The Ghost known as PTSD

I want to clarify something. In my last entry about it, I may have been too fanciful describing how my ghost feels and acts. Although everything I wrote is true and is what I experience, it might diminish what I am actually going through. In this entry, I am going to be straight forward. 

You know that feeling you get when someone is hovering over your shoulder, breathing down your neck. I feel that. That is where the shooter always is. On my left shoulder, hovering over me, watching everything I do. This isn't a delusion as much as it's just a sensation. If I turn to look over my shoulder, I expect to see someone there because the feeling is so real, but I know he isn't there. So why my left shoulder? Because that is where the bullet would have entered. Where he was towering over me. Right side of my head to the floor, exposing the left side of my head. It almost feels like the shadow of him has weight. Like that side of me feels heavy. It's always the left side of my head. Almost never the right side. I am thinking back now and even when I hear a noise on my right side, I think I still feel the gun on my left.

The gun sensation. It is as close to real as any imaginary friend I've ever had. I don't think I was one for imaginary friends, I don't remember having any. It's hard to describe. I am sure it feels completely different than having an actual gun to the back of the head, but it's almost real. It starts with intrusive thoughts. Usually thoughts about someone coming in and shooting me from behind or something similar. I have these thoughts several times a day (or maybe all day?). The medication usually keeps them at bay, but if I get stuck on one of those thoughts too long, it starts to materialize. I start feeling a pressing pain on the back of my head. I start to feel what I believe to be the cold metal of the barrel. It does feel like it presses into my head, and the thought actually causes a headache (or maybe the headache triggers the thought?). Either way, it doesn't stop until it goes off and "shoots me." It usually only happens if I hear a loud noise, or vividly imagine a loud noise. Then, after realizing I am not dead, the headache starts to go away. 

My crying fits are suppressed. I am sure my medication suppresses it. There are moments where I am so upset I want to cry but can't muster it up UNLESS I am really bothered or upset by it. I've tested it with sad movies and thoughts. It's officially very hard to make me cry. I did cry at my sister's reveal party and my movie friend date.

My panic attacks have been suppressed as well. I still get nervous, jumpy, and panicky. Those moments just go away faster. My panic attacks last mere seconds if not less than a minute. Except at my sister's reveal party and the movie friend date.

What I am saying is, that the attacks, both crying and panic, have gotten so much lesser. But the fact that I still feel the ghost over my shoulder and the gun to my head is still worrying. The intrusive thoughts are impossible to get rid of as well.

The Nightmares I have during the hour I sleep

Okay, this post is just going to describe the nightmares I have when I get just a tiny bit of sleep. No one really likes reading about other people's dreams so, you don't have to read it if you don't want to. Warning, I didn't sleep more than an hour last night, so I hope this entry makes sense:

Last night:
I dreamed that after a bad "friend date" at a restaurant, in which my friend ditched me, I walk out to my car. I greet my sister there. Then a ton of people start running past us. I grab her by the arm and start running too. I hide her behind a car and put my body over hers covering her. I look up. I see a white male, in a red jacket, with a long rifle. I think "Not again." I tell her to go under the car to hide and I will be the lookout for her. I hear gun shots. I wake up.

Another Dream:
It's weird. I had a very similar dream last week. It was night time. My sister and I was out walking. People start running and hiding in houses. I knew there was a shooter out. I heard gun shots. I find a parked car in a lot. I tell her to get down, and stay quiet. I shield her as she slides under the car and the foot steps of the shooter get closer and closer.

Sometime this week:
I had a dream that I was out in public with friends. I start getting anxious so I look for my medication bottle. I open it to dump a pill in my hand. Two dead flies come out instead. I wonder how they got in there and I determined they were in there for a long time (since college). Then, one of them comes back to life. Then the next. Then there were more in the bottle. All coming to life and swarming around me.

Another dream with Erich:
I think a common dream I have is where I am doing something mundane, like shopping. I remember a dream where my husband and I are in a Target shopping for things. Then from the back room gun fire starts. Every one drops to the floor or runs away. Erich has vanished. I cannot call out to him because there are multiple shooters in the store. I start crawling around, looking for him, knowing each move makes me a target. This type of dream is the second most common.

Pregnancy:
Everyone around me is pregnant so I won't go into detail on who this dream was about. Basically someone in my life who is pregnant was over my house. I was cooing at her belly and rubbing it. Then all of a sudden she goes into labor. A dead, grotesque looking baby falls out. The pregnant girl starts wailing, screaming, crying. The imagery is awful. Dreams like this, where the images are twisted and grotesque happen all the time.

Getting shot in the head:
I dream I get shot in the head a lot. One that I remember most vividly is I am walking in my grandmother's neighborhood. I hear gun shots. I duck us between two parked cars. The gun man, a black older male, sees us. I am shielding my grandmother and I put my hand in front of my face. He shoots me in the head. This type of dream is the most common.

End of the world
Another type of dream I have is when it's the end of the world or the Apocalypse. It's usually in the form of an unstoppable force. One dream I had recently is a giant asteroid, as big as a planet, is crashing into Earth. There is no stopping it. My whole dream is panicking, chaos in the streets, and then the eventual death of every living thing and the destruction of the planet.

In conclusion, these nightmares most likely contribute to why I am not sleeping. Why go to sleep when something awful happens, my life is at risk, or I die? I am begging for sleep though. It has gotten to the point where I am scared to drive. Driving makes me want to fall asleep behind the wheel. I need to remember to tell this to my psychiatrist tomorrow. I hope I remember to and do not downplay it.

Can't keep my eyes open

I am so tired from lack of sleep.
When I blink while driving I feel I could pass out then.
When I get home I am wide awake.
Friday is my next appointment.
I am going to ask her about sending me on short term disability or stress leave.
I cannot function properly anymore. I need time off.

Beauty and PTSD

So here is the update to the post I wrote yesterday.

So I was feeling nervous because there were Thunderstorms all afternoon. They were mild and not very "thunder-y" but I was still on edge. I was able to get to our Friends house after some moments on the drive over, then proceeded to block out the Thunder with alcohol!

First off, let me say, dinner was Fantastic. I doubt the people who made it will read this but it was absolutely delicious. I have left overs packed for lunch today. Homemade sopes (pellizcadas), and some with homemade vegan chorizo for me! Absolutely delicious..

Anyway, I still proceeded to get drunk and I got drunk fast. I was ready to venture into the storm and take on this movie... This kids movie by Disney... the live action Beauty and the Beast. I mean, we were going on a Monday night, during a storm, no one will be there! I got my earplugs and I am feeling buzzed! It shouldn't be that bad, right?

This brings me to desensitization. I never realized how everyone around me have become so used to standard violence. Even in that sentence I used the word "standard." Movies with violence never really bothered me. I say my limit is probably body horror films. Those make me squirm, but I still enjoy it! But violence in a kids movie? Laughable! Never in my dreams would I have thought a kids movie would mess me up so much.

I would like to point out that no one warned me that there were violent parts in the film. It's because they probably didn't really notice it. The part at the beginning when Maurice is being attacked by wolves... My eyes were covered and I panicked. Several jump scares later and we are Midway through the movie. There is a song praising Gaston, and a gun goes off during it. I jump and get nervous. The climax of the film... I didn't see it at all. There were too many surprise gunshots to count. Actually, I did count the first few. They were back to back to back. Pow....Pow...POW. Almost to the same beat at the airport. I cried. I cried hard. I tried to contain myself, but I couldn't. I was sobbing, next to my friend, and I didn't want her to feel awkward but I couldn't stop. My eyes were still closed as the tears poured.

The fact is, it's a KIDS MOVIE. And I was startled by it often. I was driven to the point of tears. I now wonder if I will always be easily startled or triggered by gunshots.

BUT! I did go to the movies. I  made it all the way through. So at least that is one goal I can tick off. Next time might be easier. I might have to stick with kid movies for a while though.

Erich's talk didn't happen yesterday. But he had a fun day. I did ask him one question, if he remembers his episode. He told me no, not really. That is probably a sign of something bad. It's what my psychiatrist specifically asked me to ask him. It's our anniversary today. I won't bring it up today. But I might bring it up tomorrow. I will be brave and feel him out, and have a talk with him myself... I just don't know where to start and I don't want to trigger him again :'(

Still not getting sleep... I am so exhausted I feel like I can pass out when I am driving... but not when I get home. I would love one full night of rest!

More shootings and attacks

Every day it seems: Another shooting, another terrorist attack. Are they happening more often, or am I noticing them more often, or is media so wide spread in this age that we hear about all of them, no matter where they happen?

