The thing that I really hate about PTSD is the way it sneaks up on you. Little pinpricks of sadness in an otherwise comfortable and happy life. Pinpricks, that’s really the best word to describe it. Yesterday was a perfect example of this.
I woke up in an exceptionally good mood. It’s pretty hard NOT to be in a good mood when greeted with an adorable smiling 16 month old each morning, but yesterday was even better. I got her up, fed her breakfast and started on my weekly cleaning rituals. I don’t know why, but something about Sunday has always been my cleaning day. I mean I clean through out the week, but I mop, dust, vacuum and scrub the bathrooms on Sundays. I think it’s because Kevin is home to watch Nora so I can actually focus on my cleaning tasks as opposed to doing spot cleaning a few minutes here and a few minutes there while checking up on Nora through out the week. ANYWAY… that’s not the point of this story. lol. I was cleaning like most Sundays perfectly content to be doing so. Enjoying my mundane housework, and thankful that I have a wonderful family to care for. Just in an all around good mood.
Because I actually WANTED to be doing my chores instead of forcing myself to do them I got a whole bunch accomplished. The entire house is clean, which made me feel even better. By the end of the day after Nora was in bed, I sat down to my computer with a glass of wine and really just wound down for the evening. Kevin and I watched some TV, and eventually made our way to bed. He usually doesn’t fall asleep when I do just because I get up early with Nora and he gets home from work so late our sleeping schedules are pretty different. Even though he doesn’t fall asleep when I’m ready to hit the hay he will come cuddle with me, and talk until I fall asleep, or get close enough to sleep that I tell him it’s okay to head back out to the living room. Some of our most wild off the wall conversations take place in those few moments before I drift off to sleep, and I really do cherish those moments.
It’s also probably the most dangerous piece of time during my day. Because I’m only half awake my triggers are ultra sensitive, and it’s dark. I can’t always see Kevin as Kevin and if he says just the right thing, or moves just the right way I trigger, and just like that: the most beautiful, cherished moment between my husband and I, the thing I look forward to each and every night is tainted. Tiny little needles of sadness radiate from a millisecond that my mind misinterprets until I’m either in tears or pissed off. Which reaction I have is pretty much a coin toss, depending on what exactly it is that initiates the trigger response. That’s just it. It’s not ONE thing that does it, so I can’t ask Kevin to avoid x in hopes that it won’t happen again. Some times I don’t even know what happens to initiate it. One minute I’m fine, and the next I’m not.
What’s even more frustrating is accepting the fact that this will probably always be a part of our marriage. A wall between us, a disconnect, the inability to be intimate with each other. Not in a physical sense, but in an emotional sense. I will always trigger in those quiet moments, which will always leave a missing piece in our relationship. I am thankful that my triggers are at least not violent. I mean if I’m stuck with this thing at least I can deal with the fact that I won’t physically hurt anyone else. Emotionally, is a completely different story, but at least physically Kevin is safe. Hopefully with time and effort Kevin can at least reach a level of understanding where it doesn’t sting so bad. I still feel awful. Which has robbed me of my happiness at least for a while today.
I have one piece of canvas left, so I think I might paint for a while this afternoon. My artsy stuff always puts me in a better mood. I might even break out the finger paints and let Nora join me. Until later Bloggies. 🙂