Today's Trigger
Posted: July 12th, 2014, 9:03 am
I'm not entirely sure which flavor of PTSD I have whether just run-of-mill classic PTSD from my sexual abuse, home invasion, and mugging/near-kidnapping or C-PTSD from my less-than-ideal upbringing. Whatever it is it fucking sucks. I just wish I could feel safe in my home. I'm about to move to a new home and I'm scared I won't feel safe there either. Part of me wants to buy a shot gun, I'm moving out into the country after all, but I know I'm not always in my right mind and don't trust myself not to take my own life or someone I loves by mistake because I was having a flashback or something. Anyhow, here's how this morning played out and why I'm starving but can't manage to leave my couch to make food or go to the store to buy some noodles. I don't drive so well when I'm shaken up.
Today's episode starts simply like this:
I get a weird text last night that reads:
You're one of the coolest and sweetest people I have ever met in my life. I hope to one day see you again and talk a lil shit about nothing. I hope you are happy and well. Take Care Sweet [wren]
I begin to wonder who sent this. I deleted the numbers of people I no longer want contact with but have never changed my own number due to the hassle and fear of being completely paranoid (which I am anyway but try to keep folks from noticing). I assume it is a drunk ex-boyfriend and the whole thing kind of sticks in the back of my brain. I show it to my husband and text back asking who it is. I wonder, if it is not that ex then who the possible suspects would be. I can think of a few but it grosses me out.
We go see a friend's band play and stay out late last night and sleep in this morning. As my husband drives me to get my car from where I left it I see a new message that it is indeed one of the creepier people I was hoping it was not.
A guy from over four years back that I only hung out with a few times and only because my friend drug me over to his house. He was a regular at the bar I worked at and always creeped me out. He seemed like the stalker type and I never trusted him. I kept my distance as best I could though somehow he got my number and would send me shit like frequently even though he barely knew me.
I respond that he must have the wrong number, this is not [wren].
My husband goes to runs errands and I return home.
But the whole text thing has put a bad taste in my mouth though. Returning home I start getting ready to walk the dog who is beside himself with eagerness for his late morning walk.
And then I hear something.
Something that sounds like a man in my living room just said : I am your bud.
In retrospect I assume it was the dog as his grumbles and yowls can sometimes sound un-doglike. Either that or I had an auditory hallucination. I'm hoping for the former so as not to be completely losing my fucking mind.
Anyhow, fearing that this man has found me somehow and is now about to abduct me and do terrible things to me I begin to panic. My heart starts racing and I look for the nearest weapon. My favorite large knife is in the kitchen under a bunch of dishes in the sink so that's not an option. I begin to shake harder and feel trapped. I quickly, quietly, and shakily open the bedroom window and scramble to pull out the screen as I'm sure the intruder is now making his way closer.
I debate jumping out the window and come very close to doing so.
This whole time the dog just watches from the living room wagging his tail. It occurs to me that if there were an intruder then the dog would be barking and paying him attention and not just staring at me. I also cannot figure how to rescue the dog in case I'm incorrect. He is clearly too close to the intruder and I might hurt him chucking him out the window even if I could get to him before being pounced on.
I look around and remember we keep an aluminum bat in the bedroom. I get the bat and begin to make my way to the kitchen where I find a knife and then slowly make my way around my house with bat and knife and back against the wall checking every room for the bad guy.
Not finding him but not feeling safe either I make my way to the front room, get my keys and leash and the dog gets his walk while I cry all over the neighborhood.
Sadly, this is not the first time this scenario has played out. It's not even the second or third time. I have lost count.
How many times has the mailman sent me flying to my room with a knife in my hand? How many times have I fled my home fretting my day away about the guilt of abandoning my dog and cat? What if I am starting to hallucinate? Will I ever feel safe?
Some days I feel like I'm just getting worse, not better.
Today's episode starts simply like this:
I get a weird text last night that reads:
You're one of the coolest and sweetest people I have ever met in my life. I hope to one day see you again and talk a lil shit about nothing. I hope you are happy and well. Take Care Sweet [wren]
I begin to wonder who sent this. I deleted the numbers of people I no longer want contact with but have never changed my own number due to the hassle and fear of being completely paranoid (which I am anyway but try to keep folks from noticing). I assume it is a drunk ex-boyfriend and the whole thing kind of sticks in the back of my brain. I show it to my husband and text back asking who it is. I wonder, if it is not that ex then who the possible suspects would be. I can think of a few but it grosses me out.
We go see a friend's band play and stay out late last night and sleep in this morning. As my husband drives me to get my car from where I left it I see a new message that it is indeed one of the creepier people I was hoping it was not.
A guy from over four years back that I only hung out with a few times and only because my friend drug me over to his house. He was a regular at the bar I worked at and always creeped me out. He seemed like the stalker type and I never trusted him. I kept my distance as best I could though somehow he got my number and would send me shit like frequently even though he barely knew me.
I respond that he must have the wrong number, this is not [wren].
My husband goes to runs errands and I return home.
But the whole text thing has put a bad taste in my mouth though. Returning home I start getting ready to walk the dog who is beside himself with eagerness for his late morning walk.
And then I hear something.
Something that sounds like a man in my living room just said : I am your bud.
In retrospect I assume it was the dog as his grumbles and yowls can sometimes sound un-doglike. Either that or I had an auditory hallucination. I'm hoping for the former so as not to be completely losing my fucking mind.
Anyhow, fearing that this man has found me somehow and is now about to abduct me and do terrible things to me I begin to panic. My heart starts racing and I look for the nearest weapon. My favorite large knife is in the kitchen under a bunch of dishes in the sink so that's not an option. I begin to shake harder and feel trapped. I quickly, quietly, and shakily open the bedroom window and scramble to pull out the screen as I'm sure the intruder is now making his way closer.
I debate jumping out the window and come very close to doing so.
This whole time the dog just watches from the living room wagging his tail. It occurs to me that if there were an intruder then the dog would be barking and paying him attention and not just staring at me. I also cannot figure how to rescue the dog in case I'm incorrect. He is clearly too close to the intruder and I might hurt him chucking him out the window even if I could get to him before being pounced on.
I look around and remember we keep an aluminum bat in the bedroom. I get the bat and begin to make my way to the kitchen where I find a knife and then slowly make my way around my house with bat and knife and back against the wall checking every room for the bad guy.
Not finding him but not feeling safe either I make my way to the front room, get my keys and leash and the dog gets his walk while I cry all over the neighborhood.
Sadly, this is not the first time this scenario has played out. It's not even the second or third time. I have lost count.
How many times has the mailman sent me flying to my room with a knife in my hand? How many times have I fled my home fretting my day away about the guilt of abandoning my dog and cat? What if I am starting to hallucinate? Will I ever feel safe?
Some days I feel like I'm just getting worse, not better.