My heart hurts for those involved. Someone died in Louisville because of shooting, several were injured though. There was another in Ohio this weekend. 14 injured, one died. The terrorist attacks in the UK, the attacks in Canada, the attacks in Syria... My heart is broken not only for the family of those who lost loved ones, but those who will have to go through the same things I have and will continue to go through.

I think it's time. I am going to reach out to support groups. Maybe when I am all better I can volunteer at them as well.

Weekend

Trying to continue on with my updates, but they are starting to sound more like Journal entries. I don't know if it matters any more. It's the same stuff over and over.

I had a good Saturday night. Went out to eat with a friend, then went to two stores, then back to her house, then home.

I had an okay Sunday. My sister had a small Reveal party. It was crowded. Tried my best to stay the whole time, couldn't. Went home.

Even though there has been a ton of progress, this weekend has taught me that there is still work to be done. I had an absolutely fine Saturday with low anxiety and no panic attacks. It was 100% okay. I had a bad Sunday because of the crowded event space and loud noises (and sirens every few minutes it seemed).

I think it is safe to say that noise is still a trigger; crowds, less so. I still have intrusive thoughts but they do not trigger any attacks. For example, on both days, wherever I was located, I still had to find the exits and hiding spots and STILL had the fantasy of a person or persons shooting up the place. I envision it and try to mentally prepare myself of it happening.

Another weird thing that is still present. The gun. I cannot recall the situation or times, but the gun was back. I could feel it pressing into my head. It is starting to cause actual headaches. I try to make the gun go off on my own, but I cannot control it. It has to go off when there is a loud noise. Sometimes the noise is imaginary - all in my head - and it goes off. Sometimes it's an actual loud noise. Either way, I feel relief when it goes off. Well, terror first because it's another "I'm dead" moment, but then an odd relief that the gun is no longer there, or it's presence is diminishing. It's really hard to explain, I guess. I know it makes me sound crazy. It's just something that will get better with time.

For the good stuff: FRIDAY!
I finally got to see my psychiatrist again. It was a big relief, since it was 3 weeks since I saw her last. I didn't have time to continue with my prolonged exposure therapy, but I did get to vent about the last few weeks. The highlights were, in this order we discussed them: Work situation (they believe I am faking it and milking the situation), Erich's episode, and insomnia/nightmares.

Work situation... it seemed more like a vent. She didn't offer many solutions except "Figure out what you want to do (quit, improve work performance, etc.) and I can give you the supporting documents for it. So, not very satisfied with that, but I didn't want to spend much longer talking about it.

Erich's Episode. She said it's not "unusual" basically. She said, obviously, if I feel he might be a danger to anyone or himself there are ways to deal with it. We discussed each way, but at the moment, I don't think it will come to that. She said it was most likely an extreme build up of emotion - that he was most likely holding all his thoughts and feelings down and they just exploded out. I believe that. He's been the strong one way too often and I don't think he's been letting it all out properly. So there is a good chance it was literally just that. She wants me to do two things with Erich, that I have yet to do: Ask him if he remembers it all and then tell him how scared I was. It will kick his butt into gear to be more open with his emotions, to help him to continue therapy, and to take his medication!!! He will be having a heart to heart with a friend later tonight about it. I hope that it works and then I can easy my way into talking to him about it. I truly hope all goes well and it's not a "big" thing. I really hope he can confine in his best friend tonight. Crossing all of my fingers this works. My psychiatrist agrees and thinks this is the way to go as well, so at least there is that!

Other than that, I still feel my medication working. I cannot shut off  my sense of humor. I guess it was suppressed for so long that I am pulling out every quip and zinger I know. I am happy. Like feeling genuine happiness (or is it artificial because it's a result of the medication)? Idk. It's happiness though, and I guess that's all I can ask for. I am going to bask in it until my next prolonged exposure session on Friday. I know that will probably make my mood shift, but we will see.

Small victory:
I finished my letter to Anne Andres. Not sure if I will send or not.

Goals I need to complete:
I need to write letter to First responders. This was something I definitely wanted to do. There was particularly one who was looking out for me. I believe his name was Deputy/Detective/Officer Hutchins (or something very similar). He knew I was struggling with my asthma and made sure to check on me and then find me to take me to the EMT's. Those guys helped so many people, they need to be thanked.

Oh! I am going to the movies today... Or at least trying to. Monday Night seems to be quiet, and we are going to see a Disney movie, so I am sure it will be okay. Bringing my earplugs just in case and if I have to cry, at least no one will see me. During this time, Erich will be having his heart to heart so I hope it's a good night all around.

Okay. That's it for now! I'll update next time on how everything goes.

Still in bed

I am writing this from my bed. It's 10:10 am on a Sunday. Last night I took some melatonin to help me sleep. It didn't work. Another sleepless night. Another nightmare.

I had plans to make today's entry a positive one, but I have so much to do today that I doubt I will be able to write it. I have to get up soon. I have to get my day started. But my body is exhausted and my mind isn't fully awake. I am begging for sleep.

Are you afraid of the dark? Because I am!

Title is supposed to be funny, but maybe it's not? It came to me early this morning as I was remembering that old show on Nickelodeon and I thought it was. Looking at it now, it doesn't seem very funny, does it? Maybe I have to work more on my humor.

Either way, the title is true. I am now afraid of the dark. Driving at night makes me uncomfortable (and panicked). I haven't tried going out anywhere at night yet, except that one time I did try to go to the movies and couldn't make it inside. The darkness at night, inside, is what gets me. My ghost inhabits the darkness around me.

Yesterday, I was getting ready for bed. Erich stays up much later than me so I was about to jump into bed, when he turned out the lights. I froze (why is my fight or flight reflex stuck on Freeze??). It was only for a few beats and then I started pulling back the covers. He started walking towards me... in the dark... I may have freaked out slightly. 

I put my arm out to stop him from coming closer to me. I knew he was just trying to hug me and tuck me in, but I couldn't handle it. I felt panicked and unsafe. I notice I use the word panic/panicked/panic attack so much lately, but it's the main emotion I feel. It is absolutely a panic. I knew it was Erich in the dark. I knew he had good intentions. But I didn't want him to come closer to me without me seeing his face. I expressed this vocally, but telling him to please stop. He could tell from my voice, everything that was going on in my mind. He turned the lights back on.

I got into bed and turned the TV on. I cannot sleep without the TV on now. It sucks. I hate the static noises that come from the electronics. They fizz and buzz inside the TV and it digs deep in my brain. But the glow puts me at ease, and the voices on the shows help put me to rest. It works for a while, but then I wake up again. The noise sucks when I wake up and try to go back to sleep. So I turn it off.

I feel like I can handle the dark when I wake up in the early hours of the morning. It works for several minutes until the fear settles in again. I stare at the ceiling or I look out to the room. My eyes are wide. I can feel that how wide they are. I don't blink and I cannot close them. Thus, it triggers an attack. 

They are getting easier to deal with, but it still sucks. I miss sleep. I miss being in complete darkness and silence as I drift off. I started developing a slight eye twitch. Google is telling me it's from lack of sleep and stress. I need sleep so bad, but I can only get it on the weekends during the daytime. I am considering taking sleeping pills, but I feel like that is a rabbit hole I don't want to go down. Too many accidentally OD's from combining medication. It's tempting though.

Gosh. I feel like I might pass out at my desk writing this. I am so tired. I got maybe 2 hours of sleep last night. Maybe 3? Like I said before, when I get 3-4 hours, it's a blessing. If I was stronger, if I wasn't afraid of the dark, I could be normal again. I could have a life. I could get some rest.

It's Working!

Now for a positive entry!

The medicine has to be working! First thing I started to notice... My sense of humor has returned! I've been cracking jokes on people left and right. Also, could I be any more sarcastic? Seriously. My sarcasm is at an all time high. I am laughing again!! It feels great :)

Second thing I am noticing, noise are not bothering me as much as they should. I still recognize loud noises but unless it's very loud (a scream, a clap in my ear, fireworks) I don't really jump. Maybe still flinch and the occasional audible gasp, but I am not triggered into a panic attack (Yay)!

Another thing... My vocabulary and spelling is improving. THANK GOD. It was elementary!! I was confusing hear and here and her a little too much for my liking. Like the basic spelling of things so basic... It just wasn't working out for me. So some signs of brain function!

I haven't had a panic attack in a few days (minus the occasional early morning ones). But like, it's not disrupting my day or activity or anything. It's literally just in the wee hours of the morning (right now).

I am trying to get focused and start doing activities. For example, I would come home from work and then go straight to bed and lay there the rest of the night until I had to get up for work. Now I challenge myself to stay up. I started baking and making dinner again. Chores too! Just gotta keep pushing myself into a better routine, no matter if I don't feel like doing it or not.

