Everything was going great. From all accounts we were about to wrap up the night. Last thing I remember is being ok. Next thing I remember is crying my eyes out to the point of actually throwing up.
We weren't planning to spend the night but did because it was nearly morning before I calmed down enough to accept that I was safe. Honestly I think I was just too exhausted to register fear. But the panic had finally stopped.
I woke up so embarrassed the next morning. My boyfriend assured me I was the only one who was. My friends acted like nothing off had happened. They insisted the whole incident was no biggie and just chilled till I was ready to start the day and talk about what happened.
Y'all I threw up on their porch. I kept everyone up hours past plans. I cried uncontrollably. I writhed in pain. I was disgustingly emotionally naked. I relived my worst traumas in their living room.
We talked over breakfast about what could have been the trigger. We tried to piece together the part my brain won't remember. And they listened again as I tried to figured out what warnings I must have missed. All in the hopes of me possibly recognizing early enough to try to stop it next time. It's not a guarantee. It's a baby step forward. It's trial and error.
And they want to know when the next double date night is.
This is why I call him my brother.
This is why I call her my sister.
This is why I call him my boyfriend.
They are part of my support group.
And they are more than I have ever dared wish for.
#PTSD #CPTSD #SupportGroups #CPTSDinrelationships #Flashbacks #Friendship #FriendsForSurvival #Hope #thankful #breakthestigma #PTSDSupportAndRecovery