PTSD

Waking at 2AM unable to go back to sleep. Memories prickled my fight or flight response. Taking a sleep medication that late was better than staying up the rest of the night.

This anxiety is more than usual. Contact with brothers makes me worry about them remembering all the tragic happenings, some mine, mostly theirs. How does one keep cordial but with boundaries? Dam if I know.

And friends I thought to be friends couldn’t bother to inquire about me during a severe illness. The desperate loneliness during this past illness brought on despair and feelings of failure as a mother, wife, friend and origin family member, failure as human being.

Failure that if my relationships were worthwhile than there would be interaction and since there wasn’t it’s my fault. My inability to trust? To connect? To be a good friend?

Winter is difficult for me. Depressive thoughts bury hope and kill self-esteem. Giving in to brothers who want this group thing has made me small stealing my peace.

No need for Tom to do it as it has become a thing with this group. Tom’s decades of tearing me down has infected all of them.

Shane calls this morning. Act happy covering my feelings, or tell the truth? Asking which he wanted, the truth or not, he says truth because he can always tell by my voice anyway.

What a man. So smart, rational, and possessing deep compassion. And one person I know who loves me and will be there to the end. Samuel and Shane were two people seeing me through this last difficult period.