I wont' talk about the negatives right now. I need to stay focused on the positives. My life isn't doom and gloom all the time. I need to remind myself of that. 

SHORT TERM GOALS:

I want to continue to bake.

I need to get out of the house at least 3 days a week, and go from there.

I need to start exorcising and watching what I eat again

Continue to write often and improve my vocabulary.

Find a new job!

Make it into the movie theater again.

LONG TERM GOALS:

Make it into the movie theater again. (Kendra told me to put this on the short term goals, but just in case...)

Challenge myself with something thrilling (roller-coaster? scary movie? something...)

Start reading books again! I have to get back into reading books! I miss them! This might be a short term goal... oh well, we'll see :)

VERY LONG TERM GOALS:
View an airport baggage claim.
Look at a gun.
Listen to gun shots or fireworks. 

London attack

There was another terrorist attack today. Several dead, many injured. I never want to leave the house.

https://amp.theguardian.com/uk-news/2017/mar/22/attack-houses-parliament-london-what-we-know-so-far

He was a product of a flawed system

Today I am going to talk about him, and this will be the only mention of his name since it's hard to write: Esteban Santiago.

I've read up all that I could about him. The FBI is supposed to release more information to us as it comes but here is what I know and recall from what I read (it's so hard to reread this stuff).

He was a mentally ill veteran. He tried to get help one day. He turned himself in and he turned the gun over. He told them everything that was on his mind. He thought the government was controlling his thoughts and was trying to recruit him for Isis. He turned himself in and turned over his gun. He told them that he was going to hurt people, and he tried to prevent that. So he sought out help and gave them his gun! A few weeks later they said he was fine and gave him back his gun. He went on to board a plane to Fort Lauderdale with that gun.

So here is the thing. After all I'm going through, after all the other victims are going through, and after all the people he has hurt... I feel nothing but sadness and pity for him. Here is where I might get some flack for my thoughts but they are mine to have. He is a victim of a flawed system. A system that doesn't take care of the mentally ill. A system that doesn't take care of our veterans. A system that doesn't listen to those who need someone to listen to them. So many sick people in the world, so many wanting help but not being able to receive it. It's a shame.

I understand it better as now I am a part of the cycle. I have issues (obviously) and I am seeking help to overcome the issues I have. If these issues were to be untreated, who knows how that would affect me and those around me. Who knows what the human body is capable of when the human mind has gone untreated.

I couldn't sleep again last night. In my search to occupy my thoughts I stumbled upon a website called Goodbye Warden. It's the last words of death row inmates at a prison. The point of the project isn't to take a political stance but rather show the last thoughts of someone who is about to die. I stayed up and read at least 200 of the 540 entries. It really got me thinking about Him and all the other people on death row.

I won't get too political but there were several people who proclaimed their innocents until the end. There is an estimated 5% of the inmates are innocent. Innocent people who have been appealing the system for years trying to prove it and then having to die. I related heavily to them. I felt I was innocent and I was waiting to die, although I didn't have time to prepare a speech or find the peace that many of the inmates received, I still felt an odd sense of connection with each entry I read. Some were angry until the end, some were poetic, some were apologetic, some blame shifted, and many found religion and peace. I felt I had to read every entry but I had to stop eventually after a few intense ones.

Okay, on to the point...

I am looking to find purpose in the world. So many people have shoved "you survived for a reason" down my throat that I am actively trying to find that reason. As of now there are few things I am wanting to do to help fill that purpose. I want to help other victims like me: Survivors of trauma. Survivors of terrorist attacks. PTSD sufferers... I want to reach out and offer them any help and guidance I can. That, I think, is probably a given if you know me already. The thing that I didn't see coming is I want to reach out to death row inmates. It's weird, I know. Trust me, it caught me off guard when I thought it the first time as well.

I was a fence sitter on the death penalty. I saw both sides of the argument, and I still continue to see new emerging pros and cons of each side of the issue as well. The system is broken, and that is an absolute fact. From preventing crime to the punishment thereof. Fort Lauderdale could have been prevented. The shooter himself tried to prevent it. That's bad enough, but to think of the innocent people who are knowingly going to their deaths? That's a tough pill to swallow.

I feel like this urge to reach out to them is weird. Should have the opposite desire? I am not sure if I will feel the same tomorrow or the next day, but I feel it strongly now. To help people on both sides. To help them all feel at peace. This is where I am at currently. That site sparked something in me. However, many of them are also not innocent. They have done horrid things and have caused suffering. Do they deserve someone reaching out to them? I honestly don't know.

The shooter is not innocent. He committed the crime and that is a fact. His trial isn't until much later this year, but he is looking at the death penalty. If I am honest, I don't want to reach out to him. I have a curiosity of what he might say, but it would harm me more than I am willing to allow. I feel nothing but sadness for his life up to that point and nothing but pity for him now. I am not angry at him, although I feel I should be. His story is a tragedy. But the others that didn't personally impact my life... maybe they can find solace with me, and I with them.

Nihilism and Finding Happiness again

There is a aphorism out there: There are no atheist in foxholes.

I never really considered myself an atheist. I felt that the universe was governed by some collective energy from which life had emerged from; when we day we become part of that collective. I don't have a religion, I would say the closest belief system I fall under is Jadeism with a little Buddhism too. Live and let live, Don't cause any living creature pain or suffering, Find happiness and meaning in your own life... These were mantras I practiced daily. No matter what religion or belief system you fall under, I don't believe "being nice" is seen as a fault (I would hope). So no matter what the force out there governing the world, I believed I was doing right by the universe.

There are no atheist in foxholes.

During my "foxhole" experience I surpassed atheism and went straight to nihilism. While I was down on the ground I knew the moment that bullet entered my brain that was it. Darkness forever. Nothing more from my life. Just darkness.

I had a few "near death" experiences in my life. My dad tried to kill me and my family once upon a time. He had a grenade, guns, and a hunting bow that he tried to use on all of us. My family still suffers the effects of that night. He was never a nice guy anyways. On that night I was brave, I stood up to him, and I believe I probably helped save my family. It was an trauma that I don't think I ever fully grasped how close to death I was that night, but all I can remember thinking during the whole ordeal is "If I don't get up now and try and stop him, my family and pets will die." I didn't care much about myself that time. I was about 13 or 14 years old.

One time I had pneumonia that the immediate care doctors didn't catch. I was sick for two months before I collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. My mom was there and she barely, about to walk out the door when I collapsed. She grabbed me and threw me in the car. As she was speeding through traffic freaking out as I was not really breathing well at all, I thought: I hope this doesn't traumatize my mom. I was okay and ready to die, but devastated at the thought that my mom wouldn't recover.

You see, I never was scared of dying. The thought of dying old to Young Jessica was not on my radar. I wanted to lead an exciting life full of risks and adventure and laugh in the face of death. With these past experiences I was never afraid of what came after death. Life was just too exciting to give a second worry to dying.

This foxhole experience was completely opposite from my past. I felt helpless. Hopeless. There was nothing I could do, no way to stand up to the stranger. I think my brain searched for meaning in what was happening but it couldn't find an answer. The only thoughts I can recall having is knowing I was going to die, or Erich was going to die, and that would be it. Darkness. For the first time ever, I was scared to die.

For weeks after the attack I was pure nihilistic. There was no meaning in the attack so there was really no meaning in the world. I've read the obituaries and news stories of all the victims. I have a special attachment to Terry Andres so I focused on him more than the others. You know what their loved ones had to say about them? That they were kind. That they've lead an amazing life. They had children and grandchildren. They were strong church going folk who gave back to the community.

Church going folks who gave back to the community.

I hated how people tried to make me deal with it. I am surprised I typed that out. Hated? I guess this is the first time I am admitting it to myself so I am genuinely surprised I wrote hated. I guess it is true. At this moment I hate that people told me "You survived for a reason." "This experience must make you believe in God! How could you not, you survived!" "I prayed for you extra hard and that's why you survived." "God must have a plan for you because you survived!"

I hate living in the bible belt sometimes.

Live and let live, right? I am the most liberal and tolerant person I know! I am kind to everyone, even the people who make me upset or angry. Kill em' with kindness was another mantra I practiced daily. It worked for so long. And then all of a sudden happiness was meaningless. Life was meaningless. You can believe in God and do good all of your life and still die a violent death. Meaningless.

