The Truth About Living With PTSD On The Bad Days

It’s no secret that PTSD has tremendous effects on daily life. As someone who struggles with PTSD, I often feel alone. I find that when it comes to stories about living with PTSD people often choose to talk about the good days and the victories. Although they aren’t any less important than the bad days, these days need to get addressed as well.

If you struggle with PTSD know that you are not alone. And for those of you that are just curious or perhaps want to better understand loved ones, this is how a bad PTSD day looks like for me.

This post is not to show or say that every day with PTSD looks the same or that the harder days always look like this.

Please remember that post-traumatic stress disorder affects people in different ways and not everyone who is diagnosed with PTSD will relate to my experience.

TW: Sexual Abuse,Flashbacks,Trauma

Living With PTSD On Bad Days

Today is one of those days. Those days where I feel as though I will never be more than my trauma. Those days where every breath I take is heavier than the one before. Once again my mind and body are at war. All I want to do is scream but not a single word comes out.

I try my very best to relax, to just “let go”, but the thoughts keep coming. I keep pushing. I try to do some work but my anxiety only becomes worse. Instead, I journal, do some breathing exercises and listen to my favorite music.

Nothing works, I begin clinging to anything I possibly can.

I break.

The tears keep coming. I’m crying alone on the bathroom floor. I begin drowning in my own sea of pain and memories.

Every sound, every sudden noise, every movement around me takes me back. The hand I put on my mouth is now replaced with the memory of his. Shhhh. I don’t even know if the voice telling me to shut the fuck up is my own. Now again alone with my abuser.

I hear his voice, feel his hands touching the body that is supposed to belong to me, I hear cries. My mind begins playing a movie of a little girl trapped under the body of a man, I recognize her. I know that this girl is the person I once was.

I jump into the screen. I go back to playing the role of this little, innocent, frightened girl for what feels like an eternity. I can hear her thoughts, I feel her suffering to the point that the world around me shuts out. I end up screaming and crying-or so I’ve heard from those around me. I get so deep inside my role that my actions are no longer in my control.

At some point, I come back to reality in one way or another. My mind keeps racing and I can’t breathe. I can’t make sense of the situation. I want, I need to throw up. I’m scared and disgusted, not sure if more of my own body or by the actions of his.

An intense wave of shame and guilt hits me. Why didn’t I put the memories away? Why can’t I ever just be okay? Did I choose to be this way?

And then it calms down, I begin putting two and two together until my mind goes blank. I become numb. Nothing seems to matter. I feel nothing at all because my pain is not one I can contain.

I try to go on as usual. I am completely empty. I truly can’t feel a thing. I get through the day on “automatic mode” completely robotically. I do what I have to do without communicating with others and I steer away completely from physical contact.

At some point, everything and anything becomes too much. My nothingness is replaced with everything. I feel every emotion I possibly can. I’m sad, angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, tired, confused, and somehow still empty.

I try to find safety and comfort within myself. I try to practice self-care and cope with my emotions but today this didn’t work. I want to find comfort in someone else. I want someone to lean on. Of course, this was another problem.

My PTSD brain feels in danger today. I can’t help but feel threatened by others and even if I didn’t I truly don’t know what or how I feel. I don’t know if I made the right decision but for today staying silent feels safe and my feeling of safety has been taken away for long enough.

My body begins shaking and this time it’s not a PTSD flashback but a trigger. A loved one hugging me. A man I truly love and trust but at this moment the feeling of his hands around my body makes me feel trapped. Again a little girl stuck between the arms of a man.

I pretend to be okay, I smile and stay silent afraid of the cries that will come out as soon as I open my mouth. When I finally can I run back to the bathroom floor and the loop begins again. Another movie begins playing in my head and surprise surprise- I get the lead role.

Today was more about surviving with PTSD than living with PTSD. Some days that’s all I can do and in my opinion, it’s more than enough.

This is my story for today and getting it off my chest truly felt great. We all have a story. Share your own mental health story or confession anonymously and remind yourself and others that we are not alone.

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