What it’s like to live with PTSD

This is a series of journal entries from June 2016.  I think it gives an immediate sense of what my life is like.

Driving home it was a glorious day, blue sky, white clouds, green trees, enough breeze to make the leaves glitter.  All I wanted to do was get home and hide.

Woke up feeling so sad.  Bright sun only makes it worse.  I think about writing my journal in the dining room at Adelynrood, at Kripalu, at Rowe, where I feel safe.

Nothing to say.  I sat here yesterday, staring, not really thinking tho I can’t call it meditation either.  I look around my house and think how long the journey has been.  Have I gotten anywhere in all this time?  Have I gained any wisdom?

Still feeling very strange.  It’s like I’m not at home anywhere.  I don’t know what to say.  The bright sun on the bright green leaves and the blue sky are too much.  I think of my friend Barbara pulling all the blinds to shut out the day.  That’s how I feel, wanting to hide, crawl into a cave.  I don’t know what’s happened to me.  Maybe I feel too exposed.  I think I felt like this back in the California days.  I tried to email Erica hoping it would help, but I haven’t finished it.

Dear Guides and Guardian spirits, I feel so strange.  Please help me.

Dear Jenny, we love you very much.  You are going through a huge transition/transformation.  The lost feelings are part of it.  Think of it as a vision quest.  You are traveling through unknown and frightening territory.  We are watching over you.  Yes, you are scared, but all is going to be well.

I look at things that need to be done and don’t have any energy or motivation.  I don’t know if this is apathy or tiredness.  “I will just sit here, staring into the wind, until a solution opens.”  I think about getting out a puzzle, or paying bills, or brushing the dog…

Thinking about trying to cook breakfast.  I feel the fear — an empty hollow in my heart.  A very low level version of “shocked heart.”  I wish someone would come and take care of me.

Feeling spacey and strange.  Being alone has suddenly gotten a hundred times harder.  I feel very lost.  I was OK when I was with Karen, and OK at the vigil last night.  It was at the Episcopal church in Littleton, for the victims of the Orlando massacre.  Different people read the names of the victims.  We sang some hymns.  Other people read poems or personal statements.

Trying to find words/”felt sense” for “not quite there.”  When I try to feel my feet on the floor, my butt on the couch, they don’t feel more connected when I put my attention there.  Usually when I’m trying to get “resourced” I feel more connected, feel myself sinking into the couch and the floor.  It also feels a little as though my head is filled with kapok.  There’s a kind of hollow in my chest, emptiness.

The quote about “staring into the wind” is from a time in 1969 when I had reached a dead end in a relationship.

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