ptsd
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; The storm after the storm.
PTSD
By definition, PTSD is a mental health problem that some people develop after experiencing or witnessing a shocking, terrifying, or dangerous event. For the most part and what society is used to hearing is that PTSD is associated with the military. A vast majority of veterans have come home with this disorder, many have gone undiagnosed, homeless, and having to face the ramifications of PTSD on their own. Holidays such as the 4th of July have an aching affect on veterans, homeless or not, due to the loud bangs of firework celebrations. Loud sounds such as fireworks when heard by vets with PTSD will mentally send them for cover, as thought the loud sounds takes them back to when they were in battle; the load sounds from gun fire and missiles are what vets are feeling rather than logically knowing at the time they are hearing fireworks.
Kate AdamsPublished 7 years ago in PsycheWhat My Flashbacks Feel Like...
Like most people, whilst cleaning I get lost in thought. Perhaps unlike most other people, however, one thought is always attached to another. My mind is comparable to a tangled ball of yarn. It's impossible for me to pull one thread loose without tugging out another one along with it.
Christina WoodcockPublished 7 years ago in PsycheI Failed My Own Assassination Attempt
The day I tried to kill myself was the last of three days living in complete hell unlike any I’d ever known. I’d spent three days in a dissociated state, floating through my day with zombie eyes and a catatonic stride. I was barely able to function. I’d walk into the bathroom and wonder why I was there. I’d stare at the eggs cooking in my frying pan and wonder what I was supposed to do with them. I’d look at the sender of a text message and wonder, Who the hell is Momma Dukes?
Regina LongwellPublished 7 years ago in PsycheThe Hole
I was there against my will, and I knew it was the place that I needed to be. See, I asked for help and protection from myself. I didn't trust myself anymore because I had a plan, a workable plan, and I intended to put that plan into motion three days ago. My plan consisted of a wooded area, a hose, a car exhaust and a sunny final day of my life.
Rachael MerrickPublished 7 years ago in PsycheRiptide
Escapism is a beautiful place for a while, it feels almost painless. It feels okay because you can breathe without that pounding in your chest, or that hole in your stomach that looks like the milky way but feels more like a tornado. It speaks so softly I can’t hear the words, but I feel the doubt of everything. I wake up in the morning and I feel it, until I can find a way to ignore it. No matter how I try it’s always there, like that sound of chalk on a chalkboard; only I am the chalkboard. I try to think of or create beautiful places in hopes that someone might understand, perhaps someone will find peace knowing that someone feels the same way. But my escapism is a dream with a beautiful beginning that ends in a nightmare. People wonder how that feels, that is people who have never been there. The only way that I can describe it, is like this
Jordan Sophia ThomasPublished 7 years ago in Psyche