My reminder popped up to remind me that I need to pay again for the use of my domain.  Please understand, the ads you see on the posts do not benefit me directly.  Word Press is the beneficiary making it possible for me to afford my domain.  I am one person sharing what I learned about living with PTSD.  I lived with it since I was 5 years old but didn’t have name for it until I was in my 40’s.  This year I am looking at turning the big Six O.  Amazing for the girl that didn’t figure I would live long enough to graduate from high school.  High school graduation is one of my vivid memories.  It is like I can watch it movie style in my mind.  For some reason, instead of feeling sad, the whole proceeding was hilarious.  Then I went to college and studied engineering just like my parents wanted me to do.  I loved college.  I enjoyed working for one of the professors.  I met an amazing guy and married after 3 semesters of college.  Then life got wild, 6 kids, moving around chasing dreams and learning about life.  My health problems were obvious in high school but neither my parents or my doctor believed me.  After the 6 kids arrived I again tackled talking to doctor about my health problems.  Subjected to every test they could think of the answer came up, it is all in your head, the tests are normal.  I gave up, walked away from seeing doctors.  It was easy.  No family doctor.  If the kids had an emergency I took them to urgent care.  Cheaper, easier, and no more questions they didn’t have answers for anyway.  My health deteriorated rapidly.  I finally spent 3 years in bed, semi-invalid more dead than alive.  I hit rock bottom.  Thing about rock bottom you can stand there and look around.  I decided to fight back.  I did.  7 years of research and study taught me a bunch of stuff/illnesses I didn’t have.  Another few years then cancer.  Tail spin.  Then one of my daughters showed up with similar symptoms.  I went in for more medical tests.  Days in the hospital and a scary psychiatrist claiming she could fix me.  (Please note, I do not believe that all psychiatrist are scary, just this one.) Again they are telling me it is all in my head.  My thought, “If it is all in my head, why does my body hurt so much?”  Out of desperation I finally went to counseling.  Folks, to me, cancer is a piece of cake compared to the intensity of counseling and finding out it was all in my head because that is where my brain is.  PTSD affects me physically, emotionally, my identity, and spiritually.  It wrecks havoc on my health, relationships and emotions.  There is not one part of my life free from the brutal impact of PTSD.   Now, I write about what I learned, what I am learning, what worked for me, what didn’t work for me, and things I want to try.  I read about other people’s journeys and think about what they are doing and what they learned might help me.  Thank you for coming along with me on this twisted journey.