A fun book came in the mail today, courtesy of the paramedic association. I’d like to say I left it alone but of course I had to look. Ambulances and paramedics leapt forth from page after page of happenings. It started out as one of those “See? The world doesn’t stop turning without you, loser” moments. I know I can’t expect it to but it still sucks having that slapped in your face when you didn’t choose to leave.

I say “started” because I’m learning to steer my brain away from negative rumination. Finally. When it gets intense I have outlets like this and the faithful old record collection. I’m also getting more comfortable letting my wife know. That sounds stupid but to see coping as progress and strength and to stop looking at being triggered or getting emotional as profound weaknesses has been a gift. The disgust with myself for having anxiety is lifting. It’s not perfect but it’s happening. I’ll gladly take it.

I miss the good parts of my job too, and there were many. You can’t deal with the breadth and depth of humanity for years and not walk away with some positive experiences as well. I talk of the bad a lot but it serves as an exorcism of sorts, get the demons out of my head. I don’t want rid of the good, I don’t struggle to cope with the good. So I never share the good. But I should. My OT has talked to me about recognizing the good more and making new mental associations for some of my more obvious triggers like ambulances and uniforms.

I don’t hate myself for getting PTSD anymore. I’m far less disappointed in myself. I’m working on not feeling shame but that’s hard after drinking and isolating to hide my “weakness”. Those changes are coming from having not given up on getting better when it didn’t seem like I would and recognizing better for what it is. That’s the good I’m sharing today.

Seems they don’t call all this craziness an injury for nothing.