Over the last month I’ve noticed the flashbacks coming more often. There’s nothing that provokes them that I can determine. With the increased frequency, each scene becomes more vivid & even if there are variances in them, it’s always his last few hours alive that play over & over in my head.
There are so many emotions in those last hours…mine…his…the kids.
Thoughts about what he said to each child, reactions to his words to
them. “You’re making too much noise. Daddy loves you. Go to your room
& be really quiet.” Why?
Why won’t it stop? It’s driving me mad Each flashback brings sadness, worry, pain, tears, anxiety & anger.
Why? It’s been 3 years & 9 months since it happened! Why do I remember it more vividly than giving birth to our children? Why?
I have no answers. All why’s? are rhetorical. No one can answer.
I hate PTSD. I hate these flashbacks. I hate not remembering good things & just his death.
I’m struggling again
I think I need to go see the doctor. I haven’t talked to him about
PTSD since January of 2012. I should be better…I should be over the
Those last few hours…I hear his voice more now. I can see him in my
mind clearly. He wants my daddy to baptize him. He waited until the end
& now he wants to be baptized. His arm hurts, so he keeps raising it
above his head to stretch it out.
He cried. It’s the first time in 14 years I’ve seen him cry &
it’s breathtakingly pitiful. He didn’t want his mother to leave. He’s
tired & lays down to rest. Unaware of his bodily state, he urinated
in the bed. He asks me to help him move to the couch, but doesn’t tell
me he wet the bed. He was 50. That would have embarrassed him. He’s so
very tired. He says he’s going to nap & I go answer the phone. He
didn’t want me to.
“Let the damn phone ring”, he says. I explain that I must. It’s his
daughters. They’ve been calling for over an hour. They’re worried. I
need to give them an update. “Take the battery out of it Chrissy”, he
pleads. But, I couldn’t resist. I just had to answer that phone. Stupid me!! After a few minutes on the phone I hear him…he’s gurgling
Couldn’t breathe. The mass over his lungs burst. He was drowning in
his own blood. Throw phone. Scream!!! Call 911. Idiot answers. The rest
I’ve already written about before, so why rehash it?
Why remember it? Why can’t my mind rewrite the memory? I pray & God gives me peace. Jesus usually sends angles to rock me to sleep, but not tonight. I’m tormented.
I try to focus on how far God has brought us – the kids & I. We
are blessed beyond measure, so why is this happening again? Why can’t I
just hit ctrl-alt-delete & end task?
Why can’t I reboot? It’s stuck there…playing out in my head…over & over.
I’ve remarried. 3 years & 2 months after he died, I remarried.
The kids are happy & thriving. I’m happy 98% of the time & then
out of nowhere, BAM! It starts again.
Why? I’m happy now, I remind myself. I’m safe. I’m secure. I’m loved. We’re all healthy.
I thought there were suppose to be triggers…identifiable triggers so I
could avoid them. I don’t see a provocative pattern except night fall,
bed time, alone with my thoughts while my new husband snores away.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is torture. Maybe it’s provoked by an
underlying subconscious thought pattern I’m oblivious to. Maybe I’m one
of the unlucky ones.
Maybe I’m all alone with this disorder. Maybe there’s just too many ...maybes
I’ve prayed for so many of you, whether we’ve met or not. Please keep
our family in your prayers as I fight through this struggle. Please
& ask the Lord to protect the children’s minds from such torment
too. Theirs is a different scenario, but traumatic as well. They watched
me attempt to save his life in front of them. They saw their daddy’s
blood on my face as I blew into is chest in vain.
Oh Jesus, please take this from us
PTSD is an evil monster of the mind!