Flying...

My co-worker is going to California. Brand new recruit. She started the same day as me! They were talking about flights, hotels, and car rental. She gets to go to our new campus in sunny California.

They didn't even ask me.
They know better than to ask me.
I wouldn't be able to go if they asked me.

But the jealousy is there.

...I wish I could go too.

Fight, Flight, or Hide

Today I took a long exploratory walk around my new office building. 

I looked at every nook and cranny. Opened all the unlocked doors and noted the locked ones. Throughout my survey of the space, I noticed that there are not many hiding places. Many of the classrooms are wide open spaces with tables and chairs; no place to hide behind or under. There was only one class room that had potential for escape, and it had two entrances/exits to it. Still, wouldn't count on it in a pinch. 

The Instructor office some hiding potential, only because I told myself to really check everywhere in there, and forgot to check a few places. I was seriously looking for hiding spots and, even noting a few to check on, I still didn't bother to check in those spots. I believe the layout of that space is probably good enough to look through quickly, but no reason to thorough check hiding spots unless there is a reason to.

Some class rooms have windows, but nothing in the rooms to really break the window. The chairs seem flimsy and there was nothing very heavy to throw at the glass. Also, we are about 2 or 3 stories high, and nothing but concrete below. Nothing to throw out to cushion the fall. Windows for escape would definitely need muscle and you would have to execute the landing perfectly. 

There are several ways out of the space, but only two lead out of the building completely. One is an emergency exit near the back of the building, one is near my office, down a hall to the back entrance to our space. These are the most likely ways to exit. There is also an exit in the back that leads to a utility room and up to the roof. That might be a great way to go if all else fails, but we would still be stuck on the roof. The other exit is through the front of the office, to the lobby of the building. That is risky as there is a lot of open space and large glass windows, but it is an exit.

Conclusion:

If anything happens, I should take an exit nearest to me. I shouldn't risk hiding, as I would be found instantly. If the exits are blocked, I should try a window escape and hope for the best. It's survivable, but I might not get very far based on the height and landing on concrete. The last thing I should do is hide, and if I have no choice but to hide, I should hope that I can make my way to the instructor's office, or just get under a desk and hope for the best.

I honestly want to believe I would be able to fight my way out, but armed with only pepper spray, it seems unlikely. So I have to hope that maybe one of the many gun enthusiast in my office feel better about taking on a situation like that. 

This is how my break today was spent.

New job anxiety and a healthy environment!

This is what I posted to Facebook on July 7th:

During lunch I asked my immediate supervisor if I could have a short chat with her. She sat me down with her supervisor/my head supervisor as well (which is fine because they all acted concerned and was already sympathetic to what I was about to disclose).
I told them the condensed version of things. It was hard. I teared up, but I got through it. They were completely understanding. Not only that, but my supervisor also has experience with anxiety and panic attacks! So she told me to let her know if I needed anything at all.

Later on today, she came walking into my office area and startled me and apologized. I said it's okay, it wasn't a big deal and she insisted that she would be more aware of things! She also volunteered for us to do breathing exercises and meditations together if I got too anxious! I was working an intense spot at an orientation tomorrow, and she moved me to a position that would have less traffic and would feel safer (which I didn't ask for, but she insisted and I feel very relieved)!
So overall it went very well. My new office knows about my PTSD and panic disorder and everyone is being accommodating and understanding. 

Let me just say, since I've been working at my job EVERYONE has been loving and understanding. I have let my other secrets trickle out. "I am a vegetarian." My work has been super accommodating about that as well! "I am mixed race!" And they gush about how much they love my hair! Since I've been working here my anxiety has been way down! Nothing really triggers me at work. Here are the few things I have noticed about my work location:

1) Most of the rooms only have one exit. I keep going over emergency/escape plans in my head (fight, flight, or hide) and my brain cannot seem to feel really safe in many of these rooms. My office is also in the very back of the building. I literally either have to hide under my desk or break out through a window (a few stories high) and hope that the fall will be better than the enemy... Yeah, my brain is still trying to find a better solution but cannot.

2) I get scared out of my mind when someone sneaks up behind me, but I guess because they are new people to me, I try to contain the crazy as much as I can. So I jump in my skin and feel my heart rate pulse (and turn red!!) but I try my best not to scream at them. So... crazy is officially containable.

