I’m sitting here this morning with scattered thoughts. Thanksgiving has just passed and the street is already alive with Christmas at night. It’s beautiful. But I’m unable to really focus on anything other than cooking. Silliness but it’s my way of coping.
As I try and form some coherent thoughts about Chris and I and dealing with PTSD my mind goes to the hospital where my Father-in-law has been for the past three weeks. Three weeks of needles and meds and machines and the doctors have asked for a decision. I already know what the choice is, what it has to be, but even with the prognosis it’s not any easier for anyone involved. Especially Chris.
His depression is palatable in the house and none of my old cures have helped. This is hard to accept for me. In our years together everything has revolved around PTSD and dealing with it. We’ve not had a major family crisis like this ever and suddenly I’m floundering around in strange waters.
I’m afraid. I know the stages of grief are difficult and can cause PTSD themselves. So what does that mean? I’m at a loss here but hoping I can find something meaningful out of this to help others. So far I don’t think there is anything different than what I would have done had Chris not had PTSD.
Our wedding anniversary is in two days. Two years married. In those two years I’d focused on creating our cocoon. I’d become absolutely confident in my actions, secure I’d done my research and knew what was best when it came to helping Chris live a normal life. Now I’m questioning every move I make. I’m just not prepared for this. I've lost my ability to save the day.
They’ll be coming to revoke my superhero status next week.
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