The House PTSD Built
This morning, once again, I woke up with my pillow soaked with tears, the sobs still fresh in my throat. I wiped my face off with my sleeve, as I sat up, trying to remember what dream I’d had, what had made me so bitterly sad that I’d wept in my sleep loudly enough to wake myself. Nothing. My memory banks came up with nothing.
I sighed as I changed my pillow case. Normally I dream about new and exciting ways to mock John C. Mayer, and although John C. Mayer could have been the reasons for my sobs (Hey, “Your Body is a Wonderland” is a terrible song), I don’t think it was.
This is the fifth time in as many days I’ve woken up with a wet pillow case. On the rare times I can fall asleep (a hearty fuck you goes out to insomnia), this is what I’m repaid with: night terrors.
Amelia’s appointment yesterday with the EI evaluators went as expected. She’s ahead in some areas, behind in others. It’s the medical equivalent of a push and it’s certainly not something that keeps me up at night, her inability to perform quadratic equations and properly discuss string theory aside.
I’ve managed to buy her a birthday present and pink cupcake mix for her birthday on Friday (still haven’t done anything for a big blowout bash), both of which should delight her. I’m thrilled that she’s going to be thrilled by this. Everyone should be so lucky as to have pink sparkles on their birthday cuppity-cakes.
And yet I’ve spent the last couple weeks talking through clenched teeth, the most minor of infractions setting me off, sending me into a blind panic. A dead weight has settled onto my chest there’s an omnipotent feeling of cosmic not-rightness. Everything feels wrong. Nothing is wrong, yet everything feels wrong.
My feelings make no sense to me.
I know what this is. It’s PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. I hate to even write those words out because I see them and I know some assjacket is going to be all, “YER NOT A VET, YEW WHOR,” and then I’m going to feel worse because I’m already feeling guilty about feeling the way I do. I have the Girl That Lived and still I have PTSD? Certainly, I do not have a right to those feelings.
And yet I do. I’m as entitled to my feelings as the next assjacket.
Really, I liked it better when I pretended I had no feelings. I think sociopaths have that part down. Feelings are kinda bullshit. Unless we’re talking about my love of Bob Ross and Richard Simmons. Or any white guy with an Afro. White guys with Afros are most certainly NOT bullshit.
If anybody has anything to say about PTSD not being real, I’ll deal with em! It’s real. It’s paralyzing. It IS. I love you and Amelia and all your sparkly goodness. Your sparkle will be back. You will fight through the pain and emerge on the other side. Wish I could be there for the pink party!
My god, Becky. You MOST CERTAINLY DO have a right to have these feelings. Of course you do.
Come here. You need a hug.
First off LOVE the White Guys with afros myself.
And you are very entitled to your feelings. They are real as much as they suck!! And PTSD is one of the worst feelings in the world. It’s a struggle I wish no one had to live.
And I wish I could come to Amelia’s party I am jealous if it weren’t like a 7 hr. drive I would SO be there.
You don’t have to be a vet to suffer from PTSD. Don’t let them tell you that you do. That is bullshit
You don’t have to be a vet to suffer from PTSD. Don’t let them tell you that you do. That is bullshit
I love you.
I have PTSD after the birth of my son. That and postpartum depression and anxiety. My birth was not traumatic but I developed a serious allergic reaction to the epidural and had spent numerous days in and out of doctors offices and ER’s trying to help me. Even then it really wasn’t as traumatic as other “assjackets” it was extremely traumatic to me TO ME. Just like your feelings are TO YOU. They are valid because you feel it. I pray that no one try’s to downplay what you or I have been through.
I was mugged at work yesterday so all these shitty feelings are punching me in the face.
Just know like always, you will pass this as will I. You have and I have.
PS. Bob Ross is the shit. I loved his happy little trees and happy little birds that he always had to paint 😉
I have PTSD after the birth of my son. That and postpartum depression and anxiety. My birth was not traumatic but I developed a serious allergic reaction to the epidural and had spent numerous days in and out of doctors offices and ER’s trying to help me. Even then it really wasn’t as traumatic as other “assjackets” it was extremely traumatic to me TO ME. Just like your feelings are TO YOU. They are valid because you feel it. I pray that no one try’s to downplay what you or I have been through.