3) I've only cried once since I got to my new office (since July 15th) from something triggering. I've only had one mild panic attack (at work) since being here as well! Outside of work is still a different story...

I honestly believe this job is good for me. Slight pay and benefits cut, but the environment is healthy for me. If I can learn to control my symptoms, then I can survive almost any situation. This is a good training wheels for me to get over some of my anxiety. I just have to learn to feel safe in some of these no real exit rooms!!

Fireworks and PTSD

I went to bed at 10, which is a bit early for me. Woke up at 12 literally thinking there was a shooting on our street. Loud screams and several bangs.

I flipped out. I was convinced it was a shooting. The shrieks and shrills were coming from kids and adults before and after each bang.

I looked out the window and saw people with their flashlights, giggling, about to light the next firework.

I put on my headphones and cry myself back to sleep.

It's official. I left a major part of my soul at that airport. I had hope I would eventually be whole again. But tonight reassured me that I will never have that piece of myself again.

All my life I've loved film. I love going to the movies. I love making movies.

I no longer love it. Being in the theater is so painful. The one thing that made me unique; that made me really stand out... It's gone forever.

I don't ever want to go into a movie theater again

Prolonged exposure at SDF

Thursday, June 29th, 2017. Almost 6 months since the incident. I was back at the airport.

It was on our calendar for a full week. I wasn't sure if this was something I was ready to do or not, but I didn't feel scared or nervous waiting for the day to come. It was an eerie calm. I felt ready to tackle it and see how far I could push myself.

I think I need people to tell me to stop pushing myself too far too fast.

I grabbed Erich from work at 4PM. We were supposed to meet at SDF at 4:30. Naturally, on the drive, we started talking about if either of us were nervous, and our feelings about the whole thing. He started describing some things: "I am glad the baggage claim doesn't have carpet. I remember the carpet vividly and hope to never see it again!"

That's when I remembered. Vividly. That's when it all tried to come back to me, and I tried to stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop the intense pain in my chest and the blurriness of the road in front of me. Where did my breath go?

I proceeded to have one of the most intense and powerful panic attacks I've had in months. Luckily we made it to the parking lot in time for it.

Our FBI Victim's Specialist meet us there in the parking lot. She was right on time. I composed myself and we went in. I did warn her of the earlier panic. She is very professional and handled it perfectly. I was able to stop shaking within 10 minutes of our initial meeting. We went inside. Unfortunately, from the parking garage to the inside of the airport, you go up the stairs from underground. Up the stairs, to the baggage claim... Yeah, that happened. We immediately continued on up to the main lobby of the airport and was only in that area briefly. My heart started to pound but nothing more than I could handle. We were there, literally, only seconds.

So we walked around the main lobby. We found the meditation room; which I had no idea existed. We sat there. We calmed ourselves. We felt good. I checked in with Erich. He was ready to go. The VS checked with both of us, we were ready- to explore other parts of the airport!

We walked to the ticketing area. Sat there by the stairs leading down to baggage claim. I eyed everyone who walked by. I know that sounds rude but I did. I had to look at their bags, look at their pockets, look at their faces to reassure myself that nothing was off about that person. A few kids ran by, and the announcements made us jump, but our anxiety levels were around a 3/4 the entire time.

We walked to the Comfy Cow - a local ice cream chain that happens to be in the airport - and decided to distract ourselves with a cool treat. That brought us back down to a 1. We then made our way down the stairs to the Tourist Kiosk, knowing that the claim area was feet from us. We looked at our shoes. No carpet. Believe it or not, knowing I didn't have to see carpet there was a huge relief. I tricked myself into believing I could do it. 

With the encouragement of each other and our VS, we inched into the area. A loud bag slammed behind us and we inched a little faster, then found a good pace. My feet looked fine on the ground. I could see a loose thread hanging off my clothing. But where were Erich's feet? I looked over. I saw the chairs next to the baggage carousals. Our VS was asking what my level was. My vision blurred again. My voice left me. Was I a 5? Was I a 9? I tried to stutter out the words. She asked 3 times. "Fi-five? M-m-maybe 6?" I looked up to Erich, and then to the carousals. 10. I was at a 10.

I lost it.

It all came back. The gun. The shooter. The man in the brown shoes. The red on the carpet. The feeling I was going to die. 

