This week was exam week–midyears and semester finals. The tests are done, the grading is under way, and somewhere over the next two days I get to put together my two second-semester classes. It’s almost as if someone sat down and asked, “how can we come up with a way to stress both students and teachers as much as possible?”
On the other hand, the school year is half-over.
The crazy winter weather continues, as in no winter weather. It’s been raining for nearly twenty hours; as a colleague pointed out today, if it were ten degrees colder we’d be buried. Mild temperatures continue for the next week, which puts us into February. Chances are it’s going to be a mostly snowless winter. Makes one very suspicious about climate change.
Anne & I are going to talk with a writer tomorrow; she’s been working on a book about returning veterans and their families. She interviewed us a few years ago, but has decided to include the issue of PTSD and its long-term effects. Neither Anne nor I have spoken about this with anyone bur ourselves for going on three years, so it’ll be an interesting exercise. Since then, I know Anne’s thought a lot about the secondary effects that my PTSD has had on her and the family. For that matter, I have, too. Recently, I’ve been trying harder to communicate to those around me where I’m at. I feel like I plateaued a little over a year ago; its not getting any worse, though not really any better. I’ve learned to manage the worst effects, so don’t have to struggle to keep the anger, anxiety, hyper-vigilance, etc. under control; however, that’s not the same as being free of it all. The self-care I’ve learned requires that I do certain things, and not do others. Those people who have to live & work around me, have to put up with me, need to have at least some idea of what’s going on so they don’t mistake my behaviors for anything other than what they are. For example, several times a day I really need to be in a quiet place by myself. Keeping all the effects managed takes a lot of energy, physical and emotional; if I don’t have time to relax a little, I become over-tired, more stressed, and less able to manage it all. It’s easy to assume that I’m alienating myself, upset with others, avoiding people, and so on, when in fact I simply need some space.
It’s not easy to talk about these things, of course. Not only is my inner life private, like everyone’s; it also leads to feeling vulnerable, which is a trigger for all sorts of reactions. I really dislike opening up like this. But, it helps others, especially those close to me, understand what’s up. So, I’m chalking it up to just one more of the unpleasant elements of living with PTSD.