I was mugged at work yesterday so all these shitty feelings are punching me in the face.
Just know like always, you will pass this as will I. You have and I have.
PS. Bob Ross is the shit. I loved his happy little trees and happy little birds that he always had to paint 😉
Anybody who says you don’t have a right to experience PTSD is bullshit. And every year that Amelia thrives it will get easier, although I can’t promise that it will ever go away. But I agree, feelings are definitely bullshit. Hang in there, make those pink cupcakes, and enjoy her birthday, big bash or not.
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by enderFP, Aunt Becky. Aunt Becky said: Where I talk about PTSD AND my love of afros: http://mommywantsvodka.com/the-house-ptsd-built […]
I get it…(((hugs)))
I’m SO with you there. I’ve been an insomniac most of my life and I have raging nightmares. I’m forever seeking something that will turn my brain off at night without pickling it forevermore.
I think they should maybe call it Post-Traumatic Trauma Disorder or something. I have “complex PTSD” due to multiple traumas and any reminder of a stressful or traumatic situation from my past will set me off. I’m dealing with a feeling of powerlessness lately due to a bully neighbor and haven’t been sleeping well lately at all, my teeth are clenched constantly, and I get SO ANGRY at minor things. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings yet but am working on it in therapy…
Dude … rainbows are what happens when Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks Richard Simmons to the face.
Also? I know what it’s like to feel guilty for having PTSD when people say stupid shit about it. But don’t worry Becky, we got your back here. I still have the night terrors (ironically had one of my worst in months last night) and to be honest, they frustrate me to no end. I just want to sleep without fear of Jeff having to wake me up and watch me cry for what seems like an eternity.
Augh – My sober anniversary is coming up and I have PTSD relating to sexual assault and hitting bottom that just threw me into a two-week tailspin and I couldn’t even trace it back to its cause until today – it was seeing The Fighter. I’ll be writing about it on my blog soon too – I hope it helps to know you’re not alone and it won’t last forever.
My sober anniversary gets me a little nuts too. Hang in there.
Thanks 🙂 How many years?
15 years this past August. How many for you?
It’s not PTVSD ya know? And YOU DO have a right to feel what you feel. And if any asshats tell you different send them to me. If I can deal with my asshats telling me I’ve no right to say my dead husband sucks, I can surely deal with yours!
Ive typed out about three different responses. They all come down to: you have PTSD, rightfully. I mean, I wish you didn’t have to suffer but anyone who says you haven’t EARNED it or whatever can take their pissing contest somewhere else. People constantly want to grade, measure, qualify/disqualify others’ grief process. To make themselves feel superior or make their own discomfort go away. Your grief process and PTSD is real, it’s warranted.
And those cupcakes are going to kick ass! I’m jealous.
Yep, I’m so over the “my trauma is worse than your trauma” bs. The anniversary of my mother’s death does it to me. And things that you would think would have caused it…I’m okay with. Hang in there, Aunt Becky. This time of the year won’t last forever and I think I read somewhere that pink cupcakes eaten by cute little girls solve pretty much anything.
I’mma buy you a Bob Ross paint set. Your special painting time will just be you and the happy trees and clouds.
And that’s why Xanax is “Mother’s Little Helper”. Gives that comfortably numb feeling that you can just float in for a little while until you’re ready to deal with your issues. No judgement, Auntie…we all go through it.
I’m so sorry that you are going through this. Know that there are so many of us here for you.
My husband suffers from debilitating PTSD. It’s real. Very very real even if you’re not a vet.
You do have a right to your feelings.
Anyone who has shit to say to MY Aunt Becky about feelings of PTSD can come and TRY to kiss my ass. You have EVERY right to feel traumatized by the events surrounding Mimi’s birth. You love your child and she had to face neurosurgery to remove part of her freaking brain as a mere newborn. WTF? Who wouldn’t be traumatized by that? The fact that she is the miracle child princess of the world does not take away from what happened. You and Mimi are both amazing women (even if she’s a tiny lady right now), and people should look up to you for your strength and resilience. Critics can sit on some sharp rocks and rotate. Why I am repeating phrases from my mother at this point, I have no idea, but it seems fitting. I wish my mommy would make me pink sparkly cupcakes on my birthday, truly.