We were in the area for 3 minutes, but who knows how long it really was. When you are faced with these things, time has no relevance or meaning. You are in the past, present, and future all at the same time. I collapsed outside near the passenger pickup lane. My body was shaking. I couldn't breathe. I have no idea what my thoughts were. I was dying. All over again. 

I was down, on the ground, not knowing what would come next, and not knowing how long it had been. Eventually I started gaining more control. Our VS and Erich had been talking to me. Reminding me that I was safe. I started focusing on their voices and I came back.

Unfortunately, the way back to the garage was the way we came. I knew I couldn't step foot in the airport again. Not that day. A security officer guided us around to a street area (which had NO WALKING signs all around). She gave us permission, plus being with the FBI helped too, so we were able to get by without stepping back inside.

We got home. My mom came over to fix my hair up for the first day at my new job (That Friday)! Then the fireworks started. From Thursday until... I believe they are still going on tonight, I'm sure. Cue panic attacks for the following nights. How I made it through the first day of work, I have no idea.

My brain makes everyone around me someone to fear

Last night my husband got frustrated at the dog.

He crawled into bed and was mad that the dog wouldn't move or something like that.

I was already laying down. Hearing his frustration triggered something in me. I was now afraid of him.

The fear isn't rational. I know it isn't rational. I kept telling myself it is not rational. But my brain kept playing possibilities in my head. He is going to kill you. He has a gun and since your back is turned, he will shoot you without you knowing. Maybe he is going to start hitting you or choking you. I got so uncomfortable by the thoughts, without saying a word, I went to the couch with a cover and pillow.

He came out to get me. I was already silently crying, as soon as I saw his silhouette. I feared him being near me. What happened next?

He gently told me to come back to bed.

He tucked me in and kissed me.

He offered to sleep on the couch and let me stay in the bed alone.

He apologized for being upset over the dog.

None of those actions scream violence. None of those actions say I should be afraid of him. But my brain couldn't stop picturing him doing unspeakable things to me. I tried to mentally fight it. I made him stay in bed with me, but the fear was still there. I didn't feel safe. My brain was going over every possibly scenario of him snapping and taking it out on me. 

I got up once more. To shut the door to our bedroom. I tried to tell myself that maybe I was just nervous someone would enter our room and that's what I was really afraid of. We never sleep with the bedroom door closed, until I have moments like this. Then the door needs to be shut. It offers me just a small amount of peace to get me to sleep. It worked. I eventually slept.

My husband is not violent. He is gentle. He is sweet. He loves me and cares about me in ways I've never experienced. He literally was ready to take a bullet for me. No one cares about me more than he does. So why is this fear here? Why does this trauma effect my perception of the one person who would never hurt me? 

I hate my brain.

Stay on your medicine

I am sorry to report... Although I've been doing well with my main medication, I've unfortunately I've been slacking with my Prazosin. Prazosin helped me sleep through the night by taking away my nightmares or by not allowing me to really remember them. I know it sounds too good to be true but it worked.

I've been off the pill for maybe a week. Shame on me. The nightmares have gradually come back and it climaxed today. Slowly my dreams started getting worse - something bad, but not horrible, would happen. Today I woke up from an attack dream. Stuck in a shooting situation waiting to be shot.

I will start taking my medicine, all of them, again today.

I am disappointed in myself but I think I'm more disappointed that my nightmares will never stop being about the shooting. It will always return to that. I will never escape my ghost.

Prolonged Exposure

Lately I've been practicing Prolonged Exposure Therapy. It's exactly what it sounds like: Exposing yourself to re-experience the traumatic event over and over until it's effect gets lesser and lesser. It's what veterans practice to cope with their PTSD and my psychiatrist believes it will help me.

It started with me writing about it. After I wrote about it, it took me weeks, maybe even a full month, before I could go back and read what I wrote. I then wrote about it again in more detail. I still have trouble reading it, but reading it helps me remember, and to never forget. 

Then I had to read it aloud. It caused a major emotional reaction from me reading it to my psychiatrist. It then caused me a very stressful, emotional week after reading it aloud. Then slowly I started talking about it. Answering questions people had, telling my friends in person or via Skype about my experience. Just slowly exposing myself, and accepting, what had happened. 

It worked for a bit, but I was still suffering from the most traumatic experience of the whole ordeal. The hardest part for me to write about, to think about, to say aloud... was the man next to me who died. Who took the last bullet, which was the only reason I am still here typing. Even now, I've slowed my typing and keep pausing after every word because that's the most traumatic experience for me. Not that my life was in danger, which was traumatic, but more traumatizing than that was how I feel and experience what happened to the man next to me. I have to move on or I will not make it through this entry.

