Demons Of The Past

Sometimes life happens. I work on an entry and life gets in the way and it doesn’t get done. Then another idea pops up and I go with that one. And that one doesn’t get done for the same reason. Sometimes there are two or three unpublished entries between published ones. Right now I several I would like to finish and probably just as many that should just be deleted because they’re old and probably not relevant anymore. I am usually not able to re-visit these entries because life will throw at me more interesting, relevant ones. But life is unpredictable and I felt that this one, started over a year ago, needed to be shared today.

***

The day seems to be a typical one, just another day in a string of days, walking down a street you walk down daily.  Your body starts to tense and you attempt a deep breath but your chest feels tight.  You attempt another breath and you are suddenly aware of the sirens.  The sound is far, so far that none of the cars in the street are stopping or making an effort to pull over.  So far that no one around you seems to even hear it.


Another breath and this time you force the air through trying to desperately un-tense your muscles, trying to get your heart to slow down.  But the sound gets louder and you know it’s a fire truck though you can’t see it.  Everything begins to blur and you instinctively reach out.  But your baby isn’t there.  You want to hold him close, tightly, and protect him.  You curse the fact that he is in school, miles and miles away from you, with people who have no idea how to properly protect him.  Only you can, in your arms tightly.  There is a lump in your throat and the next breath is harder to make, you smell the fire and feel the thickness in the air.  You try another breath but feel suffocated by the people around you.  You try again but the sound of the sirens around you feels deafening and the sounds of screaming and chaos loud bangs that make the ground shake make it difficult to breathe.

And you’re there again.

Running with the herds of panicking people away from the sounds of explosions, running away from the cars flying up in the air and straight into a building in flames.  The fear and echoing of the voices in the hallway seem so loud you can hear them through the sirens ringing in your ears.  You can’t breath, you are consumed in fear.  You want someone to rescue you, your mother to hold you close and tell you everything will be alright.  The heat is intense and you fear the building burning up with you in it and you want to get out.  But out is loud booms and flying cars and herds of people running.

And you’re there again.  Outside and running with the herds of panicked people.  Back in with the burning heat.  And outside again.  Inside again.  Many times over and over.  And suddenly you realize it’s all wrong, you didn’t go from a running herd into a burning building.  They were two separate events.  In two different countries.  About 10 days apart.  Over 20 years ago.  Neither event was in the city or streets you are currently in.

Both events have been cleaned up, not a trace of either one.  The streets that were uprooted were fixed.  The building that burned down was cleaned up and a Jack in the Box put in it’s place.  Everything is ok now.

You force a breath in and as the next set of tears roll out of your eyes you notice the half wall separating the side walk from a parking lot.  You stop and sit on it.  You wipe away the tears from your face with your shaking hands and for the first time notice the breeze.  And the sirens are gone.  You look around and realize where you are.  You are not lost but this is not where you are supposed to be.  Someone comes up to you and asks if you’re ok.  You force another breath in and reach for a piece of gum.  You tell the concerned stranger that you are fine and that your sugar just dropped as you pop the gum into your mouth.  They say ok and keep walking and you’re glad they bought your story, glad they’re not a diabetic or a trained nurse or someone else that would have known that a drop in glucose will not result in breathlessness and tears and will not be helped with sugar free gum.  Because your glucose levels are just fine.

Your baby is safe, you know where he is and who he is with.  You need to get home.

You pull out your mp3 player, put on the headphones, and chose a song that will make you feel better.  You take a deep breath, finally being able to do so with little resistance.  The realization that you have walked almost a mile and have no recollection of it is frightening.  You wonder if you stopped at red lights, if cars honked at you.  And you wonder why your feet brought you to this spot, what was guiding them when your brain was in another time and place.  You wonder what kind of random neuron misfires led here.

You wipe away the remaining drying tears to clear your vision and look straight in front of you as you get up. And realize that those neurons might not have been so random. Realize that these events, so long ago, are holding you hostage and controlling you without your consent.

This is living with PTSD.

This is where I ended up during this episode.  On the left is where I sat and in front of me a Jack in the Box.

This is just one specific episode I experienced.  Not every episode is similar (though this kind is common) and the memories and thought process isn't always the same.  The events my mind goes back to were drawn out and, depending on the trigger, what my mind chooses to cling to and how to react can be very different.  This is why I sometimes seem overprotective of Nicholas and why I do like having him with me.  It is actually safer and better for me because he will bring me out of it quite quickly (I hold him tightly, he will protest, the "struggle" will bring me back).

If you are interested in knowing more about the events, here are the links to their Wikipeadia pages:
First Event
Second Event