It’s one thing to have trauma “happen” to you and then be forced
to live with it,
work through it,
somehow try to manage until you “make it”
It’s another thing entirely to see someone else dealing with trauma…
And know that you are the cause.
My daughter has panic attacks when she hears sirens or sees flashing lights.
Because she found my unconscious body first.
Heard the sirens.
Saw the lights.
Watched the paramedics traipse through our home
To resuscitate me.
I have to live with that.
And so does she, because of me.
But at least I’m alive
And she loves me enough to talk about it
And be aware
of why she feels
how she feels
These are good things. They come with the bad.
I just have to look harder for the good
And take her with me on that journey.
Because I can’t undo
what was done.
Neither can you.
No one can.
Today and tomorrow are all we have.
At the very least – PTSD starts with “Post”
So I’ve got that going for me…
which is nice.
Your eyes in that picture… 😭
You do have a point: PTSD starts with “Post.”
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