After doing those assignments, we started the visualization process. Thinking about the airport and going into the baggage claim area. Thinking about the sounds, what I might see, what it might smell. Just immersing myself, mentally, into the event. And then what it would be like knowing that was an isolated incident: an ordinary average baggage claim area.

Now I am on the third step: Going to the airport. I've recently started my drive-by sessions. Eventually, I will have to park there and sit at the airport. Maybe stand outside or around it. Maybe go into a different part of the airport... But the goal is to make it to the baggage claim area. And do it again. And again. Until I can do it without it triggering me into a panic. Into a crying fit. Into a flashback... Until I can stand there and feel mostly normal.

Yesterday was my second attempt at a drive by. My first attempt, I was alone, went on my lunch break, and drove past the arrival area once and the departure area one. It took less than 10 minutes to do so. It made me slightly panicked (about a 3/10 on the anxiety scale). Yesterday, however, a friend drove me. And it was worse!!

This is my experience from yesterday:

My friend picked me up and we took off to the airport together. I felt my anxiety rise to about a 3/10 again on the anxiety scale, so the first time around I was about what I expected. She was good at distracting me and engaging me in conversations about ANYTHING else. But then we went around again... and my chest began to tighten. I saw so many people, vulnerable people, just standing there with their bags. The baggage claim area right in the window, the carousel bring bags around. My anxiety level raised to about a 4 or 5. 

I thought that was it. We could leave now. I wanted to leave so badly. But then we I saw the sign directing us back to arriving flights. I started clutching my chest. The pain was extreme. I started to tear up, I started to breathe more heavily. I wasn't in control of the car. I couldn't stop from going to that area again. I had no control. I felt trapped in a never ending loop. That we were going to keep going back over and over again, and then I would wake up and realize I am still on the floor at the airport. It was nerve wrecking.

What we did was almost a blur for me now. I know we also drove past departing flights, but I just can't remember if we alternated or what we did. I just know I had the biggest effect going to the arrival flights area.

Eventually, she dropped me back off at my car. I felt okay. She gave me a big long hug. I started to drive home, trying to make myself see my accomplishment for the day. I saw the carousal. I saw the bags. I remembered the event. I cried on the drive home. I cried at home. Erich held me until it was over.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month

Credit for pictures goes to Shawn Coss and you can buy from this series at Any Means Necessary.

So I am going to do this differently. I discovered this series recently and related to so many of the pictures. So I am going to showcase a few of the pictures and tell you how they relate to my mental health.

This is one that I didn't go into much detail about, yet. But for a while - at the airport - I truly believed I was dead. I thought that I was dead and I was merely a ghost. It's a weird feeling, thinking you've actually were the one shot. That there was no way to survive that mess alive. But somehow I did. 

When I first got home, I didn't leave the house for almost two weeks. The only time I left was for my Psychiatrist appointments. Even after that two weeks I hated going outside, or to places/stores/restaurants/back yard or anywhere outside the comfort of my home.

EVERYTHING Made me anxious. Noises especially. I was almost immobilized by my anxiety. I just kept thinking that at any moment, when I let my guard down, that would be the moment I would die. The anxiety of death, of something bad happening to me or Erich, or of leaving the house and being out in public was powerful.

With anxiety, I was also terrified to be around other people. Socializing or being out in public made my anxiety spike. The only person I was comfortable with was my Husband. Eventually other people coming around to take care of me, helped ease this anxiety. With baby steps, I am now able to be out in public spaces.

When having a dissociate episode, Acute Stress or Post-Traumatic, I felt like a stranger in my own body. I felt like everything around me was fake and that I couldn't see the true reality in front of me. I still don't know if I have fully explained this feeling, although I've written about it several times. It's unreal, thinking you are not real.

Ah... Insomnia. Something I've been battling with off and on these last few months. Eyes wide, scared of the darkness, scared of the nightmares, wanting nothing but rest... If you read my previous post you know it was something I was suffering from to the point of being a danger on the road. It's miserable.

 This one is pretty self explanatory. When I get anxious, I start to panic. Then I have panic attacks. I am averaging between 1-3 panic attacks a day. The BusPar helps keep them at bay, but sometimes an attack can be triggered by nothing at all.

