I have 10 minutes before I’m heading out the door to have dinner with Meg, Ellen, and Marissa.
Here is what you’ve missed:
My therapist asked me to take a test while in my last session. Basically, we’ve concluded that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and it’s our number one goal to help me alleviate some of the symptoms (as they are my biggest struggle). The random aggression and anger really pisses me off, so I’d like to shut that down first. We’ll see.
It doesn’t bother me that this is the diagnosis I’ve received. I think some people assume it just means that you’re not strong enough to deal with traumatic events, so I’ll just assume that those people haven’t had their heads bashed against a wall, and I’ll say they’re pussies. Makes sense, right? Nope. It doesn’t. And that’s okay, because the next few posts are going to focus on my diagnosis, the events that led to this diagnosis, and my treatment, so maybe it will be better for the pussies to understand. 😉
I’ll tell you little things I haven’t, like how I randomly forget why I’m going somewhere after I’ve already left. Or how a complete stranger winking at me will put me into a fit of rage that doesn’t stop until I can sleep. I’ll tell you how my hands sweat when I’m surrounded by men that are taller than me. And, finally, I’ll unleash the rest of the bullshit about Ike that I haven’t.
It’s about to get dark. Funny, if you remember a few months ago, I said I wanted to start a second blog that only focused on the anger and the memories. Welp, it doesn’t look like I need to do that. My life is coming full-circle. I’ve eliminated enough current drama to fix the deep cracks in the foundation. My brain is ready for a little TLC.
I think it’s time to give it that gift.
Oh, and this only took me 8 minutes to write. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.