Something I Don't Talk About

I have a very violent past history that I usually choose to not share, simply because I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me or see me as being "fragile." The truth is, I have no need for those things. I am a survivor with PTSD that occasionally has very brief moments of light panic attacks that will occasionally turn into full-blown panic attacks. I have a wonderful support system, and, most times, I can get control long enough to remove myself from a situation. On the rare occasion it goes full-blown, I either get my "deer in the headlights" look, or I attack. If you know me, or spend time around me, I will remind you that I've warned you, and I cannot be held responsible for attacking when I feel threatened in the midst of a panic attack. My advice: Don't do it!

Unfortunately, it's not always that simple. The 4th of July, fireworks shows, and sex in a dark room are all triggers when it comes to my rape that occurred in 2004. There is also a smell, I don't normally mention that to anyone, except for those closest to me. He smoked a certain brand of cheap cigar that has a distinct odor to it. Let me mention here that I have an unusually good sense of smell. Even the faintest scent of this particular cigar brand will set off my panic receptors. I can and will react in an unpredictable manner. Fortunately, the people I spend time with prefer more expensive cigars, so it's not an issue.


On Thursday, I took my oldest to the DMV, and, like always, there was a line snaking outside the building. I don't mind standing outside, so I talked to him as we waited, and then it assaulted my senses. A cigar, that cigar, and it was somewhere close behind me. First I said it's name, and tried to stay calm. I mean, I'm in line outside the DMV with my 6 foot tall 31 y/o son who is strong enough to fight off anyone, and there's a security guard 50 feet away. I'm safe. But the smell only got stronger. I had to turn around and look. The funny thing is that the young man smiled at me when I turned around like he knew what I was searching for. I plastered on my biggest smile, and asked (like I didn't already know) "Is that a (name?)" He smiled again, and said 'yeah'. That was enough. I told my oldest I had to get something from the car, and hid in there for 15 minutes until my heartbeat and breathing went back to normal. When I returned, my oldest was close to the door, so I told him I'd wait inside.


I feel I handled it well. My oldest was clueless, and I didn't react, but it leaves me wondering if I'll always do that well under pressure. Is this a sign of things to come, or will I act unpredictably the next time? Maybe it's best not to worry about it. I fight my PTSD daily, and I cannot change my past, but I can learn how to get a better handle on things. I just keep telling myself that the danger is gone and I'm safe. It's all I can do.

Adventures in Errand Running (3-2-15)

Introduction: For those of you not "In the know" I'll use this to explain my Household. Stitch works day shift Monday through Friday. He rides a bicycle 20 miles round-trip every day he works. Shilo works extended graves 3 nights a week. (Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday) He comes home on Wednesday mornings totally exhausted. The advantage is that his 40 hours are compacted in that time, and I'm never left alone at home for more than 2 hours on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. The disadvantage is that I usually wind up running errands alone if I have to do them on Monday or Tuesday. Such was the case today.

Setting: I was unable to take care of banking on Friday or Saturday last week, so it had to be done today. I mean, I paid the bills, but the cash was at the other bank (Chase) that Shilo uses. I also had 2 prescriptions to pick up at the pharmacy, and Donna needed food. I also had to buy groceries. Not overly stressful when you look at it, but the events were not quite that simple. (They never are)

The Plan: get as much done as possible in the shortest amount of time, driving the least amount of miles. Not an easy task... The pharmacy is 4 miles away, the nearest pet food store from my house is 4.5 miles from my house, but an additional 3 miles away from the pharmacy, and let's not even discuss the banks
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The Decision: If I drove to a shopping Center in Lakewood, I could do everything but get my prescriptions in a 2 block radius, then drive back to the pharmacy, which would be on my way home. Total time spent driving would be 45 minutes round-trip, and I could park in one spot for the banking, and pet food store Easy-peasy!

The Reality: I woke up to rain. Heavy rain. Shilo was already in bed next to me, and he was warm and inviting. Did I really have to go out? Well... I had one night's worth of seizure medication, Donna was out of her food, and the banking? Well, I was already 3 days overdue on that one. Couldn't escape any of it. The rain got harder, and Shilo was soo warm, and he was holding me in such a way that if I tried to get up and out of his hold, I'd wake him. Then there was my cat, Tsunami. He was asleep on my chest. So warm, so cozy. I laid in the cuddle pile for a few hours, enjoying every minute of it.

