It's Impossible To Live With PTSD

Today it happened again. After work my colleagues and I were just going to hang out a bit and socialize at a local cafe. Yet while waiting while they were chatting with each other at the office, drinking beer and smoking, I began to feel increasingly less comfortable. First moving away due to the cigarette smoke irritating my eyes and airways, I began to feel increasingly less wanted. I felt threatened. I had to get away. After hanging on for a while I just started walking back to where I'm staying at the moment. All the way I felt frightened. Of someone running after me. Of a phone call asking me where I had gone to. Yet I had no choice.

While walking I felt sad and bitter, that there's no place for me. That I do not matter. I didn't feel like I should further attempt to socialize with people at the work place. Back at my room I just closed the door, vowing to not leave it any more until Monday. Sitting down in front of my laptop I just started watching videos. I felt numb. I also felt certain that this was just the proof I needed that there is nothing for me here either. That there is no place for me anywhere on this planet. I can not keep running forever.

Then my head started clearing up again after maybe an hour or two. All of those convictions and the super-strong sense of fear and terror I had felt up to that point began to fade. I'm still feeling it to some extent, but I mostly bitterly regret not staying, missing one of the few chances I have to talk to my colleagues before I am supposed to move here. I can't tell at which point the PTSD took hold of me. It happened so gradually, tweaking my way of thinking so subtly that I honestly did not notice that anything about my way of thinking had changed until just now.

I hate PTSD.

I also know that it is being triggered by so many things, the thought or suggestion of being unwanted just one of them. There is no warning for most triggers. Some I can recognize in advance. This one I didn't. The most horrible thing is that for a few hours I literally wasn't myself, that I completely lost control over my very thoughts and body. How am I supposed to function like this in heaven's name?! How can I be expected to pull off all the details around moving to a new country when at every time things like this happen? And even if by some miracle that all works out, it'll just keep happening after that. Forever.

With no medical and/or psychological help forthcoming it keeps pushing me towards the uncomfortable realization that there simply is no way I can continue this existence. It's better to end it while I'm still myself at times.

I don't know any more... I just can not see a way out of this living hell any more.

Not that it matters that I write any of this. It won't change anything. All of these words are meaningless. My blog is meaningless. My life and everything I have suffered and done means nothing. I didn't change anything. Nobody will jump in and save me.

Observe closely, for this is what it looks like when the last tiny flame of hope flickers and dies.


Maya