Everyone, meet my ghost. This is the image I relate to the most. Feeling chained to him. Have him being in control over me. The emptiness I feel inside. How it's bigger than me. Monstrous. This is the epitome of how I feel living with PTSD.

Last... Depression. This is how I've been feeling lately. This is how I feel now. This is the drowning feeling I've been talking about...

No official diagnosis for many of these things. I know I am depressed, have panic disorder and anxiety, and PTSD, but the other things - like Cotard Delusion and agoraphobia didn't last, and I guess that's also why I don't talk about them as much as my present diagnosis. But I understand how it felt living with those temporarily. I feel like a nutcase sometimes. Like I truly don't know what's in my head - which illness is controlling my thoughts. All I can do is try to keep pushing forward. I am going to keep trying as long as I can.

I encourage you all, to look through his full set of pictures on his Facebook page. This was an inktober challenge, so there are 31 mental illnesses that he drew and showcased.

Pills. Pills. Pills.

This entry is all about pills. I am on 3 different types of pills: Sertraline, Prazosin, BusPirone. I take the BusPirone up to 3 times a day. Some times less. I take everything else once a day, Sertraline in the morning and Prazosin at night.

Here is a breakdown on what each pill does for me. (Although I have posted something similar before)

Sertraline, aka Zoloft, is for PTSD symptoms including reexperiencing (intrusive thoughts, nightmares, flashbacks, images, or memories); emotional numbing and avoidance (flattened affect or detachment, loss of interest and motivation, and avoidance of any activity, place, person, or topic associated with the trauma); and increased arousal (startle reactions, poor concentration, irritability and jumpiness, and insomnia or hypervigilance). So... it's helping a little I suppose. I am less on edge, my flashbacks are nearly gone, It's not a miracle drug though so I have to take these other pills to help keep me balanced. I have posted before about what it's like to miss this pill. It's something I don't want to reexperience. This is my most important pill!

The BusPirone helps me stay calm. It stops my panic attacks, as much as it can. It makes me stay levelheaded when a loud noise triggers me. It's almost instantaneous. If I take it before a stressful event, at least 30 minutes before, I should be fine. No panic attacks, no crying, just me being calm cool and collective. 

Prazosin is the new one. It was supposed to help me sleep better, by taking away my nightmares. I think I can officially say that the nightmares are just about gone. I cannot remember the last time I had a dream about a shooting. It has to have been at least a week since a shooting nightmare. Maybe a little less than a week from a regular nightmare. So it took about a month to see any benefit from this one. I am not sure if that's average or not.

Video Jessica pretty much says it all. I have to take all of these pills to have the illusion of being normal, when my thoughts are anything but normal. When my instincts tell me to do something completely different like scream or run away or quit my job... It keeps me grounded. These medications are my new normal. This life is my new normal. That incident that happened in January will forever be apart of me. I just have to accept that pills will also be apart of me until I am ready to live life without them.

Now that you have my take on it things, here is a video by The Mighty about Medication for Mental illness.

That small line

I've been sitting on this thought for almost a week. I haven't really been able to put into words all that is going on in my head lately. I've been pulled towards stories of mental illness. It's a new magnetism I have picked up. I seek out stories of disaster, heartbreak, and tragedy at the cause of untreated mental illness. As a sufferer from mental illness myself, I wonder what makes me different than the people I read about?

This weekend I picked up A Mother's Reckoning. I mentioned doing so in my last entry. What made me actually do it is all profits go to mental health charities, including Mental Health America (MHA), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), American Association of Suicidology (AAS) and Brain & Behavior Research Foundation. I have to admit, I am not very far into the book. I will definitely dive into it soon, but I after making the purchase I've been questioning my own brain health and what keeps me from crossing the same line others have crossed; the line that stops me from becoming one of these tragedies.

I imagine myself sitting at the edge of the line. I am there alone on my side, but look out and see so many others on the opposite side: Columbine Shooters, Virginia Tech Shooter, DC Snipers, Sandy Hook shooter, The Facebook Killer, Aurora Theater Shooter... It's massive on the other side of the line. The person staring directly at me is, of course, my personal demon, The Fort Lauderdale Airport shooter. They have all been accused of mental illness and shooting their victims, or participating in a mass shooting. Most of them went into it knowing they would kill themselves after. Shootings, suicide, and mental illness. It's been a slight obsession with me lately. I can't help it, it's apart of my magnetic pull.

