And So It Begins...
If I'm wrong about what this blog is for, someone tell me!!
But I think this is for thing like:
The other night I was at the stove stirring something. DH was beside me, cutting veggies and we were talking about how I miss my mother because she had a special knack with the recipe we were doing. DH put his hands on my shoulders and was consoling me but he had his hands too close to the back of my neck. I freaked out.
This isn't something that has happened very often with DH, but if I'd had a knife in my hand instead of a spoon, he would have been seriously hurt. I don't want to go into details, but an Ativan helped me get back down from the ceiling, and he was very understanding. But sad, because it was sad for him to know he could make me feel so terrible. He understands because he has the same kind of response when approached from behind or grabbed suddenly.
I'm feeling despondent about it. I struggled, struggled, to keep my reaction under control, because I didn't want to distress him. Just thinking about how I felt makes me tense and I can feel rage simmering. I need to go take a damned pill now.
Then they (therapist, VA, family) wonder why I don't want to go out.
This was in my kitchen, in my home, in my bunker, with my best friend and dearest partner activating the monster response.