Monthly Archives: October 2018

Insomnia

That fear of going to sleep is back. It’s not debilitating, but it’s making it difficulty to get rest.

It’s not really connected to anything in the present, I’m just anxious and uncomfortable about going to sleep, even of I’m exhausted.

I used to be ok if i stayed on the couch, but lately it’s there too. I suddenly don’t like night time, though I’m paradoxically most comfortable in the dark (or, part of me is because even as I write that, it doesn’t totally ring true. Part of me has always been uncomfortable with the dark hours, but part of me feels most comfortable there… it’s so confusing sometimes).

Anyway, I’m nervous about going to sleep. I’m nervous about the nighttime… and I’m out of the mj that helps me sleep, so there really isn’t relief.

I’m exhausted, but I’m afraid to sleep. Even of I get sleep, I don’t feel rested, but i also feel the need to keep going. I’m having trouble just sitting still, or just being. I need to be occupied. I need to have my mind focusing on something else. I need to avoid thinking and feeling at all costs… it feels like I’m running from something, but again, I’m not quite sure what.

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dumb question…

can you have flashbacks of non- trauma memories?

Or, at least I don’t think that bit was traumatic…

It happened at mil’s house tonight, both the kids were doing their homework. Our great niece kept doing anything but reading, and MeeMa kept telling her to “read [her] book”. For a few seconds, I was a kid, hearing that same phrase while doing homework… it was my aunt saying it? Or maybe my mom? I’m not really sure, but it was an adult female in the family and it wasn’t bitch… Or maybe it was?

It was so strong in the moment that it happened, but it’s mostly faded now.

I did recall feeling uncomfortable, like i was waiting for more fighting, but… it was such a weird moment… and it wasn’t a flashback directly to a domestic violence moment (the only kinds that come with visuals and sound for me. The sa memories are 90% physical with only the vaguest sense of what the situation actually was)…

I dunno… it felt so real though, and it’s so dissolved now…


That escalated quickly (in a good way)

So, I’ve been half-heartedly researching the idea of acquiring a service dog for years now. I think having one would be a good idea, especially with my current physical crap.

So, I casually threw a request out on fb yesterday, mostly asking basics like if anyone had leads on reputable organizations that train for mobility/assistance work & ptsd/psychiatric work.

A trainer friend responded.

We got to talking about what I was looking for in an s. d., thoughts on training my own, and where to look for prospects.

Before I knew it, we had a plan mostly together to find me a dog and begin training.

I didn’t exactly expect to move this fast, but the idea of having support and assistance in the form of a dog is relieving.

I really dislike bugging people for things. Having a trained service dog will mean I don’t have to make sure someone is with me to carry things, or to help open doors when I get fatigued, or to help me ground from flashbacks.

This is awesome! (Intimidating also, because I worry about my ability to be consistent, but my friend said she’ll be there to help)…

Now, to round up the cash for the dog, vet bills, and training…

Another friend has been bugging me to make her some play therapy figurines. She’s taking this opportunity to get me to follow through. She offered to cut me in on profits of any of the pieces I make to help raise money for this venture.

I’m also thinking of doing some smaller pieces of art to sell as a way to raise more money.

I seriouslly dislike the concept of handouts (it always feels like there are strings attached), so selling stuff to make cash will be a way of avoiding having to ask people to give me money…

Now, to figure out what to try to sell for a fundraiser. Thoughts?


more stupid triggers

I had a neoropsych assessment last week in hopes that it help point us in a direction for this weird physical stuff I’m experiencing.

During the assessment, the psychologist was flipping pages in a booklet, showing me pictures of stuff I needed to try to remember. At one point, I stated losing track of what the pictures were, and started focusing on her hand turning the pages, and what the paper sounded like. It wasn’t really a conscious thing, just my attention switching. The sound of the pages turning became the loudest thing in my head, and I couldn’t see anything but her hand. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to trigger something. I started feeling body stuff in the middle of this test that shouldn’t be triggering or disturbing… She caught on that something was up, and I told her that her turning the pages were triggering for some reason I couldn’t pinpoint (and still really can’t). She continued with the testing, but let me turn the pages from then on.

It’s seriously the stupidest little things that hit me out of nowhere… wtf??

Some days I want to scream at the memories to leave me alone and let me continue on with my life.

Oh, so the preliminary results (mostly just from her knowing the general average results, without any real scoring yet) have my verbal memory functioning at “seriously impaired”. She suggested that it’s likely due to the medical marijuana, but since it’s the only real thing that helps the ptsd, to keep taking it. Overall, the verbal memory impairment is less problematic than the impairment from the symptoms it treats… this might be the one time I agree with the phrase “the benefits outweigh the side effects”.


Stupidest things are triggering

They tested the presidential alert thing this afternoon… i wish there was a way to block those things, but apparently it’s “mandatory”.

The cheeto is already triggering enough, I don’t need him forcing his way into my life when I work so hard to block him out. There’s so safe place. There’s no way to block it out…

It’s like G when we were growing up; even if you ran to your room to hide, or tried agreeing to get him to shut up, he kept going. He’d barge in even through locked doors, and keep yelling. You were forced to listen. There was no quick and safe way out. It’s the same with these stupid alerts; there’s no escape.

I’m sitting here trying to calm myself down, to remind myself it’s not G, but it’s not working so well…

I wish I knew how to root my phone so I could block that stuff from coming through.