One day at a time.....

How does that saying go..... the best laid plans of mice and men?

I can relate. It seems like, in PTSD land (which, believe me, is not as fun as it may seem), things never go the way that you want or the way that you plan. Things can be going so great, so well one week and the next, it's just not. It may seem melodramatic, but it's the way that it goes. "One day at a time" is the motto du jour. We cling to the motto. It's silly, but that one phrase brings comfort. It's like throwing a warmed blanket over a chilled body. We have a bad day, a bad week, a fucked up month and we look at each other and one of us utters "one day at a time" and it's like we just released our breath that we didn't realize that we'd been holding. Our lungs fill back up with fresh air and we move on. 

Some days, though....... some days, no matter how much we seek that comfort and fresh air, it's just out of reach. We can feel it brushing our fingertips in a maddening tease, but it stays there, taunting us. That one day  remains elusive. 

So, we get back on the roller coaster and we ride that bucking bitch called PTSD and we grit our teeth and we do what we have to do to get our "one day at a time" clarity. 

That's what fighting for a relationship in the middle of PTSD is like. 

A little direction

If I could ask anything from this whole experience? journey? whatever you want to call what we're going through, it'd be for a manual. An instruction sheet on how to handle things. I'm not just talking about things like, triggers, although, let's face it, that would be nice. I want a manual that details exactly how I should react to outbursts, how to soothe a rage, how to make things easier. I want a detailed, outlined, full proof direction for my life.

I started this blog with the intention of helping other people in the same place that I'm in. Which, I know, is a lofty goal, but as time goes on, I find myself using it more and more as a sounding board for my own travails and obviously, for the obstacles that my husband faces.

You see, when you're sent home with that imposing PTSD diagnosis, no one explains to you what comes next. No one says, here, let me tell you what comes with that diagnosis. They don't tell you about the mood swings, they don't say anything about the anger and they sure as hell don't tell you about the fear. They don't tell you how to comfort your husband when he's struggling with facing his dark thoughts.

I wish they did.

They sure as hell don't tell you how to rebuild a broken person. I want a diagram for that. I want to know which piece goes where. Right now, I feel like I'm playing a giant game of Operation and I'm losing. That annoying buzzer and vibrations that sound after you touch the sides? Yeah, that's my soundtrack.

There are always the good times. I'll never deny that. And love. My life is full of love. My husband is a strong, capable person and his diagnosis will never define him.

For me, though, I want to be a better partner. I want to have a clear direction. Instead of muddling my way through murky waters. I wish there was a manual.