I was so proud of myself. Not one suicidal thought in a year... and then everything changed...
We’ve had our house on the market for almost six months and all I’ve done is worry about my husband’s and my future; where we’re going to move after we sell this house.
Over the last eight years, I’ve figured out how to survive with PTSD. Being in a place I felt safe has definitely been part of the solution. We made sure our house was secure by installing all new windows and doors, an alarm system, and adding a couple of big dogs to our family.
I had been doing so well ...so well in fact that I fooled my husband into thinking that selling our house and moving was my first choice. Over the last half year, I convinced him I was really excited about becoming Nomads when in fact I was, and still am, absolutely terrified. As you know, I’m scared of my own shadow and although I’ve made some major leaps and bounds, I honestly have no clue how I’m going to cope.
I’m so anxious about the fact that moving out of the only place I feel safe might cause a major set-back, because safety is paramount to keeping my symptoms at bay.
If I feel that the people that have been threatening me can get at me, the nightmares are going to come back with a vengeance.
Sure, some of you are going to say I’m being negative and wishing bad things to happen to me, but I’ve been living with PTSD for decades and I know what to do and what not to do, in order to keep my head in a good place.
So last week, when we got our first offer on the house, I had to be honest with my husband about my fear of moving.
He lost it.
He’d had no idea that I had been lying to him about being okay with moving, and didn’t understand the reasoning behind it.
He started yelling and I started yelling, then the PTSD took over and the next thing I knew, I had convinced myself that I was a burden. I truly believed that it would be better for everyone if they didn’t have to deal with my fucking childish behaviour anymore!
Yes, I said childish behaviour; I know it isn’t - I know it’s PTSD - but that’s what I think people are thinking when I’ve gone down the rabbit hole into Pity Lake.
It’s like a switch gets flipped inside my head and all rational thoughts go out the window; all I can think is “they” wouldn’t be so darn mad and fed up with me if I weren’t here. I know how angry and frustrated I make them, because I feel that same anger and frustration towards myself, and it makes me feel worthless.
The next thing that happened was my mouth started spewing all kinds of obnoxious crap, and in my head I could see my suicide plans coming to fruition.
I don’t really want to do it, but it’s like I’m outside of my body looking down at it, almost like an out-of-body experience. When this happens, I tell myself it’s the right thing to do and I believe, with all of my being, that everyone - and I mean EVERYONE - would be so much happier without me and my friggin’ illness.
I started to head for the bathroom because the thinking side of my brain seemed to have shut down and all I wanted to do was to end the pain - for everyone.
But, then my man brought me back to reality (again) and helped me to realize these aren’t rational thoughts. He helped me to realize that it was the PTSD making me feel this way and reassured me that there’s no way we’re going to let it beat me.
He reminded me that I’m stronger than my illness and that I need to remember that so far, every PTSD war I’ve fought, I’ve won; I’m not going to let this one be any different.
I feel ashamed and embarrassed because I feel like I’ve let everybody down. I thought about not sharing what happened because I feel like it’s an ‘epic’ fail, However, when I started writing this blog I made an agreement that there would be no more lies of omission; I would share everything about my journey, and that means sharing the steps forward, as well as the steps backwards.
...now I just need to find the courage to share and tweet about it.
Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.