Yaaaay! It sounds like A did pretty darn good. 🙂
As for the PTSD – Lennon has annual appointments with her surgical team (and by team, I mean at least 20 doctors and medical students who won’t even all fit in the exam room). I have MAJOR anxiety attacks just thinking about those appointments. I can’t think of or visit the hospital her surgery was at, I can’t think about that day or the days after or even about the medical housing we stayed in with out gut-clenching, soul-shredding panic, nausea, cold sweat, etc, etc, etc.
PTSD bites. But you’ll make it your bitch. ((hug))
I’m not sure why anyone should dictate how you feel. If you think something is amiss. Guess what? It is probably amiss.
Hope everything gets a little better.
Clay
http://tantrumstroublesandtreasures.blogspot.com/2011/01/competing-for-mama_26.html
Been in therapy for a bunch of years with a trauma therapist. It took me 3 years just to admit I was a PTSDer. It gets better. With help and practice, it really gets better. I’m still not ‘all right’ and I’m nowhere near the wreck I once was.
Cyberhugs to you.
Feelings are bullshit. They’re even more bullshit when they infect the part of the day that should be blissfully bizarre and calming – our dreams. I hope that you’re able to get some *real* rest soon.
First sign your PTSD is real? Your belief that you haven’t “earned” the right to feel like shit. Wouldn’t it be awesome if our brains and hearts gave a shit if we’d “earned the pain”?
I’ve sat with a friend sharing our life stories and we both honestly thought, “she’s been through so much worse than I have.”
I’ve been through more than a decade of the depression roller coaster and the one thing I’ve learned is that trying to find “good reason” for how crappy you feel only makes you feel crappier. With every “reason” you find you feel worse and then you just start looking for more reasons. Downward fucking spiral.
You may or may not be interested but I’m reading a book right now – as part of my bid to finally get off of the meds – called “The Mindful Way
Through Depression.” It’s basically about using mindfulness and meditation (never a strong suit of mine but what the hell) to get out of your head and get out of the thinking habits that perpetuate depression. At this point I’m willing to give anything a shot if it means I can get my brain off the drugs.
*Cheesy internet hugs*
My daughter’s birthday is the 29th; I would totally plan a giant bash for both of them if I was closer. Pink cuppy cakes are awesome.
If you want to steal all my planning and take it for yourself, feel free 🙂
If you were claiming you had PTSD because OMG, THAT GIRL IS WEARING THE SAME DRESS AS ME! I would call bullshit. (Yes, I really heard someone say they had PTSD because someone was wearing the same outfit. I.Think.Not.) This shit is tough. I really wish I had a magic fix. All I’ve got is lots of love and imaginary hugs for you. But you can have them all.
Also? I once dated a white guy with an afro. We broke up soon after he cut it. Without the afro, he was bullshit.
HA HA – I love white guys with Afros…. you dont see enough of them anymore… 😉
Feelings aren’t always logical either. Sometimes we push our feelings away and then when they come back (an anniversary maybe?) we have to deal with them all over again. I don’t know much about PTSD, but I do know that there is no right or wrong in feelings, that’s why they are called feelings and not actions or facts. 🙂
Oh, and Happy Birthday to the little one! As a mother of a perfectly healthy five year old girl, I can’t even imagine what a wreck I would be in your place. I think you have much more strength than you know. I have crippling moments of fear just dropping her off at Pre-K!
Love you and praying for you!
I am so sorry that you are struggling. YOu have a total right to your feelings. And it’s not like it’s over and done and in a file. You are still reminded with evaluations, even though she is doing well, it’s still a reminder.
If I could magically grant you a night of sweet rest, I would.
Much love and hugs!