Don't worry, dear reader, I didn't stay a nihilist for long. It lasted a few weeks and then I started getting back to my normal self with one hiccup. I am now terrified of dying. I hope when I fully recover I will no longer be terrified of death and I can go back to remembering death is just a part of life. It's hard though when the nightmares remind you of the hopelessness all over again.

Anyway, today on WFPK Louisville Free Public Media, the following song came on:





On the way into work, it really spoke to me. First, I decided to randomly turn on the radio (something I've been avoiding). A charming song Chuck Berry "Too Pooped to Pop" was just ending and then this song came on. It's really good song by a band I've never heard of and I was just drawn into the lyrics immediately. I think this song currently voices where I stand at the moment. But I have hope that I will become more optimistic sooner than later. Where did this optimism come from?

Half way through writing this blog post my co-worker stopped in. She was telling me about her friend she is staying with who lives on a farm with a Pig named Wilber and a duck named Quackers. I have always wanted to own a pig and duck (and cow and chicken...). To find out that the duck was named what I've always imagined naming my duck lit up my face. Seriously, I was going to call my duck General Quackers (the chicken Sergeant McCluck Cluck, the pig Commander Ham Ham and the cow Major Mooers). Back to the story, hearing that instantly put me in a good a mood.

Next thing that happened was my second co-worker bursts into my office and was complaining about the day she knows she was going to have, but told me to put on this song:

We all got up and danced the whole song. Imitating the dances we saw, making our own, clapping to the beat. It was the most fun I've had in the office. Then I look back on the rest of my week, and it's been pretty okay. I cleaned my house thoroughly. Did so many chores! I baked some delicious cookies. I hung out with friends and had a fire pit in my yard while my dog and his girlfriend played around us. I still haven't found personal meaning in it all, but there was some sort of meaning in it. In life. In this universe. It's a fleeting thought but for now, I will hold on to it as long as I can.

Cognitive Distortion

This is an article about Cognitive Distortion that was given to me.

This is what Cognitive Distortion feels like - referencing the first time I tried to grocery shop with my husband:

As soon as I walked into the store my heart started racing. When people walk behind me I start breathing heavily and I have to turn around immediately and face them. From the moment I am in the store until I leave I truly believe (as in, it seems like an absolute fact to me) that someone is going to shoot up the store. I have to identify the exits, I have to identify all the places I could successfully hide, I have to identify who might be a shooter. I am usually super panicked and glued to the cart or my husband. I weep silently because I know it is coming, that someone is coming to shoot up the store. I know that many people will die. It seems like an absolute fact to me.

This is something I have been able to slowly overcome. I still have those thoughts, where I have to identify all exits and hiding places, and I still imagine people coming in to shoot up the place. But I no longer feel super panicked. My anxiety used to be around a 7/10 or 8/10 (with 1 being not anxious at all, and 10 people total meltdown). Now my anxiety hovers around a 3 or 4, depending on how long we are in the store. I have to thank my medication for that. My mind still reacts, but my body doesn't - definitely the medication working.

I still cannot retain memory well. My short term memory is almost useless. Sometimes people have to tell me the same thing over and over again. I hear them, I know what they say, but a few minutes later I cannot recall what we were talking about. Absent minded is the word. I also cannot think clearly. I have no idea how I am writing these blog entries lately. I guess I am powering through the absent mindedness? Without going back and rereading it, which I haven't, I have no idea what I typed just yesterday.

It's a pain. I cannot concentrate on anything. I cannot focus. I cannot remember. It's like a big hazy mess in my head. I cannot even spell properly. I cannot hold conversations, I cannot focus on tv or reading.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste and I feel like it's wasting away now.

My Husband's maybe PTSD episode?

Tragedy affects people different. Someone can get their legs blown off during a marathon and continue to race as soon as they are used to their prosthetic. Then there are people like me, who survive these attacks and feel like they will never be brave again. There are also people like my husband. They seem calm, cool, collected but whatever they bottle up is explosive in a very unsettling way.

I thought he was doing better than I was. He could go out in public, he is down to one panic attack a week or so. Today he gave me a reason to be afraid, and I am not sure if I can help him, who to talk to, or who to turn to with this.

He definitely is suffering from some sort of PTSD (undiagnosed). He is bottling it all up and then I trigger it. I trigger it by being opened and honest. I told him something he did effected me. I told him I wasn't mad or anything, I just mentioned it matter-of-factly. Then about 40 minutes later he is set off into an uncontrollable psychosis that I felt he couldn't return from.

It lasted an hour and a half.

I am terrified of this happening again. I fear that he will take his life if it happens again. Maybe he will take my life as well. I am not sure. I just know I felt helpless and I tried to comfort him as best as I could, but he was the definition of crazy. I just hope it doesn't happen again and he gets help.

Writing this seems like the type of thing you hear people say before they die. You wonder why they didn't seek help sooner, or why didn't they see this as a warning sign. Well, I can tell you right now it's 100% because I love him and I trust him to a degree and I seriously think this is something I can handle on my own... even if deep down I know I can't. I just hope we can get this under control and nothing bad comes from me waiting to reach out to someone.

Nightmares and Insomnia

Every night it's the same thing. I cannot fall asleep without the TV on. Then I cannot stay asleep. I have nightmares every night. Nightmares about the darkness.

I dream about getting shot in the head. I dream about the incident taking place at another time. I dream about going back in time to stop it. I dream that the world is ending. I dream that I have gone crazy.

All my nightmares seem so real. I can feel and smell and taste. I am doing normal things and nothing seems out of place. The fear is so real. I can no longer control my dreams. I am helpless.

I just don't sleep anymore. If I sleep for an hour I have a nightmare, then I cannot go back to sleep until several hours later, only to have another nightmare. I think I get an average 2-3 hours of sleep a night. Maybe 4 hours if I'm lucky. I trudge through the day like nothing happened through the night and then go back home to repeat this cycle.

Only on weekends, when the light is out and I know nothing stressful will happen, do I get sleep. I still have nightmares at night, but I can wake up to a day with no responsibilities and I can just nap the whole day away. And I absolutely do.

I am crazy

I feel like I am going crazy. I know I am crazy already but I truly feel it now. I can't sleep. I can't think. I am still suffering from Cognitive distortion. I can't retain information, and I cannot form serious coherent thoughts for longer than moments at a time.

I just want to cry and sleep and it's becoming harder to sleep.

I don't do anything any more. Everything that made me who I am has been tossed out the window. I can't go to or enjoy movies. I have no sense of humor. I don't even want to write or listen to music or watch TV. My creativity has vanished. All I can talk about is how sad I am. When I don't talk about being sad or scared, all I can do is listen and not even respond to what I am listening to. Then in moments I forget what the conversation was about.

I am irritable. I am not social. I am lazy. I hate this person.

I know going for the little sleep I get will be filled with nightmares. Then I wake to a panic attack. Then I wake to a day where I can no longer function. Then I repeat it all over again.

What a PTSD episode is like. Entry#1

So ASD episodes only last about 4-6 weeks after the original incident. I am on week 9 as I write this. After 4-6 weeks everything you experience is officially PTSD and the episodes are so different than what I was experiencing. Not better, not worse, just different. I had my first PTSD episode during a Storm that happened last week, or the week before. It's hard to remember. I still have issues with my cognitive thinking and time seems to move so fast as well.

So basically there was a big storm that rolled through town. It started around 6 AM and really got bad around 6:34 AM. It's weird that I can remember the time. I have this app on my phone called "Calm" and I turned on the sound and was trying to soothe myself. I knew I was about to have a panic attack. And I did.

Every time the Thunder sounded I felt like I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. I had no thoughts. All I could do was hear the storm and I felt like I was going to die. I was trying so hard to keep it together and I just couldn't. I couldn't move. It was basically a Panic Attack but it lasted longer. Erich tried to calm me down as best as he could and I eventually was able to sit up. Once I sat up, still sobbing, I called my mom to see if she could pick me up for work. Erich was about to leave for his job so it was close to 8AM. After I hung up the phone, Erich started to walk out the door. The thunder was still rolling and I fell down, paralyzed, and continued to cry. I didn't want him to stay and baby me, but he did. He got back in bed and held me through it.

This second wind of the episode really freaked me out. I couldn't control my body. Seriously. I felt like I was constantly squirming within my body but I had no thoughts, just impending doom. Sometimes my arms would jerk and hit the bed over and over again. No control. So here I am, crying LOUDLY (the neighbors could have heard me for all I know), feeling like I am squirming yet paralyzed, cannot control my flailing arms and legs, and just feeling like I was going to die. I couldn't think at all. I wanted to think, to hold on to one coherent thought and I couldn't. I could hear Erich's voice and feel him holding me, but every time the thunder sounded or I saw the flash of lightening I just couldn't control myself - it made everything worse.

