Stress has a way of getting the better of you. Whether you have PTSD or not, stress is never a good thing. But I have noticed that if you DO have PTSD it is always present. Very few things in this world can make stress go away for me.
This weekend I was lucky enough to be able to work in my shop again. My hands hurt, my back aches, and my eyes are heavy. But it is all worth it, when I am in my shop working away, creating, everything else just seems to not matter.
This I found out today is not always a good thing.
I was able to spend a few hours working today, I started to restore this bar we have, and I was working on a gift for someone. I have more projects in the works but I chose to catch up on the bar, and start a new one instead. So for a few hours both today, and yesterday I was stress free. That does not however mean I didn't have stress.
I realized that when I work in my shop, I have created a space for me to be stress free. But as soon as I leave my shop the stress is there waiting for me like "B", it is curled up sleeping at the doorway. When I am done working for the day, the stress and my dog coming running back to me. I am assaulted with a wall of worry, doubt, fear, and nightmares I forgot were all mine to bear.
Then I spend the night trying to wrestle them all back into place, all that stress needs to fit back into its nice neat little package. If it doesn't it spills over, and I lash out. All of that hard work I put into maintaining is for naught. Then I hide from those I lashed out at, out of shame, and guilt.
The guilt is unbearable, I am red with embarrassment, and small in courage. I do not mean to shout or yell. I grew up in a house that always had yelling, I like a quiet house. A peaceful house. I hate how I am the one that snaps sometimes and destroys the peace in my house. I hate that I am the source of the madness, and purveyor of my disorder. I am the "dis" in the "order" that is my life.
I yell and I shout, and get angry before I can think as to why I am doing those things. Even later I do not know why I do them. I am my own worst enemy, I am the destroyer of worlds, and the defiler of peace.
I can no longer hide away in my shop, my fortress of solitude. I have to find a way for everything to work, to flow. I can not just leave my stress at the door, and let it wait there to be welcomed back when I have finished ignoring it.
What to do...
What to do, indeed.
This weekend I was lucky enough to be able to work in my shop again. My hands hurt, my back aches, and my eyes are heavy. But it is all worth it, when I am in my shop working away, creating, everything else just seems to not matter.
This I found out today is not always a good thing.
I was able to spend a few hours working today, I started to restore this bar we have, and I was working on a gift for someone. I have more projects in the works but I chose to catch up on the bar, and start a new one instead. So for a few hours both today, and yesterday I was stress free. That does not however mean I didn't have stress.
I realized that when I work in my shop, I have created a space for me to be stress free. But as soon as I leave my shop the stress is there waiting for me like "B", it is curled up sleeping at the doorway. When I am done working for the day, the stress and my dog coming running back to me. I am assaulted with a wall of worry, doubt, fear, and nightmares I forgot were all mine to bear.
Then I spend the night trying to wrestle them all back into place, all that stress needs to fit back into its nice neat little package. If it doesn't it spills over, and I lash out. All of that hard work I put into maintaining is for naught. Then I hide from those I lashed out at, out of shame, and guilt.
The guilt is unbearable, I am red with embarrassment, and small in courage. I do not mean to shout or yell. I grew up in a house that always had yelling, I like a quiet house. A peaceful house. I hate how I am the one that snaps sometimes and destroys the peace in my house. I hate that I am the source of the madness, and purveyor of my disorder. I am the "dis" in the "order" that is my life.
I yell and I shout, and get angry before I can think as to why I am doing those things. Even later I do not know why I do them. I am my own worst enemy, I am the destroyer of worlds, and the defiler of peace.
I can no longer hide away in my shop, my fortress of solitude. I have to find a way for everything to work, to flow. I can not just leave my stress at the door, and let it wait there to be welcomed back when I have finished ignoring it.
What to do...
What to do, indeed.
Sometimes the easiest person to talk to is one you don't know on a personal level. Is there someone you trust, who you have confidence will listen without judging or interrupting? It doesn't have to be a "professional"...although there's nothing wrong with that avenue either.
ReplyDeleteFamily/friends have history with you, and sometimes that can make you feel like they've already made up their minds before you get a chance to explain. I agree, hiding feels great... until you have to come back out of hiding. I know you'll figure it out. I have faith in you.
Part of why I write is because I am unable to talk about it. Even when it is brought up by people who read my blog, that I meet with in person, I am unable to voice the words necessary to convey thoughts or ideas on this subject.
DeleteI have tried, but it seems like the closer they are to me the hard it is. But I can always rely on being the mute in this subject as long as I write about it :)
"I am the 'dis' in the 'order' that is my life" - I like that sentence. Still, life itself has a habit of being very disordered and fraught with difficulties. I guess our personal disorder is just a reaction to the disorder that once was (is?) all around. And we must find a way to transcend the mess that had such an impact. It takes ongoing discipline, day after day. Damn hard, indeed...
ReplyDelete"I guess our personal disorder is just a reaction to the disorder that once was (is?) all around."
DeleteI think this is where we kind of fall off in life, from my own experiences I find that my PTSD is worsted when I am in a situation that is so disordered I know no other way of reacting except to explode. It's like a quick reset of all the jumbled chaos around. For a split second everything stops being crazy, and switches to the calm quiet that comes with someone blowing up. Like the calm after the storm is needed to find order once more. But in doing so you cause grief and sadness with those around you.