I read an article somewhere about PTSD in parents whose children have been critically ill (even when they live) I sure wish I could remember where now to link you to it. PTSD is just the brains way of handling a traumatic even and a critically ill child is pretty darn traumatic.
I’m with you, I hate to even mention it because of the parents whose children have died mostly. Because I’m lucky. But seeing your child so ill and in pain is a terrible experience. I wish you the best of luck this year and in the following, and happy birthday to Amelia! By the way, I would love some sparkly pink cuppity cakes for my birthday too.
Personal pain can’t be compared to others. It’s personal. It’s YOU and YOUR thoughts are all that matters where the realness and amount of pain are concerned. It’s not like you are daily wallowing in self pity because Amelia had a bad first hair cut & you didn’t get to keep a curl. And even that would be ok for a 10 minute indulgence if it mattered that much to you. Amelia’s diagnosis & surgery were traumatic. You are now past it and stressed. You are post traumatically stressed. Guns don’t need to go off around you for that diagnosis.
I totally get it, Aunt Becky.
I don’t cry at all during the day. But when I sleep? I wake myself (and my poor boyfriend) up.
I’m so so so sorry you have to deal with this PTSD shit, Aunt Becky.
Sending plenty of e-hugs! <3
PS. You're awesome.
PPS. Feelings suck balls.
Cheese and rice, Aunt Becky – how your Pranksters do love you, me included. Happy Birthday, beautiful Amelia (did I tell you I cried when I watched the video of you, waving and telling us all hello??) and happy birthday to you, too, Excellent Mom. Feel how you feel, take no shit, and wait for the joy. It’ll come around again.
Years ago, I worked for a battered women’s shelter. I was educated and trained to help women and children who had been victimized, and how to identify PTSD. I even coordinated a huge seminar on PTSD back then, with educators, and lectures, etc, etc. I understood that it wasn’t just veterans, that anyone who had been through an intense, traumatic experience could have PTSD. Imagine my surprise when I realized I had it, after my father passed away. I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d have nightmares, it seemed like I was living his death over and over again. I was terrified that something awful would happen to my baby boy, and I would lose him as well. There are days when I still feel that anxiety creeping over me.
All in all, it’s important to recognize that these feelings are valid, and that you understand what the cause is. Not many people are willing to discuss it. The more we talk about it, the more others will, too. Stay strong, my friend!
Feelings are never wrong. The logic behind them may be wrong and your actions because of them may be wrong, but not the emotions themselves. How can they be? No one should ever feel guilty for their feelings. And OF COURSE you have PTSD! For weeks (months?) you didn’t know if your baby girl was going to live, die, be horribly damaged, etc and you were completely helpless. That is TRAUMATIC. Your brain is coping the best it can, don’t beat yourself up for that. Just be sure you’re taking care of yourself and of your family… and tell the mole people where they can shove their ignorant opinions.
Whoa! Aunt Becky, never ever come down on yourself for your feelings. If we had control over our feelings, we would not qualify as human beings. I hope you feel better soon!
PTSD is a completely legit reaction to intense, overwhelming terror about the life of your beloved baby girl. That is traumatic as hell and anyone who says otherwise can bite my ass. I’m in the hospital with my partner right now and have been in a different hospital with a friend going through chemo, and it is bringing up all kinds of shit (that they don’t need to hear about) about past traumas. Anyone who thinks major uncertainty about the safety of a loved one is not traumatic is not enough of a human to justify my listening to their opinion.
PTSD isn’t just for Vets (thank them for all they do) and people that think that are Stewpid!! Anyways, I’m so sorry that you are going through another episode with this. I find that it comes in waves because the pain is never completely gone. I hope that the grief subsides for you. 🙂
Up until now I’ve just been lurking on your blog [Love your blog, obviously. Aunt Becky = awesome], but I wanted to pipe in and agree with all the other comments- your PTSD is totally legitimate and you have every right to feel the way you do. I’ve been fortunate enough not to suffer from PTSD myself (at least so far, excuse me for a moment while I go find some wood to knock on), but there’s no doubt in my mind that my mom had it from my traumatic birth. I know that my birthday always meant a lot of mixed emotions for her. She loved me and celebrated my life, but the memory of the time around my birth haunted her. Back then (over 30 years ago), no one talked about that kind of thing and she suffered in silence for years. Thank you for talking about it so that, hopefully, others don’t have to bear their pain alone the way she did.
