Life has been so horrifying these days. I’ve been officially diagnosed with PTSD. Not that it needed to be official, I’m displaying symptoms so apparent even the mail man is looking at me funny. Not the one that heard the STD convo, unfortunately. That was at Grams house.
I was starting to really think I was psychotic. Really. But both “specialists” assure me this is “normal”, ha. I can’t deal with friends, I can’t look at photos, I can’t handle crowds even if there are vintage items involved. Simple inanimate objects trigger a fight or flight response that is just not rational. I just want to be alone. I feel better when I’m alone. I’m not dealing well with anything. I can’t do the things I love, I don’t even know if I love them any more. The spaces in my brain that used to be filled will endless knowledge are filled with the same file I just cannot delete. It’s like my brain and senses are stuck on an endless loop of emotional terrorism. I live with earbuds flooding my brain with the loudest, most complicated music I can find, in order to keep the file from taking over my head completely.
It’s gotten so bad that I walk for hours on end, blasting music, like some how if I keep moving it will keep the darkness away.
I understood PTSD before, but I really didn’t. I hope none of you ever, ever do.