PTSD

I was reading a Frontline article about how the military deals with killing, which led me to look up post traumatic stress disorder; and what I found was fascinating.

I know I have PTSD. I've known for a long time, but I'm not exactly sure what caused it in the first place.
It wasn't the stuff that I don't talk about here because it embarrasses certain family members who choose to believe that stuff never happened. Should you ever meet me in person, go ahead and ask. I'm not embarrassed.

It wasn't my childhood.

It was probably the rape, but I'm not certain.

The thing is... whenever the original trauma happened, it's caused me problems ever since. Something stressful happens, and I stumble. Like walking down a path and tripping over a log. Each time it's harder to get up and climb over the damn thing; and I wouldn't even recognize that I'd tripped if I didn't have good people around to tell me so.
Here's an example: My son was accepted into a very fine high school, unfortunately it's $8900 for his first year. Which we don't have. Which means I need a job. But it's hard to find a job when you've been a stay-home mom for 14 years. It's especially hard when you need to work between 9 and 2:30, no weekends.
So it's stressful.
My mind wanders when I talk on the phone. I stop snuggling with my husband. I don't talk about what's bothering me -heck, I totally forget what's bothering me. I sleep poorly and dream about things I overcame years ago. I startle easily. And I don't leave the house without putting on the mental toughness I acquired in my old neighborhood.

It may sound like a list of complaints. A whine list ;) But it's just stuff I've been thinking about recently. Mostly thoughts like, "Now that I see it, how do I make it go away?" and "I wonder what normal looks like?"

I've come so far, damnit, and I'm still tripping over invisible logs.
It's frustrating.

Ruminations
.
I turned 36 a few days ago, and I must say... I couldn't be happier.
Sure, I look in the mirror and see a few laugh lines; and there are some interesting white streaks in my red-orange hair. But in general, I look in the mirror and see myself. I wonder how much of that is genetic, and how much it has to do with attitude?

What got me thinking about this was not the 10 year old who accused me of looking like I was in my twenties (and informing me that wasn't a compliment.) No, it was this:
The song "MacArthur Park" was stuck in my head, and I shared some of the godawful lyrics with my son. We found a website listing a whole bunch of bad, bad songs; and giggled over some of the things people wrote -and made money from!
But on the list was "seasons in the sun", and I really liked that song when I was a kid. Because one repeating verse really spoke to me. The one where he sings goodbye, it's hard to die, when all the birds are singing in the sky... I've always felt that it will be hard to die. I don't have any fear of what comes after, I just don't wanna let go. It's so wonderful here.
I'm a 36 year old kid marvelling at life. I like that.