I've read their stories many times trying to understand them. Trying to figure out why each and every one of them stepped over the line. Why are they on the other side, and I am over here? I have been wondering if it is inevitable that I will end up on the other side. Not that I would ever kill anyone else. Let me say that again: I will never kill. Not an animal, not a human, not even annoying flies buzzing around my head. It's why I chose to go vegetarian; it's why I am a humanitarian. But I have to admit that the thought of killing myself has been coming up often. But why?

I think it's just apart of my journey. Just a phase where I ponder the meaning of life, of living with mental illness, and living with survivor's guilt. It's something that I know will pass and even now, the thoughts are more passive than anything. Typing this all out scares me. I am scared of the stigma that will come about me even talking about the line existing. Talking about the thoughts that come into my brain. But that's just it. We all need to talk about it. We cannot allow mental illness, and all that comes with it, to be swept under the rug. We have to bring awareness to it. The more we stigmatize it, the less likely we are to seek help, the more likely we are to cross over.

With that said, I am going to do something extremely scary. I am going to post this blog's link for everyone. I am going to open up my thoughts, my suffering, for all in my life to read. With this act, it will be my first step on the road to helping others out there. I will talk about it openly, and if they choose, they can talk to me about it openly. Then we can help and support each other. I am also signing up for peer support specialist training, if I can find a date that I can attend! If I can save one person, that would give my life meaning...

Until then, I will sit on my side of the line, and look out to those who were so unlucky to be sitting opposite of me.

Not doing well posting

Lately I haven't had a desire to post updates. What can I say? The world has seriously gone so downhill. It's not like I've been really focusing on trying to stay safe. There is just so much horribleness in the world. Like so much gun violence and senseless killing. I cry every day thinking about it. Any time I am alone, I just cry or panic now...

I haven't been taking my BusPar. I know, I probably should start taking it again. I am having panic attacks and crying fits again. I guess I will start taking it tomorrow. I just wish I didn't have to take it all. I had 5 panic attacks last Sunday. They were back to back to back. I had one this morning and had to sit in my parked car for a few minutes before composing myself to move along.

Even when I feel good and confident I am still scared in public. I am scared that someone will shoot me in the face for no reason. Someone will come up and just senselessly murder me. That at any moment gun violence will break out.

I am crying right now... I guess I really need to start taking those pills again.

I am just not ready for the world. The world terrifies me.

Safety

I am obsessed with the idea of feeling safe. I need to get my hands on a tally counter or something similar to see how often these thoughts come up a day.

Lately, I suppose I haven't been feeling too safe in my home. I keep imagining (to the point where I make myself audibly gasp), that someone will break into my house and kill me. Then what would my reaction be if confronted by that person.

For example, sometimes when I am showering, after Erich leaves for work, I just imagine the door slowly creeping open. A man walking stealthily through the house, and opening the bathroom door. He points a gun at me and I turn around and face him. I imagine not begging for my life, but for him to please at minimum to call my mother and let her know what happened, so Erich isn't the one to find me. I wonder if there is any reasoning with a person like that, but I cannot help but try and imagine it. Then I imagine what it will feel like after the gun goes off. How do I fall to the floor/shower? How does the blood splatter? Would he shoot me in my head or chest? Will he turn off the water after?

When I am in my basement, I imagine something similar, but my urge to hide overrides my urge to reason with him. I try to figure out what is the best place to hide if an intrude forces his way in, upstairs. Should I grab my animals and take them to another room and lock the door? Should I try to escape out the window? Should I lay flat and play dead? In this scenario I always imagine the choice I make being the wrong one and him finding me and shooting me.

Obsessive thoughts.

I just cannot shake them. I still constantly have the thoughts that I have posted about previously, but I never realized how often I have them in my own home. My home is supposed to be safe, but I guess I never fully feel safe there either. Will I always have these thoughts? Will they keep me safe, or are they just taking up useless space in my mind? Will I ever feel safe?

There is too much ugliness in the world. Too many attacks, shootings, and evil doings. I don't think I will feel safe anywhere in the world.

Everyone around me is falling apart

Just because I'm dealing with all of this, doesn't mean other people are not struggling as well. Every body is struggling with their own issues, and those issues are the most important to the individual.

