Had a breakdown. Wound up in the looney ward for 24 hours. I totally wasn’t even suicidal. I just wanted help. This is what happens when you have PTSD and anxiety and ask for help. You go in and ask for help, and they admit you and declare you’re suicidal even though you explicitly say you’re not suicidal.

You tell them, “I don’t want to die. I just want to stop hurting.” Boom. They say you’re fucking suicidal and admit you. Fuck them.

I’m angry. I’m angry as hell.


PTSD – Wtf is it?


Y’all, it’s gonna get real up in here today. Sister over here about to bust out the big words. So sit down and just let me write this here stuff down, and I promise I’ll break it all down in the end.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a serious, life-altering disorder occurring after a scary or dangerous event in a person’s life. As is the case with many invisible illnesses, there is widespread lack of understanding in regards to PTSD. Many believe that only combat veterans can have the disorder, and many others believe that, like depression, it is something that you should “suck it up” and just “think happy thoughts” to get over. Unfortunately for those who have to deal with PTSD on a regular basis, that not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.

Now How This Works

Let’s be real for a minute. No joking here. All bullshit aside for just a minute. The image below is a good resource for screening with PTSD. If you believe that you have PTSD, you may want to consider filling this out and bringing it in to a mental health professional who is familiar with PTSD treatment. I favor the Treatments That Work series. I have been in and out of therapy since my 20s. I am now 40 years old, and this is the first treatment that has ever been even remotely successful. It’s more work than I’ve ever put forth, but it’s worth it.


PTSD Checklist – Click to enlarge

Okay. Let’s break it down, y’all. Hyperarousal, a state of excessive responsiveness and heightened psychological stress, causes an increase in the levels of cortisol that is released into your body.

Now you’re sitting over there saying, “Sister, what the fuck is cortisol? Why you using all these big fancy words today?” Cortisol is a hormone released into your body also known as the stress hormone. It’s what triggers that feeling of, “OMG I’M GONNA FUCKING DIE!” feeling that goes off in your brain. Cortisol in normal amounts is a healthy thing. Your brain actually slowly releases cortisol to bring your body out of it’s sleep cycle at night. It’s what helps us wake up in the morning. Cortisol is what lets us know when something actually is dangerous. However, when there is too much cortisol being released into our body for too long we run a higher risk of type 2 diabetes, insomnia, obesity, high blood pressure, chronic fatigue, chronic pain, and a host of other illnesses.

You might be still saying, “Sister, I’m about sick of this shit today? What in the actual shit you talking about?” Real talk here. If you feel like everything scares the shit out of you and you always wanna be jumping out of your skin, that’s hyperarousal. Now we gotta figure out a way for you to stop doing that shit. I mean nobody wants to be scared all the time, and those of you who think it’s funny to keep scaring people all the time who don’t like being scared, I got one word for you.



Okay. Now that I got that of my chest…

There is treatment. There is help. You can overcome this. I’m starting to see this. I’ve been in therapy for two-and-a-half years now. I started off in anger management therapy with Counselor Dude, and now I see a trauma therapist where it was determined I have PTSD.

I won’t lie. The treatment is hard. It’s not just hard. It’s fucking hard. It’s the fucking hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but I see changes. Some days I even see the light at the end of the tunnel. My abuse started when I was three years old. A family friend who was living with us abused me sexually, and it’s something I have relived for decades. I have never been free of this. I am not free yet, but some days I can almost picture a time when I will be free.

So today in a nutshell… PTSD symptoms = nightmares/night terrors of an event that has occurred in the past, feeling like you’re reliving a traumatic event/events, flashbacks, feeling like you’ll never be free, loss of interest in things you used to enjoy, agoraphobia, feeling numb, lack of ability to feel love for those around you, emotional avoidance, severe anxiety, avoiding thoughts about the event, or uncontrollable thoughts about the event. I could go on and on. Basically, if the event haunts you and you feel like it’s out of control, I urge you to reach out. Sidran Institute is an excellent starting point. Reach out. Get help. You’re not alone.



The Help Guide: PTSD and Trauma

The Help Guide: How To Help Someone With PTSD

Sidran Institute: Resources

Sidran Institute: National List of Trauma Treatment Programs

National Suicide Prevention Hotline  1-800-273-8255

PTSD United 

Funny thing is…

Funny thing is that I can always think of things to write about. When I go and sit down to actually write, I can’t think of a damn thing to write. All that’s going through my head right now is therapy tomorrow.

