s not getting any sleep. Then I’m a mess, babbling about losing her, crying and just basically being stupid.
She did her best to reassure me but that doesn’t quiet my heart or stop my hands from shaking. It didn’t stop me from crying either, and there’s just no way that I’m going to be able to sleep now. We’ve been growing more and more distant over the last few years, and the stress of that is coming out. So when I get triggered I fall into that abandonment issue thing and I freak right the fuck out. I know she said she’s not going to leave me, and I believe her. I really do, but when I’m triggered my brain just completely bypasses all that and screams as loud as it can that she’s halfway out the door and hailing a cab. Continue reading Triggered again
Warning: contains some graphic material.
For me, sex was something that I discovered at a very early age; well before I had any inkling of what was actually going on. My brother and I had discovered some porno magazines…I think at a bar that we lived near and my dad frequented. We knew the son of the bar owner and would hang out with him a lot.
Mostly those magazines were cartoons…at least the stuff that I remember. There may have been some with nudity, but I was young and more curious about the comics. What I saw there changed me forever. I can still see some of those images in my head. I remember one that depicted superman with an exaggeratedly large penis. His member was going into one lady’s vagina and coming out of her mouth, and it continued in this fashion for three or more girls. There were more, but that one sticks out the most. I think I was about eleven at the time. Continue reading Sex, shame and guilt
As I’ve mentioned before, growing up I didn’t have a lot of friends. I never had the typical birthday party that I can remember. When you bounce around a lot from school to school you don’t make a lot of friends, and my birthday is during the summer months to boot. One year, my 5th grade, I handed out a bunch of invitations on the last day of school, hoping beyond hope that somebody would show up for my birthday party. I even had permission from my father and everything. I cleaned the house and had everything ready. The only kids to show up were my next door neighbors. That was a bit of a letdown. Continue reading Invader Zim
The fact that I’ve been down lately should come as no surprise to anyone. One of my triggers got pulled recently and true to form I clammed up and tried to weather it out. The nature of this trigger is abandonment, which makes it very very difficult for me to engage others, especially those that I feel most afraid of abandoning me; which in this case is once again my poor wife, who is a real trooper, I must say. Continue reading PTSD times two?
What do you do when you feel the world sliding out from under your feet and there’s nothing solid to hang onto? How do you manage to keep functioning and acting like everything is normal? How do you keep putting on the smile, nodding and asking the polite questions? How do you keep them from seeing the hurt brimming just under the surface, when you know they don’t want to see it? Nobody wants to see it. They just want you to keep acting like it’s alright, like it’s something that will just be over soon and the real you will be back. Here’s the secret, I’m always here, I’m always me. The real me is the same me when I’m smiling as when I’m not. The real me needs help when he’s smiling and when he’s not, but it’s easy to forget, or not care or just not notice. How do I keep reaching out when nobody wants to reach in? Why am I always the one that has to do the reaching? What difference does it make in the end anyway?
I got about five hours of sleep last night, which for me is usually pretty good, but when I woke up I felt as though I had only gotten two. I knew right away that I wouldn’t be able to sleep again, so I forced myself up and made coffee. Halfway through my coffee, I was ready to go back to bed, and now after trying to nap, I’m still tired as hell. I guess it’s good that I can’t sleep, maybe I’ll get something done. Oh, and I remember when I woke up that I had the impression that my dreams were very vivid, although I couldn’t remember any of the content. Continue reading Lethargy, sleeplessness and motivation
All my life I’ve been either running away or hiding from one thing or another. I guess if you delve deep down, it’s probably been guilt and shame. I suppose those are the outworkings of my PTSD, but at the moment it’s mostly a crapshoot.
I actually physically ran away from home twice. Once when I was eleven and my brother was twelve and the next time I must have been fourteen. The first time we did it we rode our old BMX style bicycles about 20 miles to a friends house. It seemed like the longest distance ever. It took us nearly all day, but we were making a stand. Well, I guess my brother was, I was just kind of tagging along as usual. My father came and picked us up the next day. Oddly he wasn’t furious like I thought he would be. I don’t remember him exactly changing his ways either, though. Continue reading Running away and hiding