Memories... like the cess pool of my Mind.

I guess the worst part of having PTSD for me is how one action or event can be a trigger.  People don't understand that either.  They'll say "Why you bringing up old shit?" without really understand that something triggered me, and my body and brain are going through it like it just happened.

I thought my mom and I had reached a setpoint.  I thought that if she was careful with her words and actions, and I was with mine also, that we would keep on course.  I mean... that's exactly how it should have worked.  But last night, she fell off the happy wagon.  My friend came by, and we were in the living room talking, and my mom was playing with my dogs, and one had a toy in her mouth, and mom wanted her to let go of it.  Let me preface with saying that my dogs are trained.  By me, and not trained to do cute tricks, but trained to sit, and wait, and lie down... important shit.  Mom said "drop it!" to my dog, and I said "wrong command mom, gotta tell her 'out' and you don't have to yell at her."  Apparently that's all she needed to get going!  Don't complain about my dogs NOT being trained if you UNtrain them by giving them wrong commands all the time.

For example...

I tell people when you come in the house to ignore my dogs, if they jump on you, don't speak to them to tell them off, turn your back, cross your arms, don't look at them, and they will stop.  You can also keep moving away from them, and they'll calm down.  The purpose is to not make the door an excitement point. So what does mom do?  Walks in the house with "OFF!" when they jump on her at the door.  Yesterday we were walking them, and I explained to her 4 times that if the leash is tight, she's unintentionally giving the dog a correction for doing nothing, and when I need to correct her, she will be used to it.  I finally had to take the leash and show her, twice, what I meant.

....so back to the "drop it!" ...that's all it took for the scowling looks to begin.  She stares at me with what appears to me to be hate in her eyes when I go out sometimes, and that's what she started doing.  We were walking out the door, and my friend said "Love you mama!" and my mom just went "mm hmm" and kept watching tv.  Ruining my night before I even get to my destination.  And at the destination, a fight broke out, and I got socked in the jaw by a guy.  Totally on accident, but listen, explain that to my PTSD.  Police were called, an ambulance showed up, police were there the rest of the night, but I had good friends around me so we made it as fun as possible.

My friend decides to stay, so we get back to my house and decide to wake up my mom and give her hugs.  That was met with as evil an attitude as when I left, so I don't know what the holy fuck I was thinking.  And there I am... thinking of the attitude she gave me before I left the house, as I left the house, the guy who started a fight with a bar full of people sick of his shit and hit me in the jaw, my brother, who STILL hasn't replied to my text telling him I got hit in the face by a drunk dude, attitude from my mom when I got home, and I'm in the kitchen at 3am, 15 different kinds of in my feelings.  Barely slept last night, and still mad.

I know I can't change the way people treat me, the only thing under my control is how I react to it. But this isn't just anyone.  This isn't some stranger, this is the person who gave me life, and is SUPPOSED to love me.  I've never been in jail, and I've really never been much trouble, so I shouldn't have to ask you to do what a mother is supposed to do.  And I feel like when my mother is being out of line, I should be able to talk to her about it.  Isn't that where change begins, with a conversation?

I don't have the patience for this.  At least not today.

You almost had me at "...not putting up with your bullshit this year"

All things considered, I'm a pretty nice person.  I, like thousands of others, have plenty of reasons not to be, but I don't wear them like a badge of honor and I certainly don't use them to justify poor behaviour.  If anything, I push them down, paste on a smile, and pretend that I'm as average and bland as others.

Apparently, that made someone forget my past, and during a discussion that I decided not to participate in, they said "It's a new year and I am NOT putting up with your bullshit this year," which almost left me speechless.  Why?  Because I do a lot for this person.  I mean a fuck of a lot.  If I exited their life, it would suffer in immeasurable ways, and I don't even say that to pat myself on the back.  It's a fact.  And knowing how much I do for them, and how much I tolerate, that phrase hit me wrong.  It did, however, give me pause, and cause wheels to start turning in my head that I thought were going to do something positive for me.  I thought... fuck you.  You want to see bullshit?  Let me show you bullshit, watch the bullshit when I put some much needed distance between us!  Yeah!

Instead, I found myself outside my home, head raised triumphantly in the sky, inhaling the brisk air, tears streaming down my face, and one clear thought in my head...

This is a beautiful day to die.

I was shocked at how easy it was for me to go to that place, because it's usually a thought in the background daily, but it never gets legs.  That day, it had legs, and it was dancing.

I decided that wasn't an option, although I bet that last breath is so fucking freeing... and I decided to tell this person in my life some truths that they didn't know.  I told them that the tone in their voice when they speak to me, every time they speak to me, sounds and feels like they hate me and they always have.  I told them things that I was afraid to ever reveal to anyone, let alone a family member.  And I watched her eyes rim with tears, and realized that I had finally said something she understood.

"If I ever made you feel that way, I'm sorry."  That's what she said to me.  And I couldn't take it in, because no one ever apologizes to me for anything.  Things are done and I'm expected to accept that this person had a momentary utterance that they didn't mean and forgive them.  I still can't take it in, and maybe that's why I have a hard time healing old wounds.

Life is funny that way.

It's a Lot like Life.

Hello there.

I'm just another random person on the Internet who is going to try and figure herself out by writing and leaving it lying around for others to read or discard.  Nothing special here.

Except that I'm in my mid 40s, live with a parent, single, never married, and no children.  I'm also a survivor of childhood abuse which left me with, amongst a head full of other things, depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

I spend my days trying to figure things out.  Why I'm single, why was I abused, why I feel alone inspite of all the friends I have.  Some days, I feel like... I must have a special purpose, or I still wouldn't be here, but I just haven't found out what that is yet.  Other days, I think I'm just too chicken shit to pull the trigger and end it all.

Welcome to my unbearable brain.