Mortaine’s Blog

Last night I had a dream that John drowned in the hot tub. When I woke up, I just cuddled him until I fell back asleep.

And then today, we were joking around, and I gave him a hug, and I moved to “nip” him on the chest (play-bitey), and he put his hands on my neck and pretended to strangle me, and I freaked.

I mean– I freaked so bad, even he could see it. I pushed his hands off my neck, and my eyes got super-wide (pupils probably dilated– I don’t know), and I started panting. Basically, a huge adrenaline-type of panic that lasted for a couple of seconds. And he kind of went “Whoa,” because he wasn’t expecting that reaction.

And then I put my arms around him and cried a little. And he felt bad and apologized, and I told him it wasn’t his fault, and I knew he was just playing around, and that PTSD sucks.

Well, that’s all. This is another “Life with PTSD” post. It’s just really here for anyone reading my journal who wants to know what kinds of stupid little things you have to adapt to, I suppose.

has, as always, a very good short essay about the origins of Easter here. Aside from being a bit critical of those who disdain chocolate ;), it’s pretty unbiased, and I like it very much.

Thanks, for the quick explanation and for being so informative on a Sunday morning!