Something horrible recently happened to a close friend. I will not say what happened, but it was one of the most awful things that can happen to a person. I was told at a time where I was already feeling low. I perked myself up and tried my best to be there for that person...

...But they wouldn't stop coming to me for advice. I felt the weight of my own issues I carry, and now this new issue with a friend pounding down on me. I had to shut off my phone for piece of mind, and let them take care of themselves. I just couldn't give them any more at that moment.

Then, when I turn my phone back on, I am sucked into another whirlwind. In a group message, other people I am close to are bickering. They are telling each other how to live their live's, pulling out mistakes from the past, telling them mistakes they will make in the future are not smart. Personal attacks... Every time I tried to jump in and cut them off, I got either ignored or accused of sweeping it under the rug.

It eventually caused me to have a vicious panic attack. I was at least a week free of panic attacks until yesterday. Everyone's issues seem to be coming to the surface and I want to be there to help, but I am not strong enough... Mentally, I am not there.

I cried last night. I had asthma problems all night. That panic attack messed me up.

I am trying to keep positive and pursue my goals of being a peer support specialist. I want to be there to help others... But I recognize I am not strong enough for it now.

Friday Update... But on a Monday!

Okay so here is the update from my Doctor's appointment on Friday.

We started doing prolonged exposure again. We took a few breaks from it for various reasons: I was worried about Erich, one week, and she gave me tips to deal with him. She was out sick one week. I was sleep deprived another week and she told me to rest up. So basically... It was my first time in a long time doing exposure therapy. The last time I did it, I was a wreck the rest of the week. Cried all day, nightmares all night, panic attacks everywhere in-between. So I decided I should not drive myself to my appointment because it would be too much for me to handle driving home.

I was right. We started up prolonged exposure. We started it by reading the letter I wrote to Ann. It was short and to the point, but it still brought out a lot of emotion for me. As I was reading it I could see the scene again. It was like I could read the words but in my mind I was flashing back to her, and her husband, and her cries. I feel so connected to her, and I know she must not even remember me at all. She has become a part of my day, everyday. I hope she is doing well. I hope she is surrounded by loved ones. I hope she is finding happiness again. I would love to know how she is doing and be able to help her out, in any way I could.

Anyways, we started talking more about the incident. I told her I opened up, in person, to a few people, but not many at all. Like 3 people in total. I told her I started blogging everyday about things, like what happened, how I feel day to day, what PTSD is like. She was surprised. She said that it looks like I've been doing some prolonged exposure at home as well. That this blog is a form of exposing myself and making it the new normal. New Normal. Ugh. I guess I need to get used to it, that who I am now, and what happened to me, is now my new normal. Nothing will ever be like it once was.

I was a bit shaken up from that experience, but my anxiety was controllable, until I left her office. Then the tears came and I was visibly shaken. Lucky, I had a friend take me home, so I didn't have to drive, and I just did some self care at home.

Next time, she is going to make me close my eyes and take me through an imaginary scenario. From there, we are going to work and get me to the airport... the the baggage claim area... which makes my anxiety high.

Future Goals!

Here is something I am really dying to talk about. I mentioned searching for a sense of community; finding someone out there who experienced or is going through something similar to what I am. Most online support groups are impersonal, and most local support groups are geared towards Veterans- which they experience is completely different than mine. The recovery might be the same, but it doesn't feel the same to me, and I don't want to intrude on what they might find a "safe space." Not sure if that makes sense, but it makes sense to me in my head.

Anyway, I mentioned wanting to find someone to reach out to; to find support and to support others in a similar situation. I mentioned a shooting happening a week or so ago in Louisville, and how that there had to be someone who was there having similar symptoms as I am. How these attacks are coming up frequently and there are people who were put in my position and that I just know they might want to reach out to someone as well. I just know it, and I want to be there for them and we can help each other out.

She agreed. She pointed out that being able to help others is one of the "good" things to come out of this experience. She said that if I cannot find one, make one. Reach out to the local police department and see if there is an interest. Reach out to the local colleges and see if they have anything. Or just put out some feelers and start one on my own. I don't have to lead it, it could be group led. I absolutely love that idea so...

New Goals

Short Term: Exorcise 10 mins a day, 3 times a week (Doctor's orders). Go out in public, alone, with no support nearby. Find a support group or put out some feelers for one.
Long Term: Create a group, be a mentor to others who are in my shoes.

