For the last three weeks, I have been struggling. I haven’t been able to do the things I usually do and I’m really tired. Not just tired, REALLY tired.
It has been barely two years since Alyssa’s intensive care experience and
Two years since PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) took over my life.
Like a knot in a tree, it has left me scarred.
When the flashbacks took over my thoughts every waking moment, I was frustrated, emotional and my brain was a fog.
I slowly fell apart on my blog and in my life as the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) consumed me.
I tried to be open and even explained how my PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) inflicted brain kept telling me to kill myself.
Last month, I expressed how sad I feel since PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) got rid of the old me…
And how the whole traumatic experience coupled with PTSD still affects me without warning.
I just wish I could shake my head and make all the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) symptoms go away.
Today while Bella and I were sitting on the couch staring out the window at the beautiful sky and setting sun, my mother called me. We talked for a long time and she let me recount the whole sad experience again.
Those moments when I held Alyssa’s lifeless body were so painful that I don’t think there are words that can describe it.
Mom listened as I cried and talked. Mom also shared how she felt and all the things that happened with other people in my family outside the hospital room. Everyone was basically a mess, but they never showed it to me during those five days while I leaned over my child whose life hung by a thread as fragile as a spider’s web.
I remember them all smiling and hugging me. I didn’t know until tonight that they would fall apart after leaving the hospital room. They held it together in front of me because they didn’t want me to be more upset.
So often we look at someone and think, “They have it all together,” or “Their life is so easy.” I’m sure people look at me now and can’t tell what is happening as I dance with the PTSD Devil. You never know how another person suffers inside unless you take the time to listen. Sometimes a listening ear is really what they need more than anything.
Thank you for being a giant ear tonight, Mom. I love you.