Category Archives: PTSD

I Wanna Cry. Can I Cry?

Yup. Finn’s grandmother FINALLY told us that his uncle is moving in next weekend. Yup, we only got one week’s notice. One motherfucking week.

She’s known about this for months, but just now told us.

Things are fucking tense as hell. I keep finding myself on the verge of tears. I feel powerless. Unless something drastic happens between now and Saturday, we’re essentially screwed…

Five people, two bedroom house. Two kids, three adults.

I just realized last night that Z will be with his father for two weeks, starting Saturday.

Fuuuck me.

Not only do I have to deal with the asshole, I have to deal with him alone. Depending on the day, Finn typically leaves for work between 1:45pm and 2:45pm, and doesn’t get home until between 1&3 am. Alone. At night. With a man that I don’t like, barely know, and don’t trust. And, honestly, I’m fucking terrified of that man.

He’s all three of my abusive exes rolled into one misogynistic asshole. He touches me or threatens me, I swear to fucking god, I’ll be tazing him while I’m calling 911.

Oh, just fucking kill me now.

Here’s the kicker – if Z’s father finds all this out, he’ll try to take him from me. And if the judge finds Uncle’s charges, there’s a good chance I’ll lose Z. I lose my kid, and there will be hell to pay.

Does anyone think about that? No.
Does anyone but me and Finn care? Fuck no.

I am strong, because weakness is NOT A an option. But my strength is diminishing.

But I’m tired. So tired of struggling to make it through the day. So tired of being told I’m not allowed to complain. So tired of being told not to worry. So tired of not being allowed to have my own opinion.

I’m so ready to just give up. No one cares. Why should I???


Living with PTSD

Ugh, my posts have been so negative recently. Really, the only negatives right now are Finn’s uncle and grandmother. Moreso his uncle than his grandmother. His grandmother is fine, until she allows his uncle to treat me the way he does.

It’s just that my nerves are so shot when his uncle comes around. It’s like he knows every single one of my triggers. He knows he’s getting under my skin, and that’s why he continues to do it. What he isn’t aware of, however, is my PTSD. He continuously hits my trigger words and phrases. If I ever lose control, it’s a very real possibility that I will go into a flashback. Lord help him if he ever tries to touch me.


My flashbacks come in three forms: fight, flight, or collapse. Fight makes me look like a bitch, flight makes it look like they’ve won, and collapse makes me look like a drama queen. There’s no winning in a flashback. My most common response is collapse. That’s exactly what I do. I collapse into the fetal position and cry and shake until I can pull myself out of it. Then I’ll feel weak and vulnerable the next few days.

I’m currently on edge, because one of my “trigger dates” is coming up. July 5, 2004. The day the emotional and verbal abuse became physical. My (then) boyfriend and father of my oldest son grabbed me by both biceps (leaving hand shaped bruises) and bent me backward over our porch railing. In front of his entire family. He then called my parents house, and screamed into the phone “you better come get her, or I’m going to kill her!”

Six months later, on December 26, 2004, he tried to make good on his promise. He straddled me on the bed, and wrapped bath hands around my neck (again, leaving bruises). He continued to choke me until my vision started going black. To this day, I have no clue how I escaped his grasp. I only remember planting my feet on his chest and kicking him off of me. That was the day I walked out.

Of course, his family blamed me. Said I left scratches on his face and gave him a black eye. His mom was pissed that I’d left him without a phone.

PTSD sucks. You live through the initial trauma, only to have to relive it at unexpected times and places. My last flashback happened during sex. That killed sexy time real quick.

I told Finn about my PTSD when I first saw the potential of a relationship. He deserved to know what he was getting into. I told him all of my triggers, and how best to pull me out and back into this place & time.