the "Inside PTSD" collection:
- inside ptsd
- inside ptsd, the mad list
- inside ptsd, backstory
- inside ptsd, fleeing
- inside ptsd, two
- inside ptsd, remediation
- inside ptsd, three, rage
- inside ptsd, transaction costs
- time shift, inside the ptsd
- time shift three
- time shift two, still inside the ptsd
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode
- survive vs heal
- inside ptsd, body knows
- inside ptsd, body knows, part one
- one hour
- that same afternoon
- inside ptsd, more than a recollection
- inside ptsd, body knows 2
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 2
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 3
- inside ptsd, a student of trauma
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 4a
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 4b
- inside ptsd, the addiction episode, part 5
- inside ptsd, more than a recollection, part 2
- inside my midlife ptsd
- one day—the daylight part—inside ptsd
- inside ptsd, mere survival
- inside ptsd, economics
- one day, at night, inside ptsd
- on the outside, looking in
- inside ptsd, in the wind
- inside ptsd, in the wind, two
- a is for anxiety
- inside ptsd, the last match
- inside ptsd, addicted to addiction
- inside ptsd, outside looking in
- Day Three, Haunted
- inside ptsd, what it is
- inside ptsd, it takes time
- inside ptsd, the plea for understanding
- before the aftermath
trippy morning, tina came down a few minutes before time to get up, i made room.
she wants me to be better which is of course lovely. she talks about my writing, how it's way helping her understand me, and she so wants it not to be the way it is, and she tries hard and gently, i give her that, and i told her i get 4-5 anxiety attacks every week, and started describing how they are this slow dread bumping into me like a mobile fog of pre-fear, and how i can't usually identify the trigger, it's just there, and the next minutes or hours of my day are now radically different, b/c now i have this crazy amorphous mass to deal with... my body is quickly on alert and looking over my shoulder and patting my pockets for my wallet and emergency cash...
and she got all sad and humbled and asked if it happened when i was coming back to the house (when i 'come home') and i said yes, sometimes, that is one of the known triggers but it doesn't happen every time, but regularly, and of course she was way sad and looking for ways out and i told her there are no paths visible to me, just today, just right now, and she asked if it was possible to experience this cutting edge beauty of now without having to be inside ptsd, and i said probably, but i have no glipse of that.
maybe you write about that she said, what that might be like and i said i have to get through today first, 14/15 hours of god knows what, and that's enough, what with all the micro-transactions i have to negotiate every hour, assessing escape routes, orienting myself to resources on hand, where in the city i am, what obligations i have and what would be the price to blow any of them off.
Some minutes, sometimes even 60 or 70 in a row, i do that scanning subconsciously, noting details, assessing risks, trying to see threats long before they materialize. We're good at it, me and me, and it makes us feel safer. In a good hour it doesn't take up that much time at all, and i can write or walk or work with impunity.
But other hours are one hundred moments slung together, each hard-won, each lived with accelerated awareness—faster beating heart, more wariness as executive functioning retreats and the survivor in me steps forward again, called to duty, always willing b/c our very existence is at stake.
But here's the thing... to survive one of those hours is such an incredible blessing. All the breathing practice i've done, all the cultivating gratitude, all the surrendering to All Love, it all swirls together in this precious moment where i am so slow-motion exquisitely glad to be alive, near tears, still here.
so yeah, 8:11am and i feel like i've been on for hours. but still, did you see the sky this morning?
it was Beautiful.