For most of my 40 years, I have buried my true feelings. I have not let people know how much I hurt inside. There was a short time when I let people in, and there was a span of a few years when I wore my heart on my sleeve. You know what that brings? That brings more hurt. People lie. People don’t keep promises. People are lazy. People don’t care. The only thing people care about is themselves. Yeah. People will do good things for other people, but not if there’s too much work involved.

Okay. Maybe everyone isn’t like that. For the past four or five months, I have been seeing a new therapist. We shall dub her Super Smart Psycho Therapy Lady. I keep psycho and therapy separated on purposed. She is far from psycho, but it amuses me so it stays. I am also still seeing Counselor Dude. Most weeks I work full-time as tech support, part-time as a transcriptionist, go to therapy 3 days a week, and do my homework for therapy. I’m so exhausted all of the time, but at the same time, I’m wired out. Hypomania has become a way of life, and now that I know what it is and what happens to my body when I become hypomanic, I can’t say that I enjoy it like I used to. Knowledge is power, but sometimes it can be a burden.



I need it. I want to write. I’ve been encouraged by so many to write, but since my last experience with blogging I really just wasn’t sure that I wanted to put myself out on the line again. I don’t regret anything, but that’s part of the problem. There’s that part of me that thinks there should be some guilt since I really did fuck with someone’s head. Even if she did deserve to have the truth about her told, I didn’t have to be the one to do it. People would have figured it out eventually. Maybe. Either way, putting myself out here again is a bit nerve-wracking. I figure I don’t have to put my name or anything out there though.

I intend on blogging and making things private. I have been encouraged to write my experiences down and publish them. I want to write a book of short stories based on my experiences. It won’t be non-fiction, but it will be truth based. Some stories will be funny. Some will be reflective. Some will be angry. Some will have a moral.

The idea is that I will just sort of write and sort it all out later. I’m best at writing short things. I don’t have the attention span for long, detailed things, and I have no interest in that sort of writing. For now, I am fairly sure that just about everything will be private though. I doubt anyone will even read this, but I need this outlet.

Still Nothing

So Counselor Dude said he’d call,  and he hasn’t. I know that he knows he said something that hurt me, or at least I think he does. Maybe he doesn’t? Whether he knows what was said or not I’m not sure. I feel dismissed, and I’m not sure what to do. I quite literally, tearfully stumbled my way out of my counselor’s office Tuesday. I drove around town a bit in order to get my mind together, and then I went home. I was supposed to go to the store. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I cried all night.

A few weeks ago someone tried breaking in my house, or maybe this person wasn’t really trying to get in as much as just scare me. I’ve also been getting a lot of hang up calls. This is a pattern that PsychoDad has done for years to my mother and occasionally me. Sometimes he acts on it, but he usually doesn’t. With all of the shootings everywhere and already struggling with agoraphobia, PTSD, and severe anxiety, someone trying to break in my house when I was home with the kids without Donnie is just the icing on the cake. I was basically telling my counselor that I thought that it was PsychoDad doing the breaking in and hang ups, and he didn’t seem to believe me when I tried explaining how bad of a person this man is. I think he was giving me the whole, “I know this is your reality, but let me tell you about actual reality…” psychology thing that psychologists do. I say I “think” he was doing that because of course I decided to choose that moment to have a major anxiety attack.

I’m not exactly sure what happened. Everything that happened seems like a nightmare. It’s not that what happened was horrific. It was more my reaction to discussing PsychoDad and the absolute fear and suffocating panic that overtook me that makes it seem like a nightmare. All I know is that I heard him say something to the effect that it was my PTSD talking, and I think I lost my brain for a bit and totally felt dismissed and not believed. I said something to the effect of how no one ever believes me, and my whole life I’ve experienced this. Then it was as though I had to leave. If I stayed still one more minute I was going to have an extreme meltdown, and I’m not very fond of meltdowns much less extreme ones. I somehow don’t think Counselor Dude would be impressed either. That’s something else I should touch on one day… why do I worry about what he thinks of me? Something to ponder on. Holy crap I’m always all over the place. I totally forgot my meds yesterday, and it’s 4:54 am anyway so it’s almost to be too take them again anyway. ANYWAY… Good gracious I digress entirely too much, but hey… I fended off another panic attack that was all up in my face. Hmmmm… is digressing possibly a coping tactic for me? Another something to ponder on at a later date. Oh good grief… doing it again.

Anyway I don’t know what happened. I just know I panicked and freaked, paid him in a hurry (overpaid actually because I had to get out quickly or it was going to be all fierce and I was going to start ugly crying and stuff), said I had to leave, asked him to just text me with another appointment, and I just left. I think he said to be careful and just kind of looked at me like I had grown another head or three.

