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Wednesday

24th September 2014

People have often asked me how did you get your PTSD? Were you in the military? No, I wasn't never in the military, or any of the armed forces. People always associate PTSD with the armed forces, but it's not always the way. 
PTSD can come from any bad experience someone has in there life. Apparently, or so I have been told by the doctors that I have had my PTSD for most of my life. I did learn how to control it, don't ask me how because I don't know, until I got attacked at work by a drunk. Why did mine suddenly appear then? Well, I was told that the human mind is like a bottle and it stores everything up until, something happens to make that bottle overflow and it's like a bottle of pop that has been shaken up before opening. When you open that bottle it explodes everywhere.
That is part of what has happened to me. Also that is where the saying comes from, when someone says to you, "you shouldn't bottle things up" there is not a truer saying, talk, talk to someone, but it has to be someone that you trust.
Trust, now there's a word. Trust, something I really do have a problem with. How are you supposed to trust someone you know that is a complete stranger to you? I am on about care workers. How are you supposed to be able to sit there and open that massive can of worms that is your past and tell them everything about yourself? It's impossible, to be totally honest. I have wanted so many times to tell my care worker everything but it's like there is a massive wall that stops me. 
I can say little snippets, like I was abused as a kid, physically, mentally and sexually by the man that was supposed to be the man that I trusted,(there's that word again,) he was supposed to love me, protect me, but done nothing he was supposed to do, he was my father, I hate him with a passion, even now when he's been dead for over ten years.
I had a chance to get my revenge for what he did to me, I was young, I think about 18, maybe 19, and I saw him one day, I carried a knife back then, a flick knife, I could feel the hatred in myself, I could feel my temper rising, I wanted to finish him so much, but I had made a promise to my mother that I would never harm him.
My mother was a fantastic woman, after all he had put her through, yet she made me promise that. She always said that, "God pays debts without money" I wasn't religious even then, but saying that, my father did die a very slow and painful death from Emphysema. 
I went to his funeral, yes I cried and I got called a hypocrite, but I wasn't crying because he was dead, I was crying because of relief, because of release, because that 'person' had finally gone.
From that day to this though, I have had nightmares, flashbacks, voices of him. But I controlled everything as best I could, I never told anyone anything, then I was attacked, attacked over a couple of bus fares, now I cannot control the things I see or hear, my life is now totally gone. I am useless, I cannot do anything, not a damn thing.