It happened again today; it had been so long since the weight of PTSD crushed me into nothing. Shaking uncontrollably, my husband asks if I'm okay, and the effort of trying to reply sends me into hyperventilation. His voice is an attack, his presence is danger.
He ran his hand, softly, along my back. A gesture of comfort, he didn't know his touch terrified me. Because right now, he isn't my husband. I don't know him, and I am not safe. I need to run, I need to hide, I need to breathe. I can't. And his hand reaches out, to claim my body again, its every hand that's taken a piece of me, and I'm helpless as it holds the last shivering bit that's left.
I don't know how to explain that I know my husband, who has never so much as raised his voice to me, is going to hurt me right now. I brace myself against his hand, I have given up on trying to catch my breath. I force it out now, I will myself to crumble because I just can't do anything else. I hate the air that clogs my throat, I try to empty my lungs, which are burning now.
I don't know what my episode trigger was this morning. I know a nightmare woke me up at 4am. I know I couldn't go back to sleep. I know I got onto my computer and responded to some comments... and then something happened. I have seriously no idea what.
I felt really shaky all of a sudden, and I got back in bed. I tried to snuggle my husband, and he touched me the wrong way I guess. Not actually wrong, just wrong to me. In my stupid broken brain where I am on guard the second someone touches me.
I've fought it, fought to reclaim the way it feels when another human reaches their hand out towards me. I've forced myself to accept hugs, forced myself to feel them, and acknowledge that I was safe in that moment. I've done so much work to repair the way the world scares me. To be stronger.
I've gotten so good at it, that people usually have no idea when I am having a panic attack when it happens. I offer hugs, I start conversations. I say the thing that's really on my mind, I have to. This is the fight. If I can be happy and thrive despite the past, I win. I can still win.
I didn't think that for a very long time. I was certain I had lost at the starting line.
I hadn't had a full-on PTSD episode for over two years, but the signs were there. I had been ignoring them, thinking I had earned the right to. I haven't been all that nice to myself lately, because you know, loving yourself isn't glamorous. It's having a fancy coffee, but also decidedly not.
I made a few hours for myself on purpose Tuesday, because I knew I needed it. I had some treats, got my hair done. Really amazing experiences that I am grateful I was blessed with the bounty of! That isn't really safe care though, if you ask me. They can market to me all they want, but buying stuff is buying stuff. You can't buy a balanced soul.
Nah, self-care looks more like my meek little photo there. My first strike back at my mind, once I could breathe. I had consumed maybe 800 calories in the last 24 hours. It was the most I'd ate in a week probably. I didn't want to eat, so I made myself do it. Hey, look. An avocado, doesn't your body deserve this?
That was it, I didn't need more. Except like, I probably did. I love feeding other people, so I tried to do it for myself. Hey, let's add some more color. The pickled turnips join the party. Would I offer this to someone else now? No.
This is Walter, I made him to menace me, and add some panache. "WHADDYA doing there young lady, you had better eat your veggies, boy I tell you..." Walter says because he is red, and that is what red sounds like right now. Walter, fierce.
He eyes me up and down, and I know what he wants. What else you got, veggie girl??
I put a single raspberry on the plate to mess with him, he's too uptight.
I have a vision though, and two strawberries make it. So, I slice me up a snake, and he eats the raspberry. Walter doesn't laugh, the jerk. I don't care that this is a good thing, I'm having a day and would prefer Walter participate tbh.
I sprinkle some yuzu and zaatar on his face, whatever Walter.
Watch out food bloggers, Grindan is on the case!
Yes, it's not pretty. But it's a start. Sometimes you have to go back to basics. Feed yourself, get moving, or maybe take a break. It's situational, obviously.
Sometimes self love is making yourself eat vegetables, and trying to get a chuckle out of it, because what else are you going to do?
I coaxed myself into it, like I would for one of my children. And then I spent some time eating with them, being present. Thanking the food I eat, feeling the medicine of the water I drank. Appreciating the moment. I made it out of the bleak breathless darkness that visits sometimes, and now it was time to soak up as much light as I could.
Sometimes loving yourself is ugly. Today I made some doctors appointments I had been putting off. I cleaned my house up a bit. I exercised. I cried. Then I sang, forgetting that I'm awful at it. Life isn't about being good at everything, it's about being.
Sometimes I need to remember that. I blog about these things, because a lot of us feel alone in them. I am grateful for other Hivians who do the same, I am grateful to feel safe enough to share now. I am grateful 馃榿. So, thank you for letting me set the weight of this day down here, and move on to the next thing. May you leave some weight here too 鉂わ笍