Anyway I rode around for about an hour or so, and I got a Coke and went home. A little after 9 CounselorDude texted me, but I don’t remember why. I think to make sure I didn’t like die on my way home or something because I don’t think I’m one to like leave all dramatic and stuff. I usually try to be pretty stable when I drive. I was most certainly not stable when I left. What the eff was I thinking? I’m such a dumbass sometimes. Well anyway he said he’d call me the next day. I actually tried to keep my phone on me most of the day because I suck at that pretty bad, but he texted around 5 while I was busy. I saw text around a half hour later, and I responded that I had been busy. He hasn’t texted me back yet so now I’m all in this awkward thing where I’m wondering if it would be all weird and needy to text him to ask if I could find out what he wanted to talk about.

I’m not sure if I’m seeing what happened clearly since I know that anxiety can cloud things. I do know that I feel kind of betrayed and like an important trust has been broken. There’s a part of me that almost doesn’t believe that someone could really not grasp how absolutely psychotic this man is because it’s so obvious to me, but then the rational adult in me says that to be fair I really haven’t spoken that much about the things that PsychoDad has done so to be fair how can CounselorDude know how horrible he is?

Then there’s the indignant me that’s all omg… how can he say that’s my PTSD talking. The new rational adult bitch slaps IndignantMe and says well DUH… You’re usually open to listening to reason. Of course he was probably trying to reason with me, but yeah…. that didn’t work out so well. Apparently I am not always able to be reasoned with.

Anyway what do I do now? Call? Am I fired? I bet he gave up on me and said that was too much. I didn’t even meltdown and left so I could go cry and be ugly all by myself, and I think he gave up on me. I think I’m too needy. Lesson learned. I’m probably too much for therapists. I’m tired. Will the hurt ever stop? Where do I put the fear? I feel so helpless and alone.

Oh… It’s probably also because I told him I cut again. I wish I could stop that. People don’t like that, and no one has ever been able to give me real suggestions to help me stop. Imagine if I told him the other stuff and showed the part of me that just so desperately wants to let go of everything and cry and let go. I’ll never be free of this. It will always weigh me down. It will always be there. Oh god I hate what those men did to me. I will never be free, and it’s somehow my fault.

I’m going to bed. It’s going on 6 am. Again.

I am NOT only a disorder

You don’t know what this man is capable of. You don’t know what he’s done. I was there when he raped her ya know. I was the one he put clear shower curtains up for. I was the one to hide my sister in the closet so she wasn’t scared or hit. I was the one who tried to make her smile. I woke up with her in the mornings. All those things are little though.

I was also there when he ripped the entire doorframe off of my mama’s trailer. I heard her cry and been him to leave her alone. I was the one he told that I’d never be free of him. I watched him stalk my mom’s neighborhood all these years, and I’ve seen him in mine.

You don’t know what he’s capable of. You weren’t there when he ran us off the road with my kids in the car. Logic doesn’t work with this man because it all sounds like a bad movie that never ends and goes on and on and on without any plot twists. Just the same thing month after month until bam one day he’s there again. You don’t know the harassment I went through from his family with even his cousins calling me ugly names. You weren’t there.

I am not just my PTSD talking. I am not just my fear. Yes it is a controlling factor in my life right now, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m afraid to go to the movies for all of the shootings. I’m can’t go into Walmart because what if I see him or my ex. I’m afraid to go out to get the mail because what if the neighbors see what an ugly slob I am so if I do go out its at midnight.

I’m afraid because of the economy. I’m afraid because I’m alone. I’m afraid because no one ever believes me and is dismissive towards my fears.

Don’t tell me it’s my PTSD talking. They hurtful. Maybe the anxiety is my PTSD talking, but the rest is real. I am afraid that he’ll come back and hurt me. He hurt me so bad.

It’s after 6 am on Thursday. I haven’t slept since Monday night. I need help. 8 need someone to tell me how to do this.

Cutting again. I obsess on it. Heaven help me not to.


Yup… I’m doing it. It’s fucking hard. Been going a few months now, and today was the first time I actually told some real shit. How I still smell him at night. How I still feel him. I can hear his voice. I feel and smell his sweat dripping on me. I taste him. I said how I still hate being touched sexually. The only time I didn’t mind being touched sexually was when I wanted a baby. It wasn’t so bad then. Now I hate it. I want to vomit after.

The only way I can get turned on now is if he’s violent, and my poor Mr. Unholy… He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body. I am so fucked up the head that I think the only way I’d be ok with sex is if he practically raped me. That can’t be normal. Is it?

I wish someone was here to hold me. I need to fall apart. I need an eescape. I’ve been feeling things. The depression is sucking me in again. I feel it. It feels so much stronger than I am. I wish these memories would go away.