PTSD

Energize me. Help me breathe slower and deeper. Teach me to actually believe that everything will be ok. Help me stop pretending that I’m not dying inside of a crippling fear that this monster is coming for me faster than I can imagine. Fear is so ugly. And obsessive. I’m afraid that the very hormones that make me proud to be a woman are killing me. And I can’t look away. I can bury it, and I try to. But it rears its ugly head regularly throughout my day. I’m fucking terrified. And I’m supposed to be excited and filled with love for a baby that I’m supposed to live to raise. It’s choking me and balling up in my stomach. And then I worry, ‘maybe this is what will make it grow’. I’m really stuck. And I want more. But it’s almost impossible to believe everything will be ok. Two doctors have asked me if my husband is capable of handling all three children without me. But don’t be negative, right? Rest and relax. Meditate, even. But when I do, and I close my eyes, I just see it and I want to scream help me. And nobody can. I am alone. It’ pretty dark in here tonight.