15 minutes before I was supposed to go into work, with the help of Erich, I was able to notify my bosses that I was going to be late/not come in today. It was awful. I just couldn't get a hold of myself. It was about 9 AM before I was calm again. I could move, I could talk, I could breathe, I didn't feel like I was dying. I was all cried out. Erich stayed with me for another 40 minutes and I tried to go to work at the same time he left.

I am pretty annoyed with myself for going into work for two reasons. 1) That was a serious episode that lasted like 2 hours and I didn't fully recover even while at work, and had a very bad rest of the day. 2) My work didn't appreciate me coming in. Yes, my work thought I was "milking" the incident and "faking/exaggerating" everything - Including the attacks I've had at work IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE. So on top of the stress I'm already feeling, my bosses are treating me as if I am lying about everything. It hurt so much to hear because I have a strong work and I wanted to prove to them that I am more powerful than these episodes... I put in as much will power and determination to prove that I a can still do my job for their sake (they need me, it's a busy busy time) and to feel like they think I am a liar and I am using this terrorist attack as an excuse to miss work - not even a full day, just a few hours... I am just speechless. I had to cry after I heard that.

Sorry, went off on a tangent. The point is, I shouldn't have gone into work that day. I shouldn't have gone into work as fast as I did anyway! So please, if you have these moments or you've survived something traumatic, please take time for yourself. Don't worry about your job right now. Worry about yourself because sometimes your job won't worry about you. Surround yourself with people to bring you back to reality and to remind you that you are loved. Please, do it.

What an ASD episode is like: Entry #2

I am trying to post different examples of what ASD attacks are like and what may or may not trigger them. This one is similar to the last episode I posted about but lasted at least an hour, possibly longer.

So this episode happened right after I we got home. I cannot remember the day or time. I remember it was before I started seeing my psychiatrist and I still wasn't leaving my house. My family decided to come over, and when I say my family I mean my whole immediate family and my nieces and nephew. I am not 100% sure what triggered it, but it could have been a combination of many things:

My safe space was crowded. There were 7 extra people in my house and a baby. They all wanted to see me. It was the first time seeing them since I came back home.

They wanted to watch the new Captain America Movie and there was a ton of shooting going on. I didn't stay in the room with the TV on.

The Ice Machine in the kitchen made a noise.

Someone popped a cork.

I started drinking to handle the pressure I was feeling.

I left the room and started feeling dizzy. I was sitting away from everyone in our office when I noticed I hadn't seen Erich in a while. I start worrying internally. Was he okay? Where did he go? I searched the bedroom and then went to the basement. He was with my niece trying to set her up on the gaming system. I sit next to him and ask him if he's okay. He nods and says he's fine. That's when I realized I wasn't okay. I went to our spare bedroom in the basement and start crying. Just uncontrollably crying. Hysterically. He immediately runs into the room and holds me. I start worrying about my niece, because I didn't want her to hear my cry, but there is no doubt the whole house could hear me cry.

My sister came in and she started comforting me. I couldn't breath, I needed my inhaler. My sister left to go find it and she shut the door quietly. Erich was still there, but seeing the door shut made me flip out. Reality started to blur. When I saw that door shut I started shouting "He's here. Oh god he's here he's here and he's coming." I was back on the floor of the airport again. He was pacing back and forth again. Erich kept repeating "We're home, we're safe, I'm here." I tried to focus on his voice but I was so scared. I was shaking I couldn't breath. My sister gave me my inhaler and I took a few puffs. It started to calm me down but I was still sobbing. I couldn't stop. My sister was rubbing my back, Erich was reminding me I was safe, and there was calming music playing. I couldn't stop.

It was about an hour or so later before I could leave the room. I'm not going to lie, my sister gave me one of her kpins and I really started to calm down. I left the room with my sister and Erich. The rest of my family was starting to leave and I couldn't take hearing their steps upstairs. I didn't think I was able to climb the stairs either because my legs were so weak. I was wrapped in a cover on my couch in the basement just waiting for the Kpin to kick in. It did eventually and Kristen and Beau ended up leaving. I honestly don't remember what happened after they left.

This was one of the first ASD episodes I had. I have had many since then. And now I have PTSD episodes. I will describe them in the next entry.

What an ASD episode is like: Entry #1

Here is an example of what an ASD attack feels like. I am using an example that I wrote about when I had an attack at work. I will probably have several entries about ASD/PTSD episodes because I just couldn't find any firsthand experiences online. So here are my first hand experiences.

Basically, when I first started taking the medication, I started a small journal to track side effects and to maybe see if the medicine actually worked. The Buspirone was supposed to work faster than the Setraline and I could take that as needed. This is on a day I took 3 buspirone pills in one day. This was my second day back to work since the incident and I definitely believe I went back to work way too early. Seriously, if you go through something like this, take 2-3 weeks off of work. When you feel like you are ready to go back to work and you are confident and positive, WAIT ONE MORE DAY just to be sure. I wish someone told me. I was not ready for work and I feel like I am just NOW ready for work. Anyways, this is what I wrote in my journal vs what I actually felt and experienced. 

This is what I wrote:

TUESDAY 1/24/2017- Slept deeply but had a bad realistic dream that woke me up around 4 AM. Had trouble getting back to sleep. Took BuSpar at 8:30 AM. Still worried about driving but made it to work okay. I told the story to my boss who went through something similar (low details). Wanted to cry but didn't. Medicine started to work?

12:10 I have a head ache. Feel tired

12:32 I feel numb. Everything seems louder than normal. Getting jumpy in my skin. Going to cry. Feeling confused. Going to look for someone to talk to.

12:50 Freaked out. Had an attack Didn't know where I was. It's over now.

1:48 took another pill.

5:16 I just don't understand why I'm alive. I don't understand. I don't deserve it. I should have died. Nothingness.

This is what I can remember experiencing:

I was feeling fine. Confident after I talked to my boss. I told him if I ever feel confused, that my psychiatrist told me to find someone and start talking to them normally. Having a normal conversation would keep me from flashing back. He understood. I sat at my desk and I wanted to just focus on work and getting back to normal. If I could just have a normal day at work, I knew I would be fine. I was sitting at my computer and I started getting a bad headache. I was doing data entry and I could hear the thundering of the keys being pressed as I typed in each word (hyperacusis). The headache started at least an hour before I wrote it out. I also felt super drowsy, I could fall asleep if I put my head down on my desk but I just wanted to work through the headache and focus on getting through the day.

As I was looking down at a piece of paper, getting the information off of it to enter into our database, I started to really zone in on the color of the paper. The color seemed off. I couldn't really understand why the paper was that color. Then my vision started getting fuzzy - I believe it was more like a tunnel vision where I could see what was directly in front of my eyes but I couldn't focus on anything around that paper. The only thing that existed in my vision was that off-colored paper. That's when I started questioning everything. 

My chest tightened and my breathing was short and heavy. I tried to stand to find someone to talk to but I couldn't and I collapsed on the ground. In my head I thought this wasn't real. That everything around me was a dream and it was a coping mechanism my brain created because I was still on the ground waiting to die. I saw the carpet and I saw the shooters shoes again. I could hear the popping noise the gun made. I curled up into a ball trying to control my breathing. I still thought I was there on the ground, waiting to die. My boss found me, he shut the door to my office. He softly spoke to me, Are you alright? You're in Louisville. You're safe. He repeated "You're safe" softly a few more times and I started sobbing. I just couldn't control it. I had to cry and I cried hard.

My brain eventually kicked back on, to a degree. As soon as I could stand again, I stood but sat back at my desk. Through tears in my eyes, I told him I was fine and that I could go back to work. He demanded I take a lunch and get out of the office for a bit... He didn't realize I felt safer in the office than I did outside of it. I sat outside the office for a good 15-20 minutes, still breathing heavily and crying until my mother came to pick me up to take me to lunch. I ended up having another panic attack on my lunch break, but luckily I was with my mom and she was able to take care of me.

I returned to work but I couldn't work the rest of the day. I was tired, I was exhausted, my head hurt, I was still confused. I worked slowly and then clocked out when I couldn't work anymore.

ASD episodes are no joke. The scared and panicked feeling is like nothing I ever experienced. I had these episodes frequently. I am not sure how frequently, I just know when they were bad, they were REALLY bad. I will write about another attack I had in another entry.

Medication and Side Effects

I am currently on two types of medication: Sertraline (Zoloft) and Buspirone (BuSpar). I started both medications a day after my first appointment, so I believe it was January 21st. It's been a ride. I am supposed to stay on Setraline for long term. She suggested a minimum of 12 months. The BuSpar was supposed to be temporary, and I was to take as needed, until the Setraline took over.