Another terrorist attack in Europe

I know I didn't write yesterday. I just was exhausted from writing. I also feel like I am starting to become redundant. But today, there was yet another major terrorist attack in Europe. Sweden to be exact. And now I am terrified.

I feel like I am about to start bawling my eyes out. My medicine can only suppress so much. My PTSD shadow is here. I feel like the shooter is right behind me and will kill me. I am at work and I am alone and I am freaking out.

I just need to go some where and hide for a while

It's hard

I am going to be frank. It's hard. It's hard living with mental illness. That's what it is, mental illness. It's hard to deal with all the things going on in my life and maintain healthy relationships with those around me. I cannot stay for parties, I cannot go out a lot of places. I cannot be there for important events or milestones. I feel bad for backing out of plans. I feel bad for crying in front of them. I feel bad for being me.

It feels like they have become my caretakers. Like I cannot be real friends with them because I cannot function properly. I don't want to take advantage of them. I feel so bad that it's not as give and take as a good friendship should be. It's more that they give and I take because I need to take and I cannot give much of myself right now.

I have a few baby showers coming up. I know I probably won't be able to stay the whole time. I haven't even seen the mommas-to-be more than, what, two times each? I feel like I cannot be there for them during this wonderful time in their life. I feel like I am neglecting them.

I hurt them. I know I must hurt them. I know they must feel guilty for feeling hurt too. I hate that I am doing this to people I love. I know that I am doing better, but I know I am not there yet. I need to step up my game. I need to be the person, the friend, I used to be. I need to find a way to make it up to them all. To show them I love them.

I just don't know how.

And it hurts.

The storm is calming

It was thundering not too long ago. It's still fresh so I am choosing to write about it. It sent electricity through my veins. Started from my heart and spread. It made my lungs freeze and my ears ring. They are still ringing. Everytime it thunders I scream. My eyes are watery. My ears can't stop ringing. I still feel like my veins are in shock. I am scared knowing it could thunder again. I hate this. I know if I tried to stand I would fall. My knees are weak. I am weak.

It's hard to keep these posts going

Nightmares haven't stopped. I am now on a medication called Prazosin. This is in addition to the Sertraline and Buspirone.

I've started taking my Setraline in the morning instead of at night. I am actually getting more sleep because of doing that! Not a full nights, but more than 2-3 hours. I went through a crazy temporary withdraw from switching it up though. I cried at E V E R Y T H I N G and my panic attacks came back in full force. I felt like I couldn't breath all day. Everything was setting me off. All from switching from taking that pill around 10-11PM and now taking it when I wake up in the morning... around 7-8AM. Those hours made a huge difference. Also made me scared to ever give up the medication.

Prazosin is now prescribed to keep the nightmares at bay. I was told by my doctor that this is what Vets, and other PTSD sufferers, are prescribed to keep the nightmares in control. If I could stop dreaming about shootings I would be in heaven. She said it isn't going to make them stop completely, but will keep my reaction to them under control. So no early morning panic attacks. Maybe making the nightmares lessen, and in some cases no memory of them at all. Heaven.

Erich is planning on opening up to Roberto. I am excited about that. Again, he flat out told me he didn't want to open up to me, for fear of triggering me. He came to the conclusion of opening up to Roberto on his own! Thank. God. He has been officially diagnosed with depression... again. He turned down medication for it, which isn't wise. I told him at his next appointment he needs to get on something. All I can be is a good example to him, and show him how the medication is helping me.  I will stop nagging him about medication, and he seems to have come to the conclusion that he needs to take his current medication as directed! Hopefully when he opens up to a friend, they will encourage him to do the same.

My session with my doctor was only 30 minutes on Friday. She didn't want to continue it since my lack of sleep was obvious. Also I forgot to bring my letters and stuff. She said we can continue prolonged exposure therapy this Friday. She also said that she is impressed at the way I handled Erich's outburst and how well I am progressing so far. She makes it seem like it's a BIG improvement, so I guess I should be proud of myself for that. She thinks we can start spacing out our appointments. So that's another good thing.

Had a relaxing weekend away from home. Went to Patoka Lake with Erich and my Family (Marcus, Kelly, Kristen, Beau, Alysha, Liam, Lilly, Becca, Anthony, and Mom). Whoa, full house! Here are the few pictures I took.

Erich at the lake 

Patoka Lake in Indiana

My niece Lilly

Enjoying the hot tub on a cool morning