Hate 

Things I hate most about my PTSD are the triggers, which always seem to show up and knock me down after a nice long stretch of calm. I had a great week. So many good and positive things happened. I was thrilled to be spending the evening with my Hubs after he got home from work on Friday night. We rarely get to see one another through the week, and our usual schedule of intimacy has taken a hit.

Friday nights are our special nights together. The kids are sleeping, I don’t have to get up early for work the next day, and Hubs doesn’t either. I always make sure to have a good dinner ready for him when he gets home, and we talk about everything that’s happened during the week. We aren’t always intimate, but most of the time we are.

Last week, for whatever reason something set me off. I don’t know what it was so we can’t prevent it from happening again, but right there in the middle of things I had a flashback, got overwhelmed and started to cry. Except that I couldn’t all out cry because I didn’t want Hubs to worry that he had hurt me in someway. He didn’t. Something about my brain and the moment just said: “fuck you, remember this?!”

That was all it took for the entire night and most of the next day to be clouded in an emotional darkness. I wanted to tell Hubs why I was distant and feeling off, but I didn’t want to explain in front of the kids who never leave Hubs’ side when he’s home. I bore the burden of an unhappy memory floating around in the surface of my subconscious alone.

It was a mishmash of feelings. Lots of anger, lots of sadness, lots of self loathing, rage made an appearance, and it all culminated in a deep exhaustion by the end of the day. It wasn’t even a flashback of the assault I endured by a previous intimate partner. It was the night he came home during Christmas Break from BMT.

Which I guess does make some sort of sense. I’ve been avoiding dealing with those memories for a while. They were too painful. I’ve addressed them, but I haven’t actually dealt with them if that makes sense? I acknowledge them and their reality. I’m not in denial or dissociative in regards to what happened over our last two weeks together, but I still haven’t been able to bring myself to feel them yet. That’s when the betrayal really started. When his friends and family had enough of his poor treatment of me and started spilling his secrets left and right. It was like everyone was clearing their conscious knowing they’d never see me again.

I was the last one he told that he’d met someone else. I knew he wasn’t faithful while we were together, and we discussed an open relationship while he was away. That wasn’t a surprise, but the fact that he had planned on leaving me after Christmas never came up while we were discussing the plans for our future. He told everyone else, and a few of them told me, but I didn’t want to believe them.

I wish I could go back and thank them for trying to be honest with me. I can’t lol. It would be entirely too weird, and really selfish to just find them and randomly show up with a thank you for something they likely don’t even remember. They were always “his friends” we never really had our own relationships. Now I’m just the OMG CRAZY BLOG GIRL IS CRAZY.

This is what I hate about my PTSD. The inability to have the closure and move forward even when I want to. The seedlings of regret, and the hindsight to make them painful.