One of my talents is that I can be highly organized, efficient and productive. I like that about myself. It isn’t enough to just be busy because busy doesn’t always get the job done. I have not only been busy, but I’ve been as productive as a busy bee this weekend.
It hasn’t been easy.
Not only am I not a spry twenty year old, but I’ve been so debilitated by my PTSD lately that simple tasks feel monumental. It is really a crying shame because I know that somewhere I still possess killer organizational, planning and productivity skills. So here I am with my PTSD, a dog, a turtle and a tiny little daughter trying to move box after box full of my life’s memories.
I’ve been dying inside.
Wonderful times that can’t be recaptured.
Dreams that won’t ever come true.
I think just about every box has a few tear stains on the contents found within them. In a way, I guess it is better that no one is here to help me because I’ve been a red eyed, swollen face, crying mess. Through it all, no matter how much I cry, there is always enough tears to cry again. There seems to be an endless well of tears set aside just for me.
Besides the tears, I’m having to cope with that horrible Post Traumatic Stress. One of my PTSD symptoms is that I “lose time” while doing a task. For example…I looked at the clock to see how much time I had left before Alyssa got home and then I started packing a small box of books. I taped the box together, turned the box over, placed about thirty large books in the box, wedged about ten little books around them to use up the rest of the box, sealed the box with tape and pushed it over with the other boxes. That would have normally taken me about two minutes to complete. However, while placing the thirty large books in the box, I “lost time” and snapped back into the present by Bella barking like a rabid dog at a bird sitting outside the window.
I knew that the stupid “lost time” thing had happened again without even looking at the clock. After I snap out of “losing time,” I have a pit in my stomach, a heaviness on my chest and I feel like I have been lost in the forest. It is a terrible feeling. I didn’t want to look at the clock, but my curiosity won and I looked. I shouldn’t have looked because it just made me feel worse. Fifty-three minutes had passed. FIFTY-THREE MINUTES!
The whole “lost time” thing is worse when I feel stressed or very lonely and I have been feeling both emotions as I pack everything all by myself. I keep thinking, “What am I supposed to be learning from all these experiences and how will I ever put everything I’ve learned about PTSD to good use?” Needless to say, I don’t know the answers.
Anyway, the weekend ended up being quite productive regardless of my older body, PTSD and sadness. I was busy as a bee on Friday evening and all day Saturday packing, packing and packing. Then on Sunday, Alyssa and I enjoyed a wonderful experience together. I’ll write a post chock-full of photos later, but I’ll give you a hint about why I was so happy yesterday…We go every year. Yeah, it was the bee’s knees!
By the way, I think I make a sassy looking bee! LOL I’m so silly!