PTSD: We have better things to do

Though there was less freaking out externally today, internally we still had a full program. There was the moment I wanted to get under my desk. That is nothing new, and nothing at work was causing that feeling. I have that desire come up from time to time, and I just talk myself out of it, especially at work.

AND then there was the moment when I was helping my colleague proof read his disciplinary charges against an employee. In this instance it was a fight that occurred in the workplace. When you charge someone with discipline for this kind of infraction you have to be very careful how you write the charges. I asked my colleague questions about some of what was written regarding how the fight happened. I didn’t quite understand some of what was written, so he asked if could demonstrate on me. I said sure because I knew the essence of the fight, and I knew he just wanted to show me in slow motion what he was conveying in the charges.

This demonstration lasted less than 5 seconds. He basically had one hand on my arm, and the other hand on my opposite shoulder for a very brief moment of time. It was all on the up and up, and it did help understand what he wrote.

Unfortunately, I felt nauseous, and I could tell my teeth wanted to chatter. It vexes me because this person is a fine person whom I trust and respect very much. I understand having these feelings around people who make me nervous, or people I don’t care for, but this was not the case.

This is why I completely and utterly hate you PTSD. I absolutely deplore you because you are inherently unfair. You invariably make your appearance during situations that are otherwise fine. Just go away, and stop with all the drama and fits. I would like to move on with my life, and, most of all, I would like to freak out only when things that warrant freaking out are really happening. Stop the mind games please. We all know you can outlast, now move on. I have better things to do.

The eternal fight

Cat on a Ledge |  255/365

 

You want something better for yourself, a better life, for starters. But triggers, memories and flashbacks bring you falling down time and again. You get up , and fall down, ad nauseam.

How long can this go on? Ad nauseam? You don’t want to conceive of that possibility.

You want to remain employable, be a better friend, get a dog. You have a job, but you always fear being found out as truly belonging in the loony bin, and you know you need to work on being a better friend. And so many things have to happen before you can get a dog. It all seems so out of your league, so meant for others, but not for you.

On good days you reach and reach and reach into the depths of your soul, and yank out the oomph you need to keep you going, keep you from falling off the edge.

On bad days you stare at the edge of ledge and wonder …

STOP THE LEAKING

I am a baby, a cry baby. There is no denying it, and I hate it. I loathe it all day. It just is incredibly inconvenient to me to be such a cry baby. Today at work we were talking about the ins and outs of forming a board for an appeal that needs to be heard. I made a suggestion about one way of selecting members for this group, and this guy just said to me, “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I was stunned. I felt metaphorically slapped. Trust me, I recognize that most peeps aren’t as sensitive as I am.

Then I had to wait while my boss spent 25 minutes talking with a co-worker about the tragedy of her Christmas tree falling over this weekend. She saw me waiting outside her door, and waved me into her office, but then proceeded to continue this personal conversation with a coworker for nearly a half hour! If I had known it would take that long I would have gone back to my desk. I was just waiting to see if she had any guidance on how to get the damn thing done. Well, by the time I was able to ask her my question about the stupid issue I just started getting all teary. I did not realize that I was still upset by the dumb guy’s comment, and that’s what probably got me teary. But … Ugh!!! I really hate that, especially since I know that she looks down on people who cry. She does not care for it. She treated me fine, but it blows that I’ve heard her make disparaging remarks about people who cry. It just feels humiliating.

It probably did not help that she had me stand there for nearly a half hour while she yammered about something else with a coworker.  Still, I wish I was less sensitive. When things like this happen I start to feel like I’m in elementary school again, and even the teachers called me a cry baby.

I wish I had a STOP THE LEAKING button any time I start feeling like I am going to cry, but don’t want to cry. Such a thing would be incredibly handy to me.