Grace makes eyes weep like a crying baby pours tears of milk from our Mammas’ breasts. As a veteran of the battle ground of a teaching hospital, I also sat vigil next to a hospital bed in which my infant daughter should have died. The linen of her bed was as sacred to me as the grains of sand on Normandy Beach. In gestalt shocks of awareness, we will process what it was, and what it could have been, as we, despite sleep deprivation wipe sweet girly noses and marvel at legs that now run like the wiiiinnnnddd! Becky, I strive to embrace the tears, and profess them precious salt; the cost of healing. You are well enough to cry and witness your experience. Balance that with the music of Baby Girl’s pulse. It’s what I strive to do. Namaste.
I fucking love you Aunt Becky.
You have every right in the world to your feelings. I can’t imagine not being able to get to sleep — how do you get through the next day? Dragging, I suppose. It must be a very deep pain to blot out the whole dream… but, my guess is that it’s working its way to the surface. Our dreams do that and do it gently to not overwhelm us. There will be other signs, only you will know the significance if you trust your first thought — and little by little you’ll be able to put things together… {{{HUGS}}}
This white boy is so gonna get an afro. With pink sparklies. Dedicated to Aunt Becky.
Long time lurker here. I just wanted to throw in my support for you along with all the other wonderful commenters. Your feelings are legitimate, but I wish you didn’t have them (at least not those particular ones – I’m glad you have feelings in a general sense).
Also, you’re amazing and so is your family and so is your blog(s). I wish I could send you strength to help you through this.
My first son was born with a congenital heart defect, and he had his open heart surgery to repair the defect at 9 days. We had been thru a level two ultrasound the day before my water broke, the doctors were looking for amniotic banding (which he did not have). They didn’t look at his heart because it had four chambers and that in itself rules out 80% of heart defects. So I happily went home from that ultrasound thinking we’d dodged a bullet. Not so much…
I believe I suffered from PTSD, and most likely still do. Although, my anxiety has decreased quite a bit in the past 2 years or so (he’s nine now). I still get really worked up before his cardiology visits, but his birthdays don’t haunt me the way they used to.
Point is, my baby lived too, and the feelings you describe are real, and they are yours. You can’t measure your feelings about yourself against others…do you measure your happiness against others? You could, but that would freakin suck, right?
((HUGS)), and thank you for your awesome blog
Oh Becky. I came here to say thank you for the post you wrote the other day, about how when you were around six years old, everything changed …. your clothes, and hair, were a bit tattier. Thank you for that. I am struggling so motherfucking much right now – WITH EVERYTHING, it’s ridiculous.
And then I come here just now and read this post … and mate, you have EVERY RIGHT to feel what you feel! It was like frickin’ yesterday when Amelia was born … and all that happened for you. Must’ve been bloody horrific.
You know, you really are evolving and changing, right in front of our eyes. A certain maturity – a wisdom that only coming to terms with fucked-upness can bring. Sometimes, we don’t notice it ourselves, it takes others to point it out.
You are beautiful. Don’t forget it. XOXOX
We definitely live in a society where others are allowed to be concerned and tell us “I think you have PTSD, you should really get help” but if WE say I have PTSD, they’re all “Suck it up and get on with your life” It’s not fair, but so true. It takes courage to say, I feel this way and I don’t feel guilty for it.
Also you should read “The Murderer’s Daughters” – for some reason I just really feel like this book will speak to you.
Gee, waking up crying around the anniversary of one of the most difficult times of your life? I can’t imagine why…
Have that sparkly party, and maybe you can replace some of those memories.
Yea, that’s the thing about feelings. They cause you to feel. And then you have to deal. or not.
Hugs.
