My friend told me to write them down so that I could look at them and realize how ridiculous they are. Okay, maybe they are a bit silly, but they replay in my head when I’m tired or alone or walking in the woods.
Saturday night I woke up in the middle of the night. His dog was curled up against my feet and I reached over to touch him and he was facing the other way, as far from me in the bed as possible. And I panicked and cried a little and had thoughts of loneliness and hurt and felt unwanted.
I also knew it had nothing to do with him. It just felt so much like the last 3 years sleeping with my ex, with him avoiding me as much as possible, sleeping as far away as he could, not speaking to me, all the nights I cried silently because I was so alone. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t until Saturday know how cruel it was. That I would panic if something even reminded me of how I felt then in bed with him–alone, unloved, ignored, hated.
And even though I knew this is what PTSD felt like, it doesn’t mean I could stop feeling that way. My base brain was telling me I was in danger and couldn’t think my way out of it. So I let it roll over and through me and put it aside to try to work out later.
I haven’t worked it through yet. I still feel that crushing pressure of despair on my chest. There are still things to be worked through in this divorce. I think it was much more harmful than I knew at the time.