An overly-full bladder and the sun peeking through the clouds and the curtains finally caused me enough discomfort to get out of bed. Out of all of us, I think Tsunami was miffed the most. It was going on 2:30 by then, so I knew I had to leave, I took a quick shower and left. I also managed to leave both my shopping list and the bank instructions (how much to withdraw) at home. I knew I could wing the shopping list, but I wasn't sure how much money I needed. I had to call (and wake) Shilo for that information. Waking Shilo when he's worked the night before and has to work again in a few hours is an ugly thing. He wasn't happy about me waking him. I don't blame him at all...

How I resisted calling him again after the event at his bank was done by sheer willpower. Needless to say, I didn't call him, and the only thing I've told him about it was that I said "SHIT!!!" loudly enough to turn heads. It was horribly embarrassing, and instead of the 3 minutes I allotted at Chase, I spent 20 minutes there, mostly with a red face and a sheepish grin. There are customers who may never forget or forgive me for my outburst and the ensuing hassle I caused, but, honestly, the events (other than me yelling "SHIT!") were not my fault.

Once that was done, I deposited the money in my bank, bought food for Donna, and headed to the pharmacy, and I managed to buy most of my groceries at the store where the pharmacy is located. Oh! Did I hear you complain that I didn't tell you what happened at Chase? I will... be patient! I still had to stop at Von's for some of the groceries, but it was on the way home, and I finally got home at 5:30, nearly an hour after I had planned on getting home. Unfortunately Stitch didn't answer his phone (as usual) so I had to walk in with the first set of bags using the long way.

I had just finished bringing in the bags and putting away the groceries when Shilo got up for work. I hinted that it had been an adventure today, but I told him he'd have to wait until I posted this.

The Public Humiliation: I'm not very fond of interacting with bank tellers, and, under normal circumstances, I'd use the ATM and be on my way, but the ATM has a limit of $500 for Shilo's account. This means I has no choice but to go inside. They have these huge machines that you can withdraw any amount you want without dealing with a teller. You can even choose the denominations of the cash. I swiped my card and entered $540. A big notice flashed on the screen that I could only withdraw $200. I was confused, but I re-entered my card and PIN and entered $200 for withdrawal, figuring I could withdraw more later. The machine made all kinds of noise, and I was getting worried that there was something wrong, I mean, it was making loud noises, and nothing was happening. Finally, it let out a loud groan and it spit out $200...
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in ONES!
That's right! Two hundred one dollar bills!!! Naturally, my response was SHIT!!! I mean, I had a huge pile of bills in my hand, there were 15 people in line, and I wasn't about to stand in that line with all that money!

I saw a man at a desk in an office, and I tapped on the door. He laughed when he saw the horrified look on my face. I guess the machine started doing that in the morning with everyone. He promised me it would be getting fixed, but the damage and embarrassment had already been done.

He apologized, took the cash in the back, and I heard someone let out a hoot, and then "Jackpot!" It took an awfully long time for him to return, but I guess the money needed to be hand-counted. It was when he returned with the two $100 bills that I realized he had customers at his desk. No doubt they were silently cursing me under their breath.

I hightailed it out of the bank, stopped at the ATM and got the rest of the money, glad that nothing worse had happened.

Moral: There is none, other than expect the unexpected when you least expect it. Well, that, and don't yell expletives in a full bank with children present.

Hard Limits

I love music. All types of music. Some songs make me feel happy, or sad, or sometimes, it will bring on a memory of a long time ago, of people I haven't seen in forever, or even of friends who are long gone, and dead. It connects us to others.

It's not that way for everyone, and, because I'm unaware, innocent, and/or naive in many ways, I don't realize that my world of sweetness and happiness and flowers and rainbows and unicorns etc.etc.

When someone tells me they dislike a group or song, I do my best to respect it, but, once in a while, I want to indulge myself in a guilty pleasure, no matter who is around. It was that way Tuesday evening as I drove Shilo to work.

“Merry, I don’t like Pink Floyd” How many times have I heard that? I know I’ve said more often to him, “I hate Rush” but I go on and say “I know you love Rush, and because I Love you, I won’t complain.” Well, it just so happens that Pink Floyd was playing, and it was a song I really wanted to hear, so I told him something along the lines of “Too bad, I’m the Dominant, and I want to listen to this.” He got really pissed about it, and didn’t talk to me, and I had to ask for a kiss. I was confused by it all. I mean, it was one fucking song!

I read his diary entry about it, and it came out that he used LSD and was listening to Pink Floyd. Apparently, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’m just confused as to why he never said anything about this to me before. I’m not a mind reader. I thought we established this before, but I guess not. Anyway, after the partial explanation, I agreed to never play any Pink Floyd songs in his presence. Still I asked that he explain exactly what happened. Naturally, it’s his choice, and I won’t force him to tell me, but it is now a hard limit, and I will respect it.

