Bittersweet in Safety Net

It’s nearly 2 AM and I’m still wide awake. I blame Starbucks. ;-) I ordered a smoked butterscotch Frappuccino this afternoon and ended up with a smoked butterscotch latte. When I said something, I ended up with two large espresso drinks. I wouldn’t have complained. They were super busy and mistakes happen, but Frappuccinos cost a lot more than lattes. Turns out I liked the latte better.

Today we sold my brother’s van. It’s nice to have it done. We don’t have to deal with it anymore and the money will be nice. We can finally get him a headstone after a year and a half. But as I was sitting in my car watching my mom and the buyer fill out the title transfer, I felt really sad. I know it’s silly. It’s just a car after all. But it felt like I was losing part of him all over again.

I haven’t mentioned this before. I’ve been a little scared to I guess. It’s my journal, I should be able to post what I want without fear of judgment, and yet that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. The only person I’ve said anything to about this is my mom, and I only told her because I know she’s in the same boat. Now that I have you completely confused, here we go: I have PTSD. I absolutely hate myself for it to. Everyone assumes that it’s something only soldiers deal with, or people who witness truly violent events. I always did. I have a cousin who served in Iraq and later in a military hospital stateside. He has seen some truly horrifying things and will never be the same. So when someone first used the diagnosis of PTSD with me (and later my mon), I felt completely ashamed. I’m getting more used to the idea and starting to realize that it makes sense, but I still feel weak. Yes, I lost a lot of close family members in a year’s time (6 to be exact). Yes, I happened to be in the room, bedside for three of them. But none of them were particularly violent. My brother was definitely the triggering event though if I had to pick a single one. I’ve gotten better over time, but the memories still attack out of nowhere. And they don’t even have to be related to what I’m doing. I can be filling the beer cooler at work and instead of remembering the time we toured a brewery or the first time he tried be or something, I remember a game we used to play when we were little. Then there are the nightmares. I don’t wake up screaming, “I didn’t kill you” anymore in the middle of the night, but I still have the dreams. And I’m still not anywhere close to being able to process the other five deaths from last year. I just shut down after my brother and I haven’t been able to figure out how to start up again.

I started a new job Friday. I’ll finally have health insurance again. My last day at the gas station isn’t for another week, but it’s coming. I don’t know if I’ll try to find a therapist once my insurance kicks in or not. I really don’t feel like talking about this with anyone, but I can’t take any of the few medications that are out there for this thanks to my migraine meds.