Thursday, August 27, 2015

Disappearring Act

After my last post, the big one, zero, zero, I did something I find myself doing when life gets rough for me.

I dove into work.

I dove so hard I missed entire days, maybe even a weeks worth of my medication. Huge blocks of time went missing from my mind. I still can't remember them. I forgot important things. All while coming off my medication.

Our water got turned off. Not because I didn't have the money, but because I forgot that that was a thing you do as an adult. Now someone without PTSD might ask "How do you forget to pay your water bill? It is due every month." and they are right, it does happen every month. But PTSD knows no bounds of  time, this earth or the next.

As stress increases, and the thoughts and memories claw up from the deep below, time has a way of rising and falling like the tide. Not physically, but perceptually. You may know for a fact that it is Tuesday at 8:42 A.M., but have literally no idea what time it is. You can look at your watch, or your calendar, even your phone, and instantly forget where, and when you are.

I know when I get like that, I am trying everything I can not to break down in tears. It takes all of my physical strength to just stand there, and not buckle. While others ridicule me for letting my water get turned off, as they scoff, and judge me, I am knee deep in a battle within myself. A battle I have fought countless times before.

Now my automatic response to all this stress, and loss of time and space is to dive into the one thing I have always known. Work. I work longer and longer hours. I force myself to drive forward, as an almost physical expression of my inner struggle.

Well it back fired, and forced me to slow my roll. Literally.

I dove into work so hard, I forgot a whole bunch of stuff. Like car's aren't meant to be driven as hard as you think they can. I blew the engine in my car. I ended up "working too much", as my boss put it. I drove too much, I worked too much, I forgot too much, and I missed too much. All the signs were there that I needed to stop, but with a helpless abandonment I drove forward. I fought the exhaustion, I fought the pain, and I fought the memories.

And life kicked back, like a mule.

Now, when that kick to the chest finally comes, and it comes a lot in life now. Time has a way of getting as thick as oil. Dirty, used oil. All that time you thought you didn't have comes back, and gives it all back, letting you remember all the things you did wrong. Reminding you of all the mistakes you've ever made.

My engine blew, my water got turned off, I got in trouble at work, and I neglected those telling me to stop and breathe. I lost track of my life, I lost track of time. I tried to out run my demons and failed. Even those of us that write, or talk about it everyday can forget that. We can not out run the demons within. We can not out run ourselves, or our shadows. My pain is as much a part of me, as my own breath. It gives me life, it gives me strength, it fuels me.

Sometimes in the wrong direction, and for the wrong reasons. 

2 comments :

  1. Maybe next time I shouldn't just stick my head in the door, I should yell, "Hey, are you okay?"

    I wish there were words of wisdom I could offer to make things better. All I can offer is the knowledge that I'm here...and I hear you. Keep talking. Don't shut off. And I mean that literally. If you re-read your post you may find it ironic that while you forgot to pay a bill and the water was shut off, you have shut off your tears as well. If the tears need to flow, let them! That's part of the body's stress relief system.

    I understand it must be so difficult to fight those demons inside. But yell at them, remind them that YOU are in charge here, in the present....and in the future. Just don't give up. One of my military friends lost a battle buddy this week when he became one of the 22. I didn't know him by anything other than his funny FB posts...and I cried at his loss.

    Hang in there. People care.

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  2. I second Hope's words. Welcome back Elijah. I was thinking of sending out an email already...ptsd disappearing acts are scary. And all that daily stuff that needs to happen - it is a pain and a strain. And I suck at it too, though no (longer) ptsd. Push through, keep courage, I hope your SO can be a source of strength...

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