My PTSD Trigger of a Week


There are times I wish that I was blessed with the ability that others seem to have and use with such ease, the ability for my brain to switch off and go into shut down mode.

Among many other things I have had the fucked up fairy of post-traumatic stress wave its magic wand and give me its wonderfully fucked up gift.

Any number of things even non related to any traumatic event that I have somehow survived this far through can trigger off this great present I have with PTSD with no warning just like a slap to the face with a wet fish hello flash backs and welcome back post-traumatic stress.

No matter how hard I try to fight it, no matter how I try to deal with it, the reality of it is, there is nothing I can do to make it go away, no magic pill that will make the emotions that are dragged up from fuck only knows where, disappear.

Like many people who have PTSD and flash backs, the only way I can describe how it is or what it feels like is as though I know I am in the now time, yet my life is rewound to then, to whenever it is that I relive, as I watch it like a movie playing in my mind.

But there is no stop button for any remote control to turn it off, there is no fucking remote control, sitting there in a daze as your mind takes total control and you feel like in reality there you are back in that moment in time that those demons hide.

Although this week I do know the trigger for this shit that’s reoccurring, the trigger has been that on two consecutive days my eldest son turned 14 with the following day my youngest daughter turned 8.

The relationship between myself and my eldest son is one that is a bond like no other, he is my strength, he is my baby boy who is now turning into this teenager with a deep voice, and a razor to shave his once soft face. He is growing up, and now that friend he had that was  a girl is his girlfriend who he holds hands with makes out with, (although answer’s no to this one, dear god mum how fucking shameful to ask me that kind of thing.)

I miss him with all that I have inside of me, as I continue to live life, each day in the now, live alongside the reason we are apart, and continue to fight to get him home, (long story short, due to domestic violence, his father being a total psychopath alcoholic who tried to kill me, and was heading after my children next, I took the  advice of the women’s domestic violence joint, as I had no choice but to leave him with my  parents to keep him safe and then put distance between us, as his father continued to look for me assuming that when he found me he would find him.  Hence my reason for the never assume rule, my ex’s assumption after 10 years would still be wrong).

Whenever I talk to my baby, hear his voice, I choke on the lump in my throat, he asks how I am I tell him good, he knows I am somehow full of shit, I ask how he is he says good, again I know he is full of shit, but he is doing what I am doing as we attempt to live some form of normality in the now.

He knows the whole story as he lived through it with his father, he knows what beer does to people and he knows that beer turned mum into dads punching or kick boxing bag, he knows why he is with Nana  and he knows how to keep himself as safe as possible when doing things, especially on-line in case his father would find him or one of his dead beat dads found him.

Still to this day I change my mobile number regularly, due to the constant and sometimes not realising that I am looking over my shoulder, to see who may be behind me waiting, or watching.

So there was trigger number one, the following day was trigger two, different father to my son but one that was just as bad only not physically he used the mental torture to get to me and he used my youngest daughter when after 6 years he failed to return her from a regular weekend visit.

Horrified as my stomach leapt into my throat when I received a two-line email from him to inform me she wouldn’t be coming home, the nightmare began to try to get recovery orders the endless paper work for family court as he had broken an order, the desperate calls to school because he had taken her out of her education (which is against the law) yet nobody could do a thing.

Twice daily having the local police check on her safety, screaming at them he had been hospitalised twice for attempting to overdose, trying to get it through to them and child protection he was a drug user and a prescription drug abuser.

Pointing out that she was in an environment that was not in her best interest nor her safety yet his stupid name on her birth certificate meant he had the right to do what he was doing regardless of his doubts that she was his child (because her resemblance to my eldest son is ironic).

Leaving the coast and moving to the country, meant I knew I was also closing the door to her, I had no choice, she had told the police the lawyers and school she wanted to live where she was, she had told me and she had told her big brother who is still horrified.

I had made the hardest decision to let her do what she had so desperately and admittedly wanted, and live with her alleged father, and have no contact with her.

The no contact with her, makes it somehow more bearable than hearing this person who is supposed to be part of me act so selfishly and be so cold, to not care at all about her youngest brother, as she lives her life.

This is the child I know will come back to haunt me to blame me for all that went wrong in her life, this is the kid who will do drugs, self-harm and blame it all on her mother, yet as I flash forward knowing this, I still remember sitting every day and every night in the special care nursery watching her as she struggled to breath and was fed with a tube because she was born at 26 weeks.

I remember the first time they let me touch her tiny hand, and the first time I could hold her, as I looked at this tiny baby and wondered how she would ever live outside that humidity crib.

6 or more weeks were spent after I got discharged from hospital on trips back and forth to feed her, to bathe her twice a week, which was Tuesdays and Thursdays because bathing preemies is a whole different ball game than when you carry to term.

I had felt as though I had failed, her being born so early with no reason, just the onset of labour, an emergency C Section, with my helpless baby put into a container that was man-made to be as close to being in utero as possible.

Hence why I find myself here awake and writing this out there hoping to push enter as my words and the way I feel goes out there into the abyss of Google and the feeling of being so helpless somehow fades.

