Certain noises are bound to startle; have PTSD and a lot of such sounds in quick succession you'll end up balanced on flight-fight for future noises. The first nasty was a five foot drop of a nail varnish bottle onto a varnished wooden floor. The rest were dice that missed the table and hit the same surface. In the end we rolled the dice (five at a time) into a box so they wouldn't shoot away except of course a couple did.
Articles from Harrangue Man
The ever boil had ballooned and it was popped; lanced with a needle and squeeeeeezed. I felt every e.We had to pause for a breather then we went again, the tissue wad blossomed with boil gunk.Agonising. So it's hot water bottle time and pain meds. The site is quivering in aftershock.The inner thigh boil; it just keeps on giving.
One of the chickens tried to eat me. She jumped up and bit my right middle knuckle, I presume because she thinks I am part food. There are animals who can be partially food such as lizards tuat can drop their tail but I am not like that. Unless they're into hair and nails then there's nothing else I consider they could have from my person.If I pass out in the pen then I shudder to think what will be gotten to while I lie defenceless.
I don't tap online ads save by accident and thanks to PTSD and meds for PTSD my fingers flick open of their own accord. Or stab downwards when surfing with a tablet.Because I've tapped on that ad twice I now see it populated across other sites in addition to the site I was reading.They objectively look like nice clothes though as a potato man they'd be no good on me. They're for long slender gals.My PTSD also likes short shorts; it has eclectic taste.
In almost every tragedy there are moments of hope, that a lesson may get learned from it such as in the Pittsburgh shooting in the reaction of the community affected.Human caused tragedy oft means a counter force so strong it defies motion.
She fell off a shelf and onto the dirty floor, brushed from her perch by a passer-by. Even though bending is a hassle I bent and got her then put her back.It mattered fuck all in the scheme of things but it mattered to me that toy mermaid plushie could get wrecked and that whoever got her would be sad at the grime on her body.I pay a cost to bend; it hurts to do it. But if not me then who?That's why.
Once you've been in the adult world a while the age differences vanish; you can be in your forties and have friends in your thirties even though at school you were just leaving as they were still in kindy.Time is unkind to us all.
It wasn't an actual hole, like, in the dirt or anything. It's just that the foam mattress I'd used since I was probably ten had compressed with my more solid form and created a hole. Not through the mattress but a depression that was noticeably foetal short man shaped, I pointed this out a number of times; the (w)hole situation.
The other day I was in a fear cake; caked in fear. It was like I was baked into it and I could not move it was that paralyzing. I had to go through a long list of titles to make sure something was not there.
I had a psych visit where I was angry and I cried. When we got home I crawled into bed and slept the grief off. I felt better for it. It was better than being awake and fixating on what was said. Hooray for a shut down reboot; sometimes you really do have to turn it off and on again.