BuSpar is supposed to help with anxiety and minimizing panic attacks. Setraline is supposed to help PTSD, anxiety, panic disorder and depression. Yep. That's my life right now. Crying fits, panic attacks, anxiety and PTSD. Whoopee. 

So when I first started the BuSpar, I got the worst headaches and I was constantly tired. I think I slept through the first few days on it. I was also taking it often to deal with the stress of returning to work. Sometimes I took it three times a day, which is the maximum I was allowed to take it. It seemed like it kept my calm for the most part, but honestly, I was still having way too many panic attacks while at work for my liking. I had to take breaks and lay down or cry to start feeling better while at work. 

Eventually I started getting used to the BuSpar. I still get tired if I take them too close together or more than twice a day, but over all I think it works pretty well. I take it about 30 minutes or so before throwing myself in a stressful situation and I usually don't panic until much later. 

I think that just now (March 14th 2017) that the Setraline is kicking in. I feel my crying fits are shorter and come less frequently and my panic/anxiety is lower than normal. I did recently increase my dosage. I was at first on a low dosage but I had to increase it too weeks ago because I just wasn't feeling it. Now I feel it. I feel almost normal? I mean, still anxious and loud noises still bother me, but I don't wake up to a panic attack anymore. I wake up fine. There hasn't been an opportunity for another PTSD meltdown so I guess only time will tell to see how I handle that stuff.

My mind is also starting to get clearer. I can think again! That sounds weird, I know, but I wasn't thinking clearly, I wasn't remembering things, and my panicked brain was seeing the world differently and not correctly. I will go more into detail about that in my next entry. 

So here is how I am feeling now, about two months on both medications. I feel weird. It's better, but I don't feel like myself. I understand why people think they are better without medication and that they feel almost robotic, because I can relate. It's like I don't feel anxious or scared at all times; the physical symptoms are gone, but my brain isn't all there yet. I recognize I should panic or hide or do any of my safety net things, but my body doesn't want to. When my body doesn't want to, I get the signals to my brain saying "Hey, we're alright, nothing bad is going to happen," and then the moment passes. 

I guess sometimes I want to panic though. I want to cry and feel these things. It's tempting to go off the medication. Like super tempting just because the urge to feel those things are there, but I know I can't. I know I need the medication to get better. I feel like if I don't feel miserable then those people who died, or who had loved ones die, or were injured, or cannot afford help like I can... They are suffering. They are suffering worse than I am. I don't deserve to be happy and feel normal until they can be happy and feel normal. I need to suffer to remember.

With that though, I guess I fear going off the medications too. I know I don't want to be on them forever, but I also kind of do. It makes me robotic. These little pills are controlling my actions and how I think. It's a good thing, deep down I know it is. I fear that if I go off of it, the chaos will return. The fear of leaving my house, of strangers, of constantly looking over my shoulder, the episodes returning. Most of all I fear doing something more permanent to myself if I were to stop taking it. Don't make me say what.

So all of this is going on and much more. I guess only time will tell but I am trying to stay optimistic. I am working weekly with my psychiatrist to keep me on the right track and to get me back to normal. So no need to worry about me. I am dealing with all these confusing thoughts with her. I just have a ways to go.

Self Pity: The first thing I've felt for myself

I feel ungrateful writing this.

After experiencing despondence and melancholic emotions directed at everyone else I possibly could, I finally started feeling for myself again. It's still miserable. I am still miserable. I was talking to Erich  yesterday night and realized I will never be the same again. I asked him, with tears in my eyes, "Will I ever be normal again? Will I ever get to do the things I used to love again." After a sigh, he told me something that broke my heart, "I don't think we will ever go back to who we were after the attack."

This all started because yesterday he went to see the new Marvel movie Logan. A movie we were both looking forward to. I still cannot go into many public places, a movie theater included which is devastating to me. On top of that I cannot watch any thrilling or scary movies - something I used to love to do. Video games? All of mine are shooters, survival horror, or just regular horror games. I have not been able to touch my computer because all my games are there (and my computer faces away from the door). 

This is just what has come up so far. I already know I can't do any activities that get my heart beat up as it might trigger a panic attack. So what all does this include? Where does it end? Summer will be here soon. Will I be able to ride roller-coasters again? Will I be able to enjoy or celebrate Halloween? What about certain songs? I currently cannot listen to metal, and music with a ton of loud beats/heavy on the drumming. 

I guess I thought I would eventually be back to normal. It was just a matter of time before I would go back to my morbid curiosities and my love for thrills. I always prided myself as not being scared of anything (except one minor phobia of sharks). Now look at me. I feel like a scared kid. I am afraid of the dark. I am afraid of storms. I am afraid of crowds. I am afraid of movies, games, and music. I thought all of this in the sentence that echoes in my mind, We will never go back to who we were. 

I feel so much pity for myself. And I feel selfish for giving myself pity. I should be happy that I lived. I should be thankful every day. I am not. I have been miserable every day I've been alive. I have survivor's guilt. When people say things like "At least you're alive!" or "God has a plan for you!" it makes me sick to my stomach. I don't know how I am alive and I sometimes wish I wasn't. If I could have save the life of the man next to me, I would have. It isn't fair that I am alive now and that I am able to pity myself and feel bad for myself. It isn't fair.

Hyperacusis - A side effect no one talks about

I feel like there is so little information out there from people who survive terrorist attacks or serious trauma. I found some impersonal resources but I feel like it would be better for me to hear from someone describing their experience from their point of view in their language. So that is what I am doing right now to cope with my experience, writing all the little things that I personally experience.

Hyperacusis is something I didn't even know had a name until last week. The pamphlets the FBI gave me, my doctor, and everyone I talked to... No one told me it had a name. Here is what Wikipedia  has to say about it:

Hyperacusis (also spelled hyperacousis) is a health condition characterized by an increased sensitivity to certain frequency and volume ranges of sound (a collapsed tolerance to usual environmental sound). A person with severe hyperacusis has difficulty tolerating everyday sounds, some of which may seem unpleasantly or painfully loud to that person but not to others

So basically, a very old part of your brain that focuses on animal instinct goes into hyperactive mode. It knows you were in a life or death situation and has a new prime directive that overrides everything else: Survival. It wants you to survive so now your senses are working at maximum capacity. There are many other things that this effects but I am going to focus on the Hyperacusis part.

Sound.

Sound was unbearable for weeks. I remember I could hear the ink escaping from my pen as I wrote on paper. That is how sensitive to sound I was. With sound also being a trigger for a panic attack/ASD or PTSD episodes, it was absolutely one of the worst parts I have, and to a lesser degree, still experience.

Can you imagine someone coming up behind you, stealthy and quiet, then screaming really loud in your ear? The surprise makes you jump and scream, right? But then you laugh it off as a silly prank and go on with your day. Your heart was racing for a moment but now it's back to normal. For me, it wasn't like that at all, for you see, I could hear almost every sound you probably ignore on a daily basis. Small noises like paper fluttering in the wind would sound like a hurricane. The ice maker in my fridge going off sounded like an avalanche. A door shutting sounded like a gun shot. Each would make my heart race for what seemed like a long time. Even after the triggered panic attack I would still be on edge. These are just three examples because sound was literally painful and everything was booming.

When I first got home I had at least 2 panic attacks a day and at least 1 crying fit every day. Most of these were triggered by sound. In order to get on with my life, I started wearing headphones and listening to quiet music. It gave me something to focus on and it also soothed me. It didn't work every time, though, so I had to buy earplugs and wear them all the time. That made the sound almost seem normal. Currently, a little over two months from the incident, I still struggle with not needing to wear them. I want to get used to all of these noises but sometimes it can still be intolerable.

My hearing used to be super sensitive and every sound used to be unbearable at all times. Now it's selective. Some days are better than others, some sounds are quieter than others. The sounds still make me wince and I feel the need to shake it off. Just now someone shut a door and it made my heart rate spike, but I focused on the door, and I was able to recover from it. I am sure the medication also helps me to control my anxiety, but I still have my earplug around as a safety net as well.

I don't have any universal tips or tricks to deal with it. I am sure everyone experiences these things differently. In time, I am sure my hearing will be back to normal, and my attacks will subside. Earplugs have been the way to go for me, and listening to soft music has helped as well.

It's weird. I know the Hyperacusis is meant to help me survive, but we are such evolved creatures that it's actually doing the opposite. I just wish more people talked about it so I knew if there was more I could do to lessen it. Hopefully in time, it will go, but until then the sounds of the ticking clock counting down to that day is deafening.

