Memories haunt, words remind, fears remain, but I will survive.
The phrase “It’s not you, it’s me” has been haunting me the past few days. However, two words are changed in it that makes all the difference: “It’s not you, it’s my PTSD.” In fact, I wanted to name this post that, but it appears that I already had that idea.
Lately, I have been more jumpy than usual. A man who looks homeless walking down the street sends shivers up my spine. The words “kiss” and “smile” cause flashbacks with both images and physical sensations. Even sweet remarks about how I look can make me cringe.
Worst of all, my fear around men has intensified. Certain people remain safe, thankfully, such as my little brother and father. However, I have a strong desire to keep all guys (especially new ones) far away from me. What if they touch me? My thoughts often race into terrifying directions in a manner of a few seconds.