PTSD resurfacing

One of the worst things about PTSD, at the moment, for me, is the unpredictability of it. The anxiety out of nowhere, the flashbacks I struggle to contain in my head. The nights spent awake but exhausted. The dreams, the not dreams. The “have I slept?” moments; am I awake or asleep? Dreaming or daydreaming?The blurry line between fact and fiction, reality and catastrophic fantasy.
When your stress levels are really, really low, you can almost forget you have PTSD. I can see why people with my disorder retreat into a controlled, safe world just to maintain a homeostatic base stress level that has a safe buffer above it, between you and PTSD. I can see how easily you bubble back over into it when your daily stress increases.  How the days become so noisy and chaotic, how you find yourself slipping back into your head again, missing moments in reality whilst you’re lost in your own abyss. Busy places become overwhelming once more and you’re constantly on the defence. The tightening belt around your chest as you try desperately to breathe and forget. As contort away from the panic that wraps around you like a python, squeezing and squeezing. Trying desperately to fight between body and mind, between the dangers of getting lost in the psychology of a memory and the pain of remaining with the physicality.
The exhausting nights, the perpetual deja vu alongside the completely inability to grasp any concept of date or time.
And what do you see from the outside? Confusion. Forgetfulness. A short temper.
And what if I really can’t hide it from you? Pain. Pain rippling across my face.  Twisting hands. Panic. Blind panic and fear. Tension.
God I’ve missed you, PTSD.


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