Living with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder

Some things in life you have control of, and obviously the remaining things you don’t. But how do you feel when you know you made a huge mistake by ignoring your instincts? Or when you know some people aren’t your friends, but refuse to believe it? This is where my tale starts.

It was the summer between my junior and senior year in high school, and a week just like any other. I WAS a good student. Never had any problems in school, even though i slacked a little here and there. That is, until i had this dream that had me so shaken the entire day that i couldn’t even concentrate. The dream involved, vaguely, the feeling like someone was chasing me and persecuting me because they thought i was gay. You know, a fag. People naturally go through that stage in identity development, not excluding me, but this dream really had me on edge. However, the same friday night i went out with a friend, who just so happened to be a girl. We hit a back road, with a little ‘green’ as usual, then i got the bright idea of going to my old hometown to visit some old friends, which turned out to be a big mistake.

I’ve been through alot, i was abused by a neighbor when i was about 4, then my dad died when i was 6. So as a result i wasn’t a confident person to begin with. So naturally the ‘friends’ i had thought i was a fag from the first day i met them. [I know this sounds like denial, i really does, but it’s more like i’m just a repressed straight guy.] When i got to my friends house i introduced my friend, told them she was just a friend, and proceeded to visit. After a while we got bored and my ‘friend’, JY (people shall remain anonymous), suggested we should go out to his old friend NG’s. On the way i started getting this really bad feeling, but ignored it, thinking it was just the pot and continued on the way to NG’s. We got there, i was still trying to maintain composure, doing fine. We hung out, smoked a j, then the panic set in. Now that i think back, they must have been messing with me, thinking it would be something funny to watch me smoke something that had either been laced, or wasnt what i thought i was at all. The entire time i was there, about 2 hours, all i could think about was how badly i needed to get out of there.

Blame it on the drug-induced state, but i’m pretty sure they were threatening me, or at least i felt like they were. I remember NG at one point putting me in a headlock, while i was sitting on their steps basically having a heart attack I remember NG telling me about some guy who the supposedly killed and buried somewhere in the city. (Maybe they were just messing with me). Either way it felt like i was being threatened. I also remember the guys mom saying something about ‘having a pistol to take care of that’. Then as i was getting in the car to get the hell out of there, NG (did i mention this guy openly calls himself satan?) looks me square in the face and says “Later Fag,” confirming the feelings i had at the time. (Becuase i’m smarter and a little less ’satan’ than them i’m automatically a fag?)

After that happened i think i lost myself in the most unholy depression I started having nightmares, i could barely wake up to my own alarm clock anymore, my grades slipped, and i isolated from everyone. I also fell into this kind of hypochondria/OCD about being gay and thinking “am i really that feminine that the only guy friends i’ve had would do that? Well maybe if i cant see how i act or how people perceive me i must be really lost.” But i wasnt lost until that happened.

I’ve been dealing with this for about 4 years now, without professional help until recently. I went to college, successfully completed 3 semesters, but then went back to using drugs and alcohol to handle all of the stress, anxiety and depression (Wasnt the best idea considering that pot, even something that smells like it [sometimes cigarette smoke] triggers a panic attack.) So now i sit in my sister’s house, where i now live, in debt up to my ankles, barely keeping a job that i’ve had for a month, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And honestly, knowing that PTSD is much more common in women that men, this is kind of embarrassing and difficult to discuss.

However menacing or sadistic the fates may seem, i’ve got to keep my mind focused on the fact that there’s still hope. Any comments or questions will be greatly appreciated.