The Ghost

I am being haunted. I have a ghost who hangs over my left shoulder. He is a long black figure with big eyes and jagged teeth. He gnaws away at my head and threatens me daily. Some times he does nothing except exists over my shoulder. Other times he creeps around in dark corners and shadows and lurks in the unknown. The one thing he does often - the one thing I hate most - he holds a gun to my head. He will aim that gun all day if he has to and if someone slams a door or drops something BAM, the gun goes off and I am dead for half a second.

I've named him: The Shooter.

On January 6th, 2017 I was traveling on vacation. I was to go on a cruise that was a Christmas/Anniversary present from my Father-in-law. It was free, we only had to pay for the flight. I was so excited. We nearly missed our connecting flight from Atlanta to Fort Lauderdale but we ran fast and made it with no time to spare. Our bag, unfortunately, did not make the flight in time and we had to wait down in the baggage claim for it to arrive. During this time, a traveler named Estebon Santiago decided to carry out an attack that the FBI officially classified as a terrorist attack. Many people were injured, 5 people died. 1 person died right next to me. I will never forget.

I will not go into more detail than that in this entry. This entry is not about the event itself, but rather the haunting I am experiencing from my ghost: PTSD. I was officially diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder (ASD) on January 20th. It's been about two months since that diagnoses - it's officially PTSD.

The first two weeks following the incident, the ghost had a body. He would follow me, stalk me, come up behind me and put me back on the floor of the airport. I couldn't stop him. He was strong, he was physical (it seemed so in my head) and he never stopped trying to get me. He would stick his gun to my head and I could literally feel the heat and pressure from it. He would press it harder and harder until BAM it went off and I was dead again.

After he shot the gun, he would leave me temporarily to mourn - and mourn I did. I have never felt such a mourning in my life. The pain in my chest, the tears that would pour, the thoughts that wouldn't leave me be. I would mourn for hours and then lock myself up some place I felt safe... Not many places did feel safe.

After a while my ghost decided he needed to step it up a notch. He decided to try possession. He would sneak in the shadows and make an alarming noise; that would put my body in a state of shock. He used my shock to sneak into my mind and make me travel through time. Where I was, what I was doing, none of it was real. It was all a trick and I am at the airport about to die. I would try to see my house, but I would see the airport carpet and The Shooter's shoes stalking me. I would hear the shots, clear as day. I knew I was still there; that my life after the airport was a coping mechanism. I was about to die. The bullet was entering my brain.

These moments last an hour, minimum.

After receiving help and trying to deal with it, I was determined to get better. I had to get better. I wanted my life back! I had to find ways to exorcise this ghost from my life. I would try going to the grocery store and he would whisper in my ears: Any minute I will walk in as a stranger and kill everyone in this store. You better find the exits or a good hiding spot or you will die. Then he clutches my lungs and squeezes the breath out of them. He takes his fine teeth and starts gnawing at my heart. I lose control and have a panic attack.

These moments last 20 minutes, minimum.

I started medication immediately after my diagnosis. It was increased last week for now my ASD is now PTSD and my ghost, again, has decided to try something new to keep me under his control.

There was a storm last week. I loved storms. The thunder, the rain, the lightening. It's always so exciting, or rather it was. The ghost seized this opportunity to try and really get to me. He went outside and grew into the storm. As the thunder rolled closer to me, his shots did too. His shots seemed more powerful and I was paralyzed in a hysterical fear. I wasn't in the airport or in the past or in a store. I was in my bed and I was going to die. The Shooter was the Thunder and the Thunder was going to kill me. I no longer had thoughts at the time. No thoughts could enter or exit my brain, just pure panic and fear. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breath.

This moment lasted two hours.

The moments are getting fewer but they are still there. I have at least one crying fit a day. There may have been 1 or 2 days where I didn't cry, but that's it. I cry every day at least once a day. I can't stop. My heart hurts and I am still terrified.

As I get up in the morning, the ghost latches on me. I brush my teeth and stare my reflection down. Like a vampire, he doesn't have a reflection, but I can feel him sucking the life out of me. He follows me around all day. He knows the medication works to keep me calm, so he tries to fight against it. I feel defeated, and then take another pill.

This ghost is something I will live with. Probably forever. I have accepted this. It's only been 2 months but I know, I feel, he will always be there. Maybe one day he will not have any control over me. Maybe he will just be an observer, reminding me of how easily life can be snatched away. Until then, I just have to find a way to keep him at bay and to live through his attacks, one moment at a time.

My day, from beginning to end, on January 6th

I remember the whole day feeling ominous.

My mother-in-law was supposed to drive us to the airport that morning and arrived at our house an hour earlier than expected. Her clocks were wrong at the house and there was heavy snowfall that morning. Both contributed to her feeling worried about us and getting to our house early. I remember not wanting to leave bed and sluggishly pulling myself up, wishing there was coffee in the house and hoping to stop for a coffee on the way to the airport that morning. Instead we loaded up the car and headed straight to the airport, and made it to our terminal with plenty of time to spare. Erich's phone was already dead and he was trying to charge it while reading his book "The Disaster Artist." I was busy texting pictures and videos to my mom, sister, and brother-in-law - the ones taking care of my house and animals while I was away. I clearly remember wanting to document our whole trip until we got to the boat. That thought kept popping up at ever significant stop we made.

As we enter the plane, we place our baggage in the over head compartment. The emblem of my bag fell off as we stuffed the case in the compartment. We made the joke"If that's the worse thing to happen to us today, then we are doing well.

The plane took off late. I've always hated the take off and landing of plans. I squeeze Erich's hand and hold on tight every time. This day was no different. The plane arrived late. We had to run through the Atlanta airport, to catch our other flight to Ft Lauderdale. We had to gate check our two bags we had with us and the plane took off within minutes of us taking our seats.

As we ascended above the clouds I had the thought I wonder if this is what dying feels like. Immediately followed by a poor "Final Destination" joke, after which I pull out my new book Trigger Warning, by Neil Gaiman and start reading. I feel like all the signs were there but I didn't listen to them. I wonder if anyone else experienced anything similar that day or in any moments leading to disaster.

We arrive at the airport in Fort Lauderdale. I ask Erich if he wants to grab lunch now or wait on his family to arrive. He suggested going down to the baggage claim immediately. As we pass up the restaurants and head to the baggage claim, signs said WARNING: NO REENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT (or something similar). I point it out to Erich to make sure he was sure. He was. We went to the baggage claim.

We pass a Starbucks down by Claim 1. I make a note of it in my mind, still wanting some delicious coffee I've been craving since we left our house. Our gate-checked bags arrived in Claim 3 but we were missing the bag we checked in Louisville. We found out it didn't make the plane (as we barely made it ourselves) and it would be there on the next flight. We just had to sit tight and wait. We had plenty of time to wait, as Erich's family was about an hour and a half behind us on their journey to Ft. Lauderdale as well.

We sat in the chairs closest to the conveyor belt. I snapchat and send pictures to my friends, letting them know our bag was lost Woe is us... I put down my phone, look Erich in his eyes and tell him "We should have an actual conversation. Put our phones down, look at each other, and talk!" He makes a funny face and I say "Never mind. I don't know if I can look at your face." I suggested maybe going over to the Starbucks. But something came over me. I no longer wanted a coffee. He got up and insisted we get one but I immediately changed my mind and asked him to sit with me and we will wait on the coffee.

Now we've arrived at the part that I don't want to write. This is the part where I start to get overly emotional. I am forcing myself to write it because I need to. I only started writing to tell this part of the story. Here we go.

I hear 3 gun shots. It wasn't a "Bang" as much as a loud "POP" sound. People started to run and get down on the ground. During the first 3 POP noises, I found myself thinking "THis is just a joke. Someone is playing around" and before I finish that thought Erich grabs me tight around my arm and pulls me to the right and forces me down on the ground. I tilt my head up to see him. Gun in hand, Smoke swirling around him. Eyes are dark and unfocused I see him aim and I feel Erich, again, push my head down and he covers me as best as he can. Two more shots where I saw him aim POP POP.

My brain is struggling to make sense of it all. Maybe it was a disagreement. Two people fought and one shot. It's over now." But everyone stayed on the ground and shots traveled the room. I see his shoes come our way and I start to panic. I couldn't control my breathing. There was another man, down on the ground to the right and in front of us. He started calling out descriptions of the man and telling us what to do, as well as trying to talk the man down from shooting anyone else. He would shout stuff like "Everyone stay down, stay down!" "He's wearing a blue shirt, blue shirt." He heard my breathing and told us "it will all be okay." I was scared that his yelling was going to attract the shooter our way but I was so glad that someone was telling me what to do. The shooters shoes disappeared. "He's leaving everyone" the man to our right shouted."

