Please, Not Again.

I'm terrified my PTSD is coming back - even more terrified than I am of my CF. The PTSD makes me a different person - a VERY crazy person. A very ANGRY, crazy person. At least my CF can't take my personality from me. My dad says that maybe these are just normal dreams - but then why do they bother me so much?

The following is straight from my journal entry for today. To catch you up, it's no secret that I was stalked in high school by a teacher and it caused my PTSD. A surgery that nearly killed me didn't help and triggered the big episodes of crazy, but the stalking started it. Also, the teacher was fired about 2 years after I graduated. I know why and how, but I don't ever write about it publicly because this is a public blog. So here's my entry.

Last night I had a PTSD nightmare. It was awful. I had a dream that [the teacher] convinced me to date him and we were engaged. I remember him trying to trap me and I was running away. He desperately tried to get me to go with him, but I refused. I ran away, and collapsed when I was finally surrounded by people I trust.

I tried to get the ring off but it was stuck. Then I learned the news that he had killed himself and he had planned to kill me too - and this first part of the dream played over and over several times before it continued.

I remember trying to get away from the stigma of having willingly dated him (side note: nothing that happened to me in high school was in any way me giving in like I had in this dream, which made it even more weird). I was trying to get over the feelings that came with knowing he planned to kill me. I was wandering around the high school trying to find my homeroom.

I was on the 2nd floor and saw a teacher's list and my name was on it. I entered the room, but there were no seats left. They didn't want me - I was cursed.

Then I was in a house with my mom and other random people. Wait. There was something about a car and Sarah was there. I felt safe while I was with her, but then I had to go back into the house. Then objects started to attack me.

I vividly remember two swords flying towards me while I was standing on a staircase. I jumped to avoid them and they pierced the stairs, narrowly missing me. There was a spirit trying to get me - the spirit of [the teacher] had come back to kill me.

I tried to shut the door at the bottom of the stairs so I could run up the stairs to safety, but it wouldn't close all the way. I could see safety out a window but I couldn't get to it.

I woke up.

I woke up confused, convinced the dream was real. I wanted to get dressed but I was confused and couldn't figure out how. I stood in the doorway between my bedroom and bathroom still trapped in my dream.

It took me several minutes to come out of my trance. I fought my way out and had to yell instructions at myself. "FIND PANTS. FIND PANTS. PUT THEM ON." and "BRUSH TEETH. WALK TO SINK AND BRUSH TEETH." If I didn't keep reminding myself outloud what I was doing, I might get trapped again.

I've had many moments today when I've had to snap out of it and focus on what I was doing.

I hate these dreams. They ruin my day. I might go as far to say that they are slowly ruining my soul.

I'm terrified. The dreams are so real. Sometimes they aren't scary in nature, but they still scare me. Like the time I dreamt that Darin had gone to the Rocky Horror Picture Show in Bemidji, not in Milwaukee so I shouldn't be mad at him for not inviting me. I woke up and picked up the phone to call him. It took me 10 minutes to figure out it was a dream. "My brother is at college in Milwaukee, not at camp, so I can be irked with him for not inviting me." I had to remind myself over and over. I didn't call him, but I very nearly did.

Most the dreams are scary or I dream that I litterally can't get my shit together. I dream I am walking around the high school trying to gather and carry all my stuff and I keep dropping things. Those are the most frequent dreams - they don't bother me as much as the ones with [the teacher]. I shudder as I write his name. It still creeps me out.

I dream he is still teaching and I'm trying to remind everyone that he was fired [omitted part]. I can't convince anyone that my story is true and I'm helpless.

I hate these dreams. I've been told they probably will never go away. And I hate that man for it. I hate that he can still ruin my day. I hate that he haunts me in my sleep. I hate that he still exists.

It's probably the one thing I hate the most about my life. It's probably the one thing I can't get over. And I hate that.

That's what I wrote in my personal journal. Long, yes. True, very. Scary, way too. So that's how I spent my day - in a dazed and confused state. The days I have those dreams my muscles hurt. The stress in my sleep really wears me out. Fun stuff.