Rantings of a Madman
Living life within oneself. Hiding, withdrawn, smiling on the outside but crying, shaking, terrified on the inside. This is living with PTSD.
We, the ones who are living alone with this secret may look fine on the outside, but oh, if only you can see inside us, inside our minds and heart deep within our spirit.
We may be able to go through the motions of life for weeks, months or even years.
People may look at us as if we are normal or just eccentric, weird or just different. But they are wrong, we are torn apart on the inside. Innocence lost as some have said.
We may be ok for a while, but the slightest thing, something that may seem tiny or insignificant to most can set us off. even if we do things right, we may fear that someone will accuse us of doing wrong.
Setting us off isn’t necessarily making us angry, or losing control, it can make us sick to the point of vomiting, it can make us want to run and hide, it can make us want to shut out the world.
The mind races, thoughts get scrambled, emotions run wild. Can’t shape a thought, can’t organize words, emotions get confused.
Try to speak but what comes out is incoherent. Try to write but what you write is not what you are thinking. Calm emotions change to confusion and become manic. Nothing makes sense.
Your clear thoughts and emotions turn to a dark violent storm. You want to run and hide, but to where? It follows you, continually whispering in your ear, laughing, mocking, twisting your thoughts, fumbling your words.
Someone help me!
I don’t know who I am anymore. What have I become? Where did I go?
Where is that person who had hopes, dreams and a future filled with life and love?
This thing called ptsd, it is like a demon hell-bent on destroying life as it laughs at and mocks its victims.
I don’t understand it, but I live it. Because of it, I haven’t lived, I merely existed. I went from one day to the next, I went through the motions imitating life, but not living it. I was in it but not a part of it. I was there physically but not emotionally. I was an empty shell, a robot.
Yes, to me ptsd is a demon hell-bent on destruction, but I won’t let it win.
The fight is back on. If it wants war, then it will get war—and it will lose!
This story is for the purpose of explaing how many people feel who are dealing with this illness. It is not the story of one man in particular but it is the story of many people put into one.
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© 2018 thomasczech