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.

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.

Oh, yes, that’s what that was …

Some pieces are starting to come together in spurts. Just yesterday while I was plodding along trying to get myself together after being triggered I had a memory race across my brain.

Three years ago I decided to go to a 6 week partial hospitalization program at a nearby psychiatric hospital. It was the first time I entered a psychiatric hospital for treatment. I was crying, completely triggered and freaked out when I made the phone call to the intake phone line. After I spoke for a few short minutes, the woman on the phone asked me if she could speak to one of my parents. I was stunned! I didn’t understand why she said that. She seemed genuinely surprised when I told her how old I was, at the time I was 37!

Ever since that happened three years ago I’ve been stumped by it. I thought various things, such as was it because of the fact that I was crying that she thought I was a young child? But plenty of people cry on the phone as adults and don’t get mistaken for children … I’ve always wondered how that happened. It bothers me when I can’t understand or explain things.

Then it occurred to me yesterday that the woman on the intake phone line at the psychiatric hospital must have interacted with me while I had switched to a child alter. It finally made sense to me. Doc had mentioned to me on Friday that my intonation changes when I switch into a child alter. He can immediately tell when it happens.

It’s small, very small, but I like understanding, even if it’s only a small piece of the entire story.