I’m Not Crazy, I Swear

6am here.

Sometimes I wake in the early hours despite exhaustion and worry about myself. During these times, sometimes I read my own PTSD in fiction articles in an attempt to remind myself that I’m not a bad person. Also I listen to “Unwell” once.

Unfortunately, in real life it’s harder to make the distinction. Frustrating to myself, and to a few friends and coworkers who know about my disorder.

Going to try to get more sleep. I need a break but I’m not getting one. Too much time off. Makes me feel like a jerk. I don’t know. Have to pull my own weight in the traces, don’t always know how. Makes me feel worse and guiltier.

At this point it’s tempting to go back to “forgetting” (or rather, denial). Treatment is triggering me. Remember how I said in part 1 of PTSD in fiction that there was a cost in integrating this stuff? That path is like trying to pay off a loan all at once. Whereas the path of non-integration is like paying smaller amounts a month on a very high interest rate, with occasional times when the monthly statement is very, so very, high.

When your budget of sanity is very tight, life is hell in the latter, and even more hellish in the former. Sigh.

Yeah, my bartender is out for two weeks. No one else can really see me or treat me right now because this all goes too deep. Though I think that’s normal even for non-PTSD cases.

Will try to sleep now. Not sure I’ll remember this post, but I think I will.