Shilo, I Love you. Always

Visiting The In-Laws Part 3 (Coming Home)

Sometime after the last two entries, we all played Scrabble together. Let me tell you, I've heard stories about Shilo and his games of Scrabble with his parents, so even though I wasn't exactly inexperienced in Scrabble, I was feeling slightly intimidated by a game, so I had watched the last 10 minutes of a 2 hour game on Saturday, so I was armed and prepared.

The game consisted of much long silences, punctuated with an occasional groan, or a "You took my space" from Shilo's dad. In case I didn't mention it before, Shilo's dad is a man of very few words. He likes golfing and watching football, and he comes across as a staunch Republican. Shilo's mom was also quiet, which was a change from her previous behavior. Seeing her silent, and hearing him talk was rather nice, even if it only lasted as long as the game. At the end, Shilo's mom was the one with no tiles left, and Shilo won, 40 points ahead of me, with me coming in second.

Shilo had thought I was angry earlier, but he had also taken the time to read the other blog entries, and had finally realized that I was dealing with my own confusion. I'm happy to say that by the time we turned out the lights, Shilo and I were on very good terms.

We were up this morning at the equivalent of about 4AM PST. Neither of us was particularly bright eyed, but we quickly showered and packed. Sunshine was "out" before I finished showering, and she was excitedly talking much of the way to the airport in New Orleans. As traffic slowed into morning rush hour, she fell asleep. When we arrived at the airport, it was me who woke up. Shilo's mom was confused to say the least, but she also has a better idea of the Sunshine/me and how we are.

Anyway, there was lots of hugs and kisses and "I Love you's" exchanged, and I don't feel so sad anymore about my my own mom. I have Shilo's mom now, and she's completely different from my mom, but she has the capacity to love and accept all of me, and that makes it all the more better for me.

I was wheeled through Security and to the Gate, and we both waited for the plane. Strangely enough, Sunshine never came back. Not through the takeoff, the flight or the landing. I even napped on the plane, and I woke up as myself. I was relaxed and at ease the whole time. I held Shilo's hand at both takeoff and landing, but it wasn't my usual death grip of the past. I'm not sure what this means, if anything, but I'm looking forward to my last planned trip by airplane till April this weekend. Being home for a change will be nice.

WOW Landing!

I'm sitting at the San Antonio Airport with ShIlo by my side. We left LAX at the ungodly hour of about 6AM.  I'm pretty sure ShIlo would disagree with the time, but it's just an approximation. All I know is that while he slept in my bed last night, I was vacuuming and cleaning the house. I chose to sleep at the airport while we waited for the plane. It was a good idea, because I was tired, and feeling more than a little exhausted.

The takeoff was uneventful and I slept through it. Let me say now: Because of ShIlo, I no longer need to be medicated to fly, and I stay relaxed throughout the flight. It's nice to not have to be medicated to fly. My head is clear, and no Ativan in my system means that I can be clear-headed as soon as we land. When I woke up, I colored in the new coloring book with the new crayons he bought for my Little, Sunshine. Actually, SHE did the coloring, with me picking out the colors for her. Yes, Sunshine is a part of me, but she is a distinct personality from me, and if you met Her, you would understand. She stayed quiet and allowed ShIlo to do his work he had brought. When it was time to land, the landing was so smooth, I had to look to be sure we were actually on the ground. Now we are waiting for yet another flight, this one to Baltimore, but it is DELAYED. All I can hope is that it doesn't get cancelled. That's all for now.

Leaving

Well, not yet, but in about 20 hours. This time to Maryland. I'm looking forward to it. I wasn't always like this. Travel on a plane used to require practicing relaxation exercises and a good-sized dose of Ativan. No more! Nowadays, I have Shilo with me, and he helps me to stay relaxed enough to handle any flight.  He knows how to help me find my "Happy place" and I stay calm till we are in the air. Then, as we're landing, he does it again, and again, I manage to do fine till we are getting off the plane.

My fear of flying has nothing to do with my acrophobia.  No, once I'm in the air on a plane I'm fine. It's the takeoffs and landings. The rumbling, shaking and noise frightens me. I'm just kind of strange that way. Put me on the top of an 8 foot ladder and I'm petrified. Put me in an airplane at 5000 feet and I'm a happy camper. Put me anyplace with Shilo by my side, and I can conquer the world.

This is just another reason why I Love him.