Being Brain Dead isn’t all It’s Cracked Up to Be!

PTSD at work: I’ve basically lost 3-4 weeks here. I think I might know what’s happened, but of course I can’t be sure.

Every now and then, for whatever reason, I get brain dead –seriously.  I lose the anxiety that makes me pretty good at my job actually. I settle into this semi-cloud-like space:  I’m in the world, I do things, I get stuff done, but my edge is gone.

I’ve just had a month like that. I sat up in bed at 2 a.m. or so last night, thinking I’d missed THE monthly meeting at work last night. [I hadn’t.]

After I sent a few “OMG I’m sorry!” emails, I cried a little — because I’ve had a terrible month — typos, missing phone numbers, lousy editing, etc. and then finally went to sleep thinking that whatever the hell it is that I’d done had probably cost me my job.

Who could blame them if it had? My job is to be sharp, on top of it, accurate, precise and on time, and I’d been flubbing or nearly flubbing all of that for most of a month.

So — WHY???

I think it’s because I’m going to have breakfast with my brother Sunday morning. Yes, okay. I know, this apparently makes no sense. I know.

Say hello to the nice folks PTSD!

My family induces my PTSD quicker and I have full-blown flashbacks easier with/around them than any other group I know — even when they don’t do anything.

I’ve come up with I think a better analogy of what having PTSD is like.  Having PTSD is rather like having a faulty airbag sensor.

What you don’t know is if you go over a slight bump will set it off? If you have an accident will it work? Will go off at all? It might just go off sitting in the driveway,  or when you turn on the car, or any other “random” time. And just to make this more accurate, when you take it to your mechanic or any mechanic, by all tests and visual inspections, the thing is in perfect working order. There is no part you can actually replace.  And lastly? You can’t get out of the car either — ever.

So, there is it. Every once in a blue moon, you’ll go into a panic state. Maybe for a discernible reason, like the upcoming breakfast with my brother. But there may not be any such obvious cause.

What really pisses me off about this is that this has been ongoing for three+ weeks now. Coming back from a full-blown flashback takes me two weeks. This brain dead protective thing my brain/body/PTSD have come up with is WORSE than a flashback.

Gotta change that bucko! I sure don’t like flashbacks. Mine involves being “present” during the loss of my mother, because with PTSD you remember the trauma as if you were there, again. I go all the way back into being an abandoned three-year old internally, then pull myself back out, one step at a time, remembering and reinforcing the steps in my growth away from the loss and it being all I see/hear/feel. I compress 50 years of maturity and growth into 2 weeks.

This brain dead thing is harder, because I don’t know I’m in it until I’m in it and part of it is drifting pleasantly through life.

Like I said, it’s gotta change. My tears last night were a mixture of being sorry I’d f’d up so badly and the pain/frustration of my stupid BROKEN brain yanking my life around, again. Just because I can talk about/analyze this doesn’t make it easier. It may make it easier to fix in the long run, but it sure doesn’t make it easier to deal with.

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