I started feeling - I can't say what I was feeling but I know it was pure terror when the man to our right started yelling "He's coming back! STAY DOWN!"

I knew I was going to die. This was it. I knew it. It was not a theory but a fact that I was going to die here and now. The shots came faster this time. I looked as he shot someone on the ground POP. The shots got closer and closer to us. I can never forget the sound the gun made. POP. Over and over again. Closer and Closer. I was breathing so loud and erratically now. I felt Erich squeeze me tighter, still shielding me from whatever may come my way. I see his shoes again. POP. The gun went off so close to me... Right next to me. This is it. This is it. I am dead. I know it. I am dead. This is real and I am dead. I open my eyes. I am not even sure when I closed them or if I closed them. I see his shoes leaving our area. That must have been his last shot I hoped. I don't remember much that happened after that. Just eventually a group of officers running past us. What took them so long? We were on the ground forever! Why weren't they shooting him?!

Everyone started getting up slowly. I sat up. I look over to the guy next to me on my left. The guy right next to me. I could touch him. I wanted to touch him. He is in front of our bags, right where we were sitting. I want to shake him and tell him it's over and he can get up now... but I knew. Before I realized it, I knew.

I am hysterical now. Erich is trying to get me to focus on him, but my eyes keep going to the man on the ground. I focus on his shoes. I cannot see anything but his shoes. I hear Erich and I know his hands are on me and I know I am crying but I can't feel him. I cannot see him. All I can see is the man and his shoes. Brown Shoes. They didn't even seem that comfortable; just something to slide off and on easily for TSA checks. A women gets up. She notices the man and crawls over to him. She sees her husband. That's what she says in a calm manner, That's my husband, as she crawls closer to him... I think she starts to realize it now. I have ope, false hope that maybe he's just scared to get up. But then she starts to wail "THAT'S MY HUSBAND! OH GOD WHY?!" She starts to cry. I can't feel or think. I want to reach out to her to comfort her but I can't move. I am frozen. I see her grabbing him and I see his shoes and I am begging with him to move his feet and get up. I know. She knows. She's crying. Someone else comforts her. Where are the police? What just happened? Why is no one helping us? Why can I not feel Erich touching me? Why can I only see this guy's shoes now knowing they will never move. I see the blood now. I see the panic. I see Erich. I am trying to focus on him. How long has he been talking to me? What happened??

It feels like hours before paramedics arrive. I signal them to the lady next to me but they are too busy with other bodies. One in front of the Starbucks. One in baggage claim 2, the one I saw him aim and fire at. I saw his execution. They don't come for the man in the brown shoes until later.

We are directed to move. Fresh gun powder is covering all of our things. Our bags, our jackets, our phones. They were all left in our chairs, where we were sitting, where the man was laying in front of. Did he notice our emblem missing from our bag as he waiting on the ground? What were his last thoughts? His body is still there as I grab my phone - knowing I have to contact my family. So much gun powder is covering it. I bury myself into Erich's chest as he hugs me close and we move where we are directed to the other side of baggage claim, to claim 1. There are exit doors that face the parking garage in front of us, as well as that Starbucks. I don't see the paramedics grab the man in brown. I am scared to watch, knowing it will confirm without a doubt what happened and crush the hope I was holding on to.

We think it's over now. I still cannot feel anything. I think I am dead. It's a thought that doesn't leave my head. It's weird how your brain plays tricks on you. I really thought I was going to die so my mind was convinced I did.

Less than an hour later, the police that are in the are room yell to lock all the doors and orders everyone to get back down on the ground. I panic again. I feel like this is a much bigger attack. That I am going to be a statistic or a number in a news headline. The officers order everyone to stay down. They then explain that there may be a second shooter and someone in the room could be an accomplice. I cried as they spent the next hour searching is from down on the ground. I was still having trouble breathing and didn't have my inhaler on me.

Eventually they searched everyone, but we had to turn in our belongings and bags to the FBI who arrived. We were still stuck at the crime scene with no word if they caught the second shooter or not. Bathroom breaks were supervised and terrifying. You never knew if there was a bomb or if someone else was going to shoot up the place again. I couldn't stop myself from shaking. The FBI called for people who had photo/video or any kind of evidence on them to come forward. Erich went forward as our bags had evidence on them. I was left alone for at least an hour I believe. Time and events started getting fuzzy by this point.

A young man noticed I was having trouble breathing and got me a paper bag from Starbucks to help control it better. There was a family next to me - Father, mother, son. The mother had blood on her shirt from trying to help a victim. She was taken away to the FBI as the blood was evidence. I tried to text my mom with updates. I still couldn't talk or breath normally at this point. Finally Erich comes back with an FBI agent named Ryan. I give him details of what I saw and was surprised at how much detail I remembered at that moment. Then he left and we were confused again with no real update.

I don't know how much time passed at this point. We arrived at the airport around 11:30 AM and I believe it was almost 4 or 5 PM now. That's when the doors that were supposed to be locked flung open. People, high school kids I think, started running in with no explanation. I immediately think "Oh god. This is it. This is truly it.." again. and Erich and I start running too. The officers yelled for everyone to get down and shouted at the runners to STOP! I had no idea what was happening and began to hyperventilate. It was just a bunch of scared kids stuck out on the Tarmac and forced their way in. They were instructed to leave and go back outside. They still thought the second shooter was outside. The left and the doors were locked behind them. We were then moved upstairs to another part of the airport.

Upstairs is where we spent the remainder of the night. They had to interview every person who was down at the baggage claim. EMT's were there and I was able to get a breathing treatment that made me feel almost normal again. We took turns at a wall outlet charging our phones, so we all could contact our loved ones. People were exchanging stories about what happened and no one was giving us real answers about what was going on. They had found a suspicious package at this time and had a controlled detonation. I still, to this day, do not know if it was a bomb or some poor saps luggage that was destroyed. As the FBI sends me updates on the case, this is one mystery I would love to have solved. We were in the room until 9:00 PM. I still couldn't feel anything.

The FBI releases us. We were able to claim the bags they took from us with evidence on them before we left. But our other bag we were waiting on... who knows. We hopped on a bus after having several news camera shoved in our face and was taken to Port 1, where the area was secure and waiting for us.

We waited at the port for an hour or so. I don't remember the time. It was probably around 10 or 10:30 PM before we were picked up by Erich's family. Traffic was a mess, there were a ton of people at the airport still. His family's flight was re-routed to Miami and they had to drive up to pick us up. His family didn't ask questions. We didn't talk. We made it to the hotel where a drunk lady saw we just came from the airport and was telling us about a guy who got shot there, but his laptop saved him. She laughed. I cried. The rest of the night was surreal. Most of our stuff was lost and everyone was encouraging us to go on the cruise. I wanted to go home. I called my mom. She was passed out asleep. I called my sister who answered. I don't know what we chatted about. I called a few other people... I don't remember talking to them.

Here it is January 31st [when I original wrote this] and I still have to look over my shoulder. I dream almost every night that I am dying, that the world is coming to an end, or that I am being shot in the head. Loud noises trigger me into a panic attack. I cry thinking about anything concerning it. I flash back and feel like I am still being hunted and that reality is a dream. Two types of medication and a weekly psychiatrist appointment later... I feel like I can start trying to move past this. Move past the guilt. Why am I alive but the man in the brown shoes, who was where I was sitting, in front of my bags... Why isn't he? His name was Terry Andres. His wife was Ann Andres. They were going on a cruise I believe to celebrate their wedding anniversary or his birthday. He was kind and loved.

EDIT: Warning, graphic images. So here is an uncensored video someone took with their phone moments after the attack. Seriously, GRAPHIC. Do not watch. I debated putting this on here or not. I decided to for one reason only. As part of my documentation of the events of the day. Proof that it really happened. You can see Erich in his red shirt in the back at the beginning until about second 5.. He is trying to comfort me. The sound you hear is a high pitched alarm. It something the airport sounded as soon as the police came running through our area. It reminded me of something you would hear in a movie where a gun goes off near someone's ear. The high pitched noise they add to the background... It had to be modeled off this noise. Near the end of the video, you see victims, uncensored. I am begging you not to watch it if you cannot stomach it. But it happened. This is proof that it happened. I am right there in the back. You can see Anne to the right side of the video in the first 6 seconds. She is wearing white, on the floor, covering her husband. I remember now seeing Terry on the floor and scooting away from him. That's when Erich tries to comfort me. Click here for the video.