It’s wearing me out, the constant terror. From loud streets to banging dishes, I perceive everything as a threat.
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I won’t lie – there are many aspects of PTSD that I hate! Chief among them is the grip it has on me. Man, it’s so tight, it’s damn near a death grip. With that said, there are many things about this disorder I detest. I often say to myself. “I hate that it’s messing with my freedom.”
Next on the list is PTSD’s startle response. I am so saddened by the constant terror I experience, just simply walking down the street. Even though I do my best to be social, I am not very good at it. And it’s not because I don’t want to. It’s just that being scared out of my skin twenty times a day acts as fuel for my depression. With every jump, the darkness engulfs me. Most times, from the inside out.
While this is a special kind of hell, being incased in my own fear and held together by the container I live in, the pain isn’t the only thing, far from it. Coursing through my veins is a mistrust that has left a trail of destruction in its wake.
Symptoms of PTSD
I guess it’s not a stretch to say that these are the top three of the worst symptoms. Therefore, I consider them nightmare fuel for my depression. And I wonder why my progress is slow. When I stop and look at it all, the root cause seems to be the hypervigilance. Maybe a better way to think of it is that this constant activation of fear is the common denominator.
I am exhausted, but not ready to surrender, and I may be terrified, but grateful to be alive.
Healing is slow, but I am not yet ready to go, I am willing to soldier on,
until the trauma is all but gone.
Jonathan Arenburg
- You’re Only Human
- You’ll Be Okay My Friend
- You didn’t ask for PTSD
- You can’t ignore PTSD
- You can’t control the environment
- You are more than you think you are
My advice to others suffering from PTSD, depression, or any mental illness: Is measuring every inch of progress as a major sucess? In my case, if it weren’t for therapy, I would be locked in the confines of the bedroom I call home. Yet despite this, I am sitting here in a cafe writing this blog post. With that said, I am ready to call it a day. I have reached my limit and that’s okay… It’s a major win for me that I get out at all. So, what’s your success story? Let me know!
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