I don’t need any kind of advice. I just need a space to write this all out and help me process my emotions and I know this group is a safe space. I love every one of you for helping create this community of strong women! Y’all don’t actually have to read my nonsense so you can exit if you want haha. My PTSD stems from one event: a tornado that literally picked my son and I up out of our home, and threw us. My son, at 23 months old, almost didn’t make it through the night. God has a big plan for that kid because despite 6 broken bones, punctured and collapsed lungs, TBI, and internal bleeding, he made it out of his coma and is a thriving, healthy 11 year old. My own injuries were minor in comparison. But that event exacerbated underlying anxiety I’m now coming to realize was prevalent in my childhood. Then it triggered a deep depression once the “high” and excitement of my miracle child wore off. That one day of being completely out of control caused a shift to develop a very “Type A” personality. The total and complete opposite of what I was before; carefree, messy, total wild child lol. Following the tornado, I started to become aware of just how abusive my previous marriage was and how controlling my ex was. I couldn’t even go out with a friend without “permission.” Now, when I feel a sense of chaos or I don’t feel in control of a situation, my anxiety goes into hyperdrive. I do have other small triggers (overstimulation, particularly being “touched out” and noise. Jesus, noise is number one lol) and I can get over those pretty quickly with some tools I’ve learned over the years. But a lack of control has a massive impact on my mental well-being.

Anyways... my grandfather’s Covid illness is worsening. I have been getting very limited information regarding his status and I’m trying not to bug my grandma or my dad too often for an update. I suspect he is not getting adequate treatment and not being there to advocate for him is hard for me. He has moved from a Covid unit to an intermediate unit, which is a step above the Covid floor and a step below ICU- but it can function as an ICU if needed. The little I do know is his blood ox is in the low 60s, he has not eaten in two days, he is too weak to speak or move, they are not providing any additional treatment or support beyond forced oxygen through the cannula. I have been taking the information I do have and researching like crazy. Because of the way my anxiety and depression gets triggered, research soothes me 😂 Yes, it’s a nerdy thing to admit. But being armed with information and knowing what to expect really does give me a sense of control and acceptance over whatever is happening. But Covid, for fucks sake, does not follow ANY kind of logical pattern. No consistent data. No consistent trends for prognosis. Nothing. This has all spun me into a ball of anxiety and stress. To see him suffering, to see my family emotionally broken at the thought of losing him, and to literally take this day by day with no prognosis whatsoever is killing me.

My anxiety and stress has turned emotional symptoms into physical symptoms now and I can feel my body slipping into a wave of depression. And even though I “suffer from depression” it’s not really a daily battle like my anxiety. I can usually identify when a wave is coming and I will utilize a lot of methods to beat it before it gets bad. I can only recall twice in my adult life where my depression hit me hard and I’m starting to experience those same symptoms again. My fatigue is getting ridiculous. I have no desire to go socialize, and declined two invitations this weekend (normally I JUMP at an opportunity to hang with adults and leave the house lol), I don’t want to talk, I’m annoyed at friends texting me, I’m not reacting to things I usually enjoy, my appetite is dwindling, my mental clarity is shot and I can’t concentrate on school work (I seriously love what I’m studying too). No matter how much I’m saying to myself “this is depression try to force yourself out of it, just one baby step today...” it’s not working. My psychiatrist upped my Zoloft and I’m trying to do small “self care” type things to help. But none of the usual me those of self care are helping. I got my hair done, which usually makes me so excited, and the entire time I wished I would have stayed home to nap instead. My husband, lucky him, doesn’t suffer any mental health issues so he struggles to understand exactly what I’m going through and how I’m feeling. He tries though and I appreciate that. Hopefully the increase in medication will help and I can work myself out of it soon. Today was my first day at 100mg instead of 50 so fingers crossed it kicks in soon.

There’s no point in me saying this. I think I just needed to type it all out and see it in front of me to help process it all and take positive steps forward. If you made it this far, bless you and thank you 😂❤️