Trigger warning. Just sayin’.
First, let me just say that PTSD sucks. Big hairy donkey balls. Today, it destroyed a playful moment with my kids.
I was in my bedroom, folding clothes. My daughter was doing dishes in the kitchen, which is adjacent to my bedroom. She and I had had an argument earlier, and I was feeling kinda bad about it. Now, anybody that knows me knows that when it comes to my kids, I am a hugger. I hug them a LOT. I was not hugged a lot as a child, and I didn’t want my kids to know what that felt like.
So anyway, I called my daughter in, and she sat next to me on my bed, and I hugged her. Then I started teasingly poking her, and we landed so that I was on my back and she was somewhat on half of me. Then my son runs in, yells “HUGGING!” and jumps in, landing on both of us.
We were all laughing, and I told them that since they were looming above me, I hoped they weren’t going to eat my face off or knock me out with stinky breath. In the interest of the fact that I love my kids and I’d kinda like to continue living, I will not disclose which one had the ass-breath. 😉 So then ( of course!) they proceeded to breathe exaggerated, giant breaths in my face.
All of a sudden, I flashed back to The Rapist. I could feel his hands on my throat all over again, and I couldn’t breathe. I started choking just like I did that night. I managed to convey to my kids to get off of me, and I sat up and immediately vomited. I just wanted to sit there and cry.
I hate that flashbacks happen like that… One minute, I’m having fun with my kids, and the next, I’m a puking mess. It makes me sad, angry, hopeless and frustrated all at once.