Today was a decent day. I went out for lunch and did some banking with my parents. I made the 3 hour drive home with my son that was again plagued with traffic. I listened to music the whole way home (Craft, Darkthrone, Blaze Of Perdition and Blood Ceremony). I want to feel good about that and relax, but instead I’m preoccupied. My brain is stuck on a call tonight. Specifically an image. I’m undecided about sharing the specifics of calls, so I think I’m going to hold off for now. I’ll just say the image is of a newly-delivered baby in an unsafe situation. One of those questioning humanity type calls. I don’t like how my mind does this. I have a hard time distracting myself from it. Plus, once one comes others like to follow. It’s like a twisted yearbook. I can also go through what I have named the slideshow of death. Images of people that are injured, dead or both but without their story. I’m not sure if I prefer remembering or not. The stories are depressing and tragic. The stories involve the reactions of on-scene family and friends. I have many good memories from life on the road as well. It wasn’t all doom and gloom. With PTSD the bad just eats away at any pleasure you can derive from the good though. I keep pausing my writing because the image of walking into that apartment keeps playing in my head. Disbelief. When I journal it can sometimes take me a while as things like that happen while I try to write in the moment. I have gotten better at coping with these periods. I can usually keep it hidden from those around me and appear ok. Wonder where I learned to do that. My wife often picks up on my anxiety though. I can’t always sit/stand still when I’m thinking of calls. Little ticks and twitches and shakes. She notices and asks, getting me to share and come out of my head a bit. Sometimes I end up crying with her about it. Sometimes, depending who is around I have to go in the bathroom to cry for a couple of minutes. I hate crying in front of other people. I don’t like people seeing the cracks in the mask. Even my family. I know that’s perpetuating a lot of masculinity stereotypes and goes against being open about feelings but I can’t help it. At the same time I’m learning to acknowledge feelings instead of judging them, and crying makes me feel ashamed. I went on a marriage retreat with my wife back in January and I actually cried there. Not just in front of her either. Maybe there is hope for me. Mainly though I just don’t want to burden my family with my head drama. I like them to think I’m doing better than I really am because I have caused enough stress to everyone. They don’t need any more worry. I want them to feel like things are becoming stable again. When the sights, sounds and smells pay me a visit I do my best to keep my composure. I may have to keep walking into that apartment over and over but everyone else in the house doesn’t have to be doing it with me the whole time. My wife is going to read this and scold me.