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.

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.

I die every day

I guess I only have myself to blame. I put myself in these stressful situations. I started my day with espresso, I went to a big, loud event with lots of people in a neighborhood that recently had some shootings, I tried to be a mediator when my family was arguing, and I picked up that book again. I can only blame myself for ending my already intense day with a book on an intense subject. I can only blame myself for dying again.

As you can see from the entry that proceeds this, I had a PTSD episode. I can only blame myself. I was the trigger. I was reading the story and thinking about my weekend. How many times I freaked out because of how dark it was outside or in a room I was occupying - remember, I am scared of the dark - and then like magic, a panic attack comes over me. I've been getting better at handling my attacks. Learning to breathe is the biggest thing - but that's a whole other thing.

After I put the book down, I turned on my side. I started thinking about why I was scared of the dark. What is the connection bridging the attack that happened in daylight inside a lit airport, to make darkness so triggering for me. I figured it out - as I laid on stomach, with my head tilted to the side facing my ghost. It was because that's all I could think about when I was waiting to die. I was thinking about the blackness that comes after your heart stops beating - the nothingness. I started to cry. I just wanted to go to bed.

As I crawled into bed, with freshly washed sheets, I couldn't stop lying like that. On the stomach, head to the side, facing my ghost. I thought of his shoes. I thought of Terry's shoes. I started going back there. I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop remembering Terry. Everything around me seemed hyper-realistic. It felt like a reality beyond our own, that wasn't meant to be seen. Like looking through a telescope, pointed at a camera lens, that is pointed at a magnifying class. I could see into something that we ignore everyday, a reality that is just out of sight to the untrained eye.

I was there again. I could see him in front of me. I was still on the edge of the bed but his shoes were right in front of me. The ghost's shoes are pacing back and forth from our area. Terry is already dead, I can sense it. I know what I am seeing is not real, but yet it is real to me every single day. Erich helps me snap out of it. I didn't realize tears were streaming from my face. He was asking me questions, but I couldn't communicate with him. Even a simple head nod seemed impossible. That's when the paranoia kicked in.

So what was a PTSD episode like this time? It was a massive panic attack. I mentioned earlier that I am getting better at handling my panic attacks. I can keep them under control to an extent. This, however, I am a slave to. It's like my brain and body forget how to breathe. My breathing is short, fast, and erratic. No amount of preparation can keep me in control. I then think I am going to die.

When I say I think I am going to die, it's as close to literal as I believe you can get. I truly, honestly, believe that I am about to die. I can vividly imagine the gun going off at my head. I know I can never fully put into words how it feels, because it's a feeling most people never experience. Having your brain work so hard against you to make you believe that each moment, a gun will go off and then the blackness will set in... It's something I don't think anyone should have to experience.

I am crying as I type this out because I know how I felt yesterday. How terrifying it is to feel that way. To feel that way almost every day right before a panic attack. To feel that way almost every minute during an PTSD episode. I am not me during an episode. Looking back on what happened last night, it feels like it was a completely different person it was happening to. The me I am now wants to go and hug that girl. To tell her she isn't going to die. To tell her that everything will be okay. To lie to her until she feels better. I am in tears now because my heart breaks for that girl, and I know next time I see that girl, I still will not be able to help her.

I feel like I have more to say, but I just can't right now. I am too emotional and I have to put on a fake smile for work. Please, everyone who is reading this, go hug someone you love right now. Please do that for me. Let everyone in your life know that you love them. Pray for those who cannot find love in their life. Pray for me, because I feel like I will not feel love today.

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.

I'm just going to leave this here

Uninjured Victims of the Virginia Tech speak out after ten years.

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.

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

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.

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.