Category: PTSD

I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I want to cry but I don’t dare, because I don’t know if I will be able to stop. It’s all too much. Terror at the Bomber game in Edmonton, yet another *worst ever* mass shooting in the States. It’s like they are competing to see who can be the biggest shitbag in the world.
And then, someone who I thought was a friend turns out to be a supporter of the Big Orange Monster. She had commented on FB that she wished Trump was the Prime Minister rather than Trudeau. (because of course we can only pick between the two extremes, no sense talking about somewhere in the middle) When I asked her about it, she said “Well, I don’t like him as a person, but I like the direction he’s going.”
You know, I was married to someone who thought that Hitler “had some great ideas” and “wasn’t such a bad guy”.
What my friend will never realize, because she is being willingly blind, is that the Cheeto In Chief is a malignant narcissist. It’s hard to realize how toxic they are until you have been emotionally beaten down by one. There is no room for good intention for others in their worldview. There is only room for what is best for them, and them alone. Their family is only useful as far as they bring glory to the narcissist.
A narcissist will never be truly happy, so they will never stop creating chaos around them. They need to push others down to lift themselves up. They have no inner peace, nothing to fall back on. This is why they create the drama, they need others to feed the never ending empty spot in their soul. That’s the difference between just having a few narcissistic habits or traits, which is pretty normal, and having Narcissistic Personality Disorder. They are sick, but will never acknowledge it or seek therapy to treat it. There is no drug we can slip in their coffee to cure it. The only cure is for us, their victims, by getting away from the poison and being happy with and for ourselves. When you are happy, you spread happiness. When you are toxic, you spread misery.
Anyone who can back up a person like that, who refuses to see how harmful they are, is not welcome in my life.
I have a hard enough time as it is. I need to find some joy to spread.


Apparently, I have issues.


Hmph, I can’t shock anyone with that news.  Either I’m a bad secret keeper, or you are very intuitive.

Well, how about this.  Next week I meet with my brand-spankin-new mental heath practitioner.  Yup, the crazy lady finally gets a psychiatrist.  I got a referral from my GP in January (I wasn’t dealing with stuff too well then) and, being that we have supercalifragilisticexpialidotious health care here in Canada I waited until the end of June to see someone in that department to do an evaluation on my brain.

After an hour of some pretty basic questions, me being brutally honest about the relationship between me & my mother and the fiasco that was my first marriage, she told me that it was not a surprise that I had a problem dealing with things because I was an, and I quote, “textbook case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”.  hmmmm, you mean that thing that soldiers get?  I’m not a soldier. You must have me confused with someone else.

Well, lets look at the symptoms, taken from the resource page at the wonderful Band Back Together.


PTSD sufferers re-experience the stressful or traumatic event in some way (nightmares, intrusive thoughts, flashbacks), tend to avoid places, people, or other things that remind them of the event (avoidance), and are exquisitely sensitive to normal life experiences (hyper-arousal, which may show up as being easily startled, emotional outbursts, and/or tension).  PTSD can negatively impact everyday functioning in work and at home, as it often disrupts the normal course of a person’s day and makes it difficult to sleep, eat, or focus on a task.

Hmmmm, nightmares? Check.  Flashbacks? Check.  Avoidance?  I’m pretty sure my son has only had one item of clothing that was camouflage, and I did NOT buy it for him.  Check.  Emotional outbursts? Check!  Tension?  DOUBLE check!  Difficulty sleeping? Boy-Howdy! Checkerooni big fella!

As far as normal life experiences go, do you have any idea how fucking unsettling it is to find out time and time again that what you have experienced is not by any means normal?  I found out a few years ago that having a headache Every. Single. Day. is not normal.  Now I find out that my little “episodes” are actually panic attacks.  Fucking labels.  I’ve read about these, given virtual hugs to other bloggers who have reached out and not judged anyone.

So why am I judging myself?

So now I have that appointment next week to find out about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.  You know, like on those TV shows about the people with OCD.  It works for them, they’re sick.  But I’m judging myself again for being “weak”.