Well, this post isn’t going to magically write itself. But I will keep it very short.
In discussing with my current bartender ((Psychologist. I call them bartenders because you talk to them. I call my psychiatrist the candy man because he prescribes the good drugs.)) my past encounters with previous bartenders, I realized that I have a very simple goal, which is somewhat less than previous attempts to achieve the apex of the Maslow pyramid with me.
I just want the pain to stop, I told him. Which he correctly interpreted to mean stopping the interruption of thought process and triggering and partial/full flashbacks that I keep having.
While it is apparently the case that many PTSD sufferers also share the same feeling of lack of a future and not wanting to be involved in relationships or ever raising a family, I think trying to thrust upon me optimistic thinking and encouraging dating and thinking about romance would be a very bad idea right now, given that I feel about zero comfort in the presence of other people as long as the PTSD stays around.
Of course, my previous bartender apparently got tired of treating the very boring aspects of PTSD (and trust me, PTSD’s rather predictable trough is very boring as a day to day routine) and tried to fast-forward to the “you are healed now!” phase, which was not, so to speak, the best option in the world.
Thing is, I was abused for over 20 years, starting from childhood; my very first memory that I can actually recall is of physical abuse; and despite the fact that I have a core of iron at the center of my soul to have escaped from all that crap in the first place, you’d think it would be a given conclusion that I’m not going to get over my PTSD in three months (the minimum) or even three years.
I don’t know what the endurance of my current bartender is. I’m more optimistic given that he actually works at the same hospital as my candy man, rather than completely freelancing. But it could still suck in the end.
Anyways, I’m seeing him weekly, which costs money, but I figure it’s better than one night actually visiting the local drugstore and coming home with a bottle of OTC sleeping pills and some cheap white wine.