Posted by:
Raptor Jesus
(
)
Date: March 15, 2011 03:45PM
The last week of Hawaii wasn't so great for me. Yes, I was in a beautiful place, and I was with my wife. However, my adrenaline levels were off the charts. It didn't help that the people I was working with got extremely stressed out and were becoming contentious. Under normal situations, this isn't a problem and most people deal with it at work.
But when your brain is broken and your body is already shouting at you that every fucking thing you see/hear/smell is a threat - contention is absolutely unbearable. You literally have a threat in front of you while being shouted at by your body to take the motherfucker down, while you have to keep the rational side of your mind constantly aware of the fact that the person is NOT a real threat and you need to calm the FUCK down.
Unfortunately when things get bad, each part of the brain refuses to cooperate with the other parts. I came home to a weekend that I already extended with work, letting them know that I had a Doctor's appointment on Monday. I saw my therapist and he's trying to get me onto some adrenaline reducing drugs as quickly as possible. Apparently these drugs have been really successful with veterans, and studies are showing some decent evidence that if properly medicated immediately after something traumatic - that PTSD doesn't develop.
I took today off of work again, because the thought of going in was going to make me sick. I'm self medicating with some alcohol until I can get some other drugs. I realize that this is not the best response, but what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I need depressants because my body is telling me that the entire world is threatening to kill me and I either need to destroy it first, or get the fuck out-- but there is no where to run. There's only one place to run from your entire life, and as much as part of me wants that, the rest of my rational brain realizes that it would be a mistake.
I hate my life, and I hate what THEY did to me.
My therapist asked if I had told my parents yet, and I said that I was planning on it in April. He asked what I was going to say to them, and I told him that I wasn't sure.
But now I know.
I'm ready to just tell them the truth. That the church put my life in danger, they are responsible for my PTSD, and because of that, they risked my life further, my relationships, and my career. And for what?
Lies.
I haven't told my parents that I was diagnosed. But I will let them know. And if they want to argue with me, if they want to feel sad that I'm putting their "eternal family" at risk--then let god have mercy on them, because I will not pull any punches against the complete fabrication of this so called church.
This "religion" tried to kill me. Let them now stand against the sound of my fury.