PTSD is hard

I just had a great conversation with my psychiatrist this morning about how many good things were falling into place for me right now.  Then the PTSD took over this afternoon.  PTSD negates every positive thing that might be happening in my life.  It sucks the hope from my soul and leaves me craving the ultimate way out because I no longer think I am salvageable.

I found myself on the phone with my psychiatrist late in the afternoon–this same day–telling him that I am having suicidal thoughts, and being honest, how I am going to do it.  “You’re not going to do that.  That isn’t going to help anything.  Tell me what’s going through your head–what you’re thinking.”  I don’t feel like I’m…salvageable.  “Whoa, wait a minute!  Do you remember the conversation we just had?  This morning?  About all the good things that are happening for you right now and falling into place?”  Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.  PTSD has a way of causing negative circular thinking.  “I know.  It obscures all the good things that are happening.  You need to be doing things.  Being around people helps, too.  I know I’m saying all these things, and it’s…”  I know that you know it’s hard.  I hate PTSD.  “So you’re going to watch [your nephew].  Then you’re going to go climbing tomorrow morning.  You’re going to hang out at Starbucks or hang out at the gym–around people–and you should probably do an entry on how hard PTSD is.”  I asked if he would be in cell phone range this weekend, since my neurotransmitters take forever to get cleaned up.  “For the majority of the time, I won’t be, but when I am, I’ll check my voice messages.  You’re going to make it.”  Thank you, Sir.  “You’re welcome.  Bye.”  Thank God for coaching moments…  I just need to climb.