PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Asscociated with anxiety, depression and panic disorders. More commonly affects women then men. Treatment is therapy. You can attempt to medicate. It never goes away, it just lessens. But can be trigged back up at any time.
I have PTSD. When I was 17 my dad attempted suicide. He had many times (4 others) in my life. This time though, he coded and was hospitalized for 72 hours and then released to in patient mental for 3 weeks.
I have always been terrified of being abandoned. My entire life. Its a major personality flaw. If it took physical harm to myself to make someone stay, I would do it. Burn myself? I’d do it. Pour acid on myself? In a heart beat. Just. Dont. Leave.
This event, made my dad ‘leave’ in a sense. I was in therapy for a year and a half after this, 2 times a week for 6 months, 1 time a week the next six. and every other the remaining six. It made things better. But did not unbreak them.
Day to day, I handle my PTSD and Axiety well. (at least I think so)
I dont have common or frequently occuring triggers. But they are always the same.
* If someone I care about wont answer the phone.
* Being told “oh. sorry. I cant say” and having information with held.
* Ambulences or fire trucks headed in the direction of home when I am not there.
Those three. All three relate directly to when I was 17. Dad didnt answer the phone, Someone got to me before mom and said they couldnt tell me, i had to wait for mom. And there was a multitude of emergency vehicles at the house.
When a trigger gets flipped. Its not just a ‘chill the hell out’ It DOESNT work like that. The lack of air. The shaking. The worst case scenario. The vomiting. It. Doesnt. Stop. Until I KNOW it will be okay. Telling me it is, or will be. No. Thats not going to do it. I have to almost physically be there. It is reason to drive until I have no more gas. A reason to want to hurt myself.
Unless you know what its like. You dont understand.
Its a broken in the pit of my gut. A feeling of being shoved into a dark hall. Its physical illness. Its mental torture. Its crying until I cant cry any more.
The reaction is always as strong. Even if its something no big deal, such as, the end result being, the dog had an accident when I was gone.
If I am not there. I am broken.
I am broke.
I dont know how to fix it. It hurts. It cant be fixed.
Its a feeling of hopeless. It wanting to be rejected by everyone. I want to not be loved in those moments of darkness. I want to be told I am horrible and deserve to be treated as such.
When I am not in a panic attack, I dont want these things. When I am rational. I dont want it.
but right now? I am not rational. Right now, I am broke. Right now, I cant puke anymore.