The 4th of July for me is a nightmare. While everyone is out blowing shit up, having cookouts and in general having a grand ol time I am locked in my house fighting off flash backs and anxiety attacks. PTSD and fireworks don't mix.....nope not at all.
I remember as a kid enjoying the hell out of going to the beach every year with my family and all the cousins and watching the fireworks shows. I remember the fun of it all and all the ooohs and aaahs of the big event. Now I find myself being caught off guard by random firecrackers and what not and involuntary spine chilling jerks of the body. Things are getting better though. I no longer dive for cover....at least not as often anyway.
After years of turning down invitations to 4th festivities the invitations finally stop coming in. It's a good thing too cause I finally ran out of good excuses why I couldn't be there for the party. Having to explain why I was laying in the dirt or under the house would have just been a bit too awkward you understand. One can only explain away the deer in the headlight look and the nervous twitch so many times. God forbid a scream should slip past these lips and frighten the other guests.
How could I have done such a thing. That poor 10 year old girl who thought it would be funny to sneak up and scare poor old uncle Steve. The look on her face as I turned around in an defensive posture with the look of murder on my face. I didn't even see her till it was too late. She never trusted me again. Like a light switch my mind had gone back to that place and just as quickly it was back again. My heart in my throat and the girl I loved so much in front of me with a look of total fear on her face. A fear she had never felt before and one I hope she never has to feel again. For those of you who like to automatically assume the worst, no I didn't hit her. Never laid a hand on her. The look of fear on her face came from seeing someone she loved at trusted turn so quickly into an animal that she didn't recognize.
Yeah....PTSD and fireworks don't mix......not at all.
I remember as a kid enjoying the hell out of going to the beach every year with my family and all the cousins and watching the fireworks shows. I remember the fun of it all and all the ooohs and aaahs of the big event. Now I find myself being caught off guard by random firecrackers and what not and involuntary spine chilling jerks of the body. Things are getting better though. I no longer dive for cover....at least not as often anyway.
After years of turning down invitations to 4th festivities the invitations finally stop coming in. It's a good thing too cause I finally ran out of good excuses why I couldn't be there for the party. Having to explain why I was laying in the dirt or under the house would have just been a bit too awkward you understand. One can only explain away the deer in the headlight look and the nervous twitch so many times. God forbid a scream should slip past these lips and frighten the other guests.
How could I have done such a thing. That poor 10 year old girl who thought it would be funny to sneak up and scare poor old uncle Steve. The look on her face as I turned around in an defensive posture with the look of murder on my face. I didn't even see her till it was too late. She never trusted me again. Like a light switch my mind had gone back to that place and just as quickly it was back again. My heart in my throat and the girl I loved so much in front of me with a look of total fear on her face. A fear she had never felt before and one I hope she never has to feel again. For those of you who like to automatically assume the worst, no I didn't hit her. Never laid a hand on her. The look of fear on her face came from seeing someone she loved at trusted turn so quickly into an animal that she didn't recognize.
Yeah....PTSD and fireworks don't mix......not at all.
Yeah PTSD and fireworks definitely don't mix. I'm sorry you have to go through that. And stupid people don't even just light them on the 4th they do it all week long (in the middle of the day...wtf). I like the pretty colors but I don't like the big booms.
In an unrelated note, I just realized steveanaco Thinks minibar sentences are Ultra Gay...