Can I just say, as a veteran, I am not in the least bit offended or put off by someone who is NOT a vet having PTSD. This is not something reserved for veterans. It is a HUMAN issue and the last time I checked, even though you have silly taste in shoes and sparkle cell cases, YOU ARE HUMAN Aunt Becky. Allow yourself to feel this. Because if not, your dreams don’t care what you allow and you’ll feel it anyway. Love and hugs to you.
So much love to you, honey – I really do get it and you really do deserve to vent as much as you need to. No disrespect to veterans, of course, but there is no trauma quite like Mama Trauma. Struggling through PPA/D and lots of other fun abbreviations has left me with my share of PTSD too. It sucks donkey balls. I wish I could give good advice, but I can only say keep sharing yourself with us, and we’ll try to be the cyber-Xanax that you are for so many.
Oh my dear Becky, PTSD has nothing in particular with war and everything to do with trauma and stress. When we lost our baby Jennifer it was far worse than anything Viet Nam ever did to me. and it was harder still on my Linda Lou. It damned near broke us. Not broke our marriage but us as people.
The fact that my loving and sneaky Linda Lou started swallowing those fertility drugs and, so brought us twins before I ever thought it possible saved us.
As for white boys with afros, I always thought they were phony, especially after I saw what one had to do to keep his curly like that. But, what do I know.
Do you realise how much you have grown?
When I started following your blob, you said you had to hire a stunt double to cry. And now you have your feelings for real. I can see how hard you hurt, and I hold you in my mind until you feel better, but I can also see you heal.
Much love, Aunt Becky,
from Maria in Sweden.
Don’t feel guilty dear aunt Becky please. You are awesome. Your girl got your genes for awesomeness.The PTSD woke up and it sucks but it will pass. I was feeling awful after the birth of my girl. You had a traumatic beginning with Amelia. Take care of yourself, be patient, and believe that it’s just a phase.
A big kiss from Spain
Pink cupcakes ROCK and so do YOU! Happy baking, and HAVE FUN!!!
Jesus. Did you really just make an argument for not deserving to have had a hard enough time to have PTSD?
My husband watched our dog get hit by a car and then drove her to the vet to put her down. He had PTSD.
I think fearing for your child’s life and well-being is enough. Really, it is. And you deserve to feel better.
Thinking of you.
Im normally a LURKER, I admit it… but I just wanted you to know that you should never apologise for how you feel – and if anyone makes you feel like you should, punch them in the nose 🙂
Also, I dont even know if my child can stack blocks period….I should probably join you in the unfit parent room.
There was a time not so long ago that I told myself, Screw “working through the pain”, and “feelings suck”, and “self awareness is a bitch”, which I actually still say, but all the rest has gotten easier. I welcome my feelings now, even though it sucks, & it’s hard, & my husband continues to diminish & invalidate them, because they’re MY feelings, I AM entitled to them, and because every feeling is an opportunity to figure out who the hell I am, independent of my past (and some present) family dysfunctions, and even more dysfunctional marriage.
Yeah it’s fun to tell feelings to suck it, but it’s more fun when you figure out the source of them.
xoxo
Not trying to be spammy, but forgot to link myself!
@mamacreates
Not trying to be spammy, but forgot to link myself!
@mamacreates
Oh hell, how did I manage to post that twice??
Oh hell, how did I manage to post that twice??
Four on February 5th. Congrats 🙂
Oh honey, I’m sorry. This too shall pass? I hope?
You are SO not alone…the anniversary of my son’s accident is the most unexplainable week, every year. And I often feel/felt guilty for saying I have/had PTSD with my healthy son, who is walking and thriving again.
But, to those nay-sayers? I say fuck you. It’s real. I feel it. It happened. And we’ve survived, god bless us.
And god bless you and that beautiful little one. She’s amazing. As are you.
You hang in there. I hope you have a good counselor or failing that some very good drugs. Or both. Big hug to you. Oh, and alcohol and chocolate.
PTSD is horse shit for mooches to get free money from the department of veteran’s affairs. Watch how many people blow up and say that this comment is offensive and wrong. If you are issued a “combat action ribbon” they automatically give you 30% disability $. How many guys in the military get issued a CAR and never even fired a rifle in anger? A shit load.