Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder or Clinical depression. Do people know what these illnesses mean? Do they know that it is more than a fancy title? That the disease, the illness, it is real even if you do not see it.
Both PTSD and Depression affects the way a person feels about themself. PTSD also plays a significant role in how we interact with the world around us. While I go about my shopoing or any other business, you would not be aware the of the internal demons that I face.
Because of mmy PTSD and Depression my thoughts are constantly being seen through the filter that these dieases bring with them. In the run of an hour my thiughts go something like this:
- I am so tired, I can not possibly get my body out of bed
- K, I am up. I am just going to sit (aka lay)/on my kids bed while I pretend to be doing something of importance in their room.
- Ok, and it is time to go. Maybe I will call a friend today. Nah, she is better off when I am not there. It is obvious.
- WTF, what?!?! I got to go with you because I need the car, fuck me.
- I MUST stay awake,my eyes are closing
- I am such a disaster, I can’t even fuckin drive 10 minutes without stopping
- I need a coffee ,(X 10 really)
- Kods are gone….xan I nap?
- I should call a friend. No, no, if they wanted to see me they would call friends must hate me.
- I wonder if my husband thinks about leaving
- I want to just die….but not really. Like just for a month or so
- I kust wasted my entire break. I must get the kids. I dont want to get then. I lobe them but HATE homework. The struggle is reK and is only intensified by hee personality
- BEEP!!!!! Fuck dude can’t you see I am having a shit day!!??
- BEEP!!!! Stupid fuckin driver cut me off
- Oh God, please, please, please help me (/o sa this with no real meaning, I am an Atheist. Buy seiously, I meed help. I dont want to spend one more minutebwith my kids. I pawn them off. A nwighbour, a friend, their father. I want tonfuckin sleep
- I fucked up my kids. Look at at those little angles in the back seat. Oh no, no,not angles. Devils in disguise. I think “shut the fuck up” about 1 million times during the drive home.
- Ooooh, pleasantries again. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Please stop talking to me. You remind me of him,therefore you are him (in my mind only of course),but my heart is racing, my palms are sweaty amd it takes all that I have not to cry. I go ugly cry in my car.
- Sure, eat KD again cause i just don’t care