I apologize for the dark post a few days ago. There is a confession I need to make to you all.
I suffer from Complex Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. It warps my mind, and as I have developed my physical ailments, it has worsened.
My poor, loving husband has borne the bulk of its weight. My C-PTSD is triggered by loud sounds, and my husband is a loud person if and when he talks. He moves exaggeratedly, and sometimes him working in the kitchen would frighten me when all he was doing was cleaning up after dinner.
This led to me withdrawing. I hid under the covers in our master suite and cried, thinking the world was crashing down around me. I was a refugee in a war I never fought in the prison of my mind. (This is a flowery metaphor. I am not a veteran nor a refugee, in this I am blessed. I do have an overactive imagination and I would imagine war scenes.)
Many years ago, I had a certain trauma. I never knew how much it would haunt me. I didn’t even know a person could develop PTSD from the trauma I endured.
I wrote a piece for The Mighty entitled How PTSD Affected My Engagement and Marriage that chronicled my saga with my husband and my health journey. In this article, I reveal a time when I actually ran away from him due to a trauma response triggered by our honeymoon. My husband did nothing wrong. I simply had a psychotic break caused by reliving a part of my life that had gone untouched for so long which happened to be a huge part of my trauma.
Well, my husband and I had a married life instance of insignificant import this past week.
Once again, I became triggered by my husband a second time during our marriage. We will not be departed from one another. He will learn about tone, and I am still in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) to try to fix myself.
I wonder if I will ever be free, in addition to the compounding effects of the fact that my diagnosis is largely unknown.
Last week, I had an autoimmune problem. Now the docs are saying that the problem is neurological, and possibly very scary. I’ve been crying each time I think of the possibilities. It’s hard to see good in any of this.
Then I remember that once again, my husband is waiting for me at home. He is doing his best to understand. This is a good thing.
With this in mind, I am reminded of the poem entitled Sonnet by Neil Gaiman:
“I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such,
Although I liked a few folk pretty well.
Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch.
For brave men died and empires rose and fell
For love, girls follow boys to foreign lands.
And men have followed women into hell.
In plays and poems someone understands,
There’s something makes us more than blood and bone,
And more than biological demands.
For me love’s like the wind unseen, unknown.
I see the trees are bending where it’s been.
I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown.
I really don’t know what I love you means.
I think it means don’t leave me here alone.”
Bear, I really don’t know what I love you means, but I think it means don’t leave me here alone. I think you know what I love you means.
Thank you for loving me through the crazy.