About Angel O'Fire

New Zealand born, this kiwi chick took flight to live in the great land down under in Queensland Australia in 1988. I am clumsy at times not known for my tact and or grace, straight to the point, and somewhat impatient, I have come to accept that what is in this life simply is. Far from religious, I do not believe in a divine god per say that will come down and save the world, although I accept each to their own when it comes to their views and beliefs of what religion is or should be. I consider myself to be my own worst critic as I tend to strive for best, and have a tendency to push myself physically and emotionally beyond my limits. Still naive at times, still hoping to see the good rather than the bad in people, this has not been one of the qualities that I can say I am fond of, as it has come to burn me time after time over the years. I am a strong believer in Karma, as I do believe in what we put out is what we do get in return, good bad or indifferent. With a tendency to stand my ground when it comes to opinions, as we all have one, there is no right nor wrong, it is a perspective, a view point on how we view a subject. Zero tolerance for others who are self-riotous, I have no interest in people who claim to have never done any wrong in their lives, and who judge others, prior to walking in those they cast judgement upon’s shoes. I am just your average girl who is trying to make my way through life as it is. I am a mother, lover, friend, partner, co-worker, manager, coach, and referee, a Jill of all trades. A firm believer that ‘ignorance is not bliss’ nor is ‘ignorance’ and excuse to be an arsehole in the world we live in today, those who continue to use the ‘ignorance is bliss’ rule are plainly arrogant and uneducated. I love the water, beach surf and sand, the water is where I seem to find myself when I need to take 5 mins out of life's hectic cycle. I figure that each to their own, as it takes all kinds of people to make the world go round. I believe that life is not learnt out of a text book, and often wonder why we teach our lessons from one to our growing generations. Although I can be a surprising wealth of knowledge I find it amazing how a person can actually no so much about nothing, yet be a master of the topic. I am that girl who cuts her jeans into shorts because she got hot, am not one to enjoy shopping, in fact I hate the entire nightmare of going shopping and it has me fkd how so many chicks say 'lets make a day of it' and love bouncing from shop to shop looking at things that are well pointless. All in all that is me so hello world I'm Angel.
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4 Responses to My PTSD Trigger of a Week

  1. Lisa Neumann says:

    I love that your, “feeling of being so helpless somehow fades.” Earth, so temporal, this will all be a memory. We all did the best we could at the time we did it. Forgive and move on. The simplest, yet hardest, of solutions. L

  2. Angel O'Fire says:

    Thanks Lisa, and your so very right we have to find some way of forgiving in order to move on, to get through the hard part’s and find some form of balance where we feel we can begin again……life can be a bitch……I am guessing the secret is to be a bigger bitch in order to beat it…….you fall down, you get back up, sometimes you may need a band aid to cover the graze and to help it to heal, but it does heal……..its up to you weather you are going to pick at the scab and make it leave a scare, or if you are going to let it heal naturally………..((hugs))

  3. Eagle Wings says:

    As much as all that you have dealt with over years , concerning your older boy and your younger girl , Is upsetting and so so wrong ,(As it was me whom took the father roll ,for her, and did my best to help bring her up with morals)

    It Upsets me to not only know but also feel to emptiness that affects you because of this outcome .. It’s Hard to know what to say or what to do to help comfort you , especially at this time of year.

    As many may share similar types of situations . No one but you has had to live it , And I have lived it along side of you , Trying to support you, without showing the anger towards the ones responsible for such a situation .

    Never forget I will always be here for you , When you need a cuddle an ear or someone who understands it as I have lived this with you ..

    When ever I read something you write about this , It not only hurts to know you are hurting more again , It angers me to know Others are responsible for this.

    It also hurts and angers me to be thought of as one of those responsible . As I have been mistaken as your ex ,by uneducated narrow minded individuals that only seem to take bits of what you write ,And add it to their fantasy to give themselves some kind of misinterpreted upper hand over their own vision of the real world.

    Never the less we are who we are , we deal with things our way , And Remember I’m always here for us baby .

    Love always your Eagle

  4. Scottie says:

    OH my Gods Angel…I can’t even begin to understand how you feel..I am so sorry for the things that have happened to you and your children. All I can say is while I don’t know about ptsd, I know flash backs can be more than a “bitch”. I have had flash backs at home that have left me curled up into a ball crying..I have had them at work leaving me unable to think or function…when I started being sexually assaulted at work ( management went all out to fix that ) I almost crawled into my self.

    As for your children, I have no clue how devastating such a situation can be..except to say I can see your pain. While not on the same plane in any way, I can say I have found having a son to be exciting, scary, full of tears, smiles, laughs, and angers… My son has been both a point of worry for me…he texts me when I am already in bed to tell me if he is going to be late, or when he goes out or when he is home..I would rather he wake me up than worry about him all night..yet those who don’t have children wont understand…yet today our son is upset, not at us, but because one of his friends stole from us..we did not blame him..but he blames him self…and it hurts to see him understand that even his friends will not always be true.

    I wish I had words or even more to help the hurt that has been done to you. Sadly I have none. I can only offer you my best wishes and many loving hugs

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