PTSD

Yesterday, I was diagnosed with PTSD.

No. Way.  That was my first reaction.  It's humorous, really.  I have spent the last how many years researching PTSD in order to better understand, love, and support my husband?  And I didn't even realize the things that *I* was experiencing were exactly those same symptoms.

I can't have PTSD.  That's his thing.  I can't take that from him.  It makes me feel like I'm trying to take attention when I consider it.  I'm the one who is supposed be taking care of him.  I can't need taking care of.   Who will be the strong and stable one for our children if both of us go through unsteady times?

In August, I was raped.  Twice by the same man.  After the trauma that I had experienced leading up to it, I dissociated the experiences.  I walked away from it all completely numb.  My mind has been in sleep mode for many months now.  I didn't even think about it.  "I'm fine, it didn't affect me" I told Carsten and my dear friend.  That only lasted until my mind thawed out and started allowing reality to seep back in.  Why did I just rage at my teenage boy for talking about women being triggered?  Why do I feel so afraid all of the time?  Why am I having panic attacks every time I go to public places?  Why can't I concentrate on my school work?  Why do I lose my words in the middle of talking?  Why do I want to rip the heads off of men who just look at me?  And just recently, since I've acknowledged the full extent of what happened, the flashbacks.  They are full-on.  Flashbacks that send me into spirals so steep it knocks the breath out of me at how quickly I fall to the bottom of the dark, deep pit.

On the one hand it feels so unfair that he isn't here with me to hold me through it all.  On the other hand, I don't want our time together to be stolen by the shitty actions of a man who thought he could take whatever he wanted.

And because of all that we've been through in this past year, I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that it will just be too much.  That he will change his mind about wanting to come back to me.  If I'm no longer the strong one who holds him together while he falls apart in his PTSD; if I'm now the one who gets lost in her mind, who is now the broken one...will he even want a part of that?