Curtains closed, not exposed, there are no feelings if nobody knows, remain juxtaposed, steadfastly composed, I’m not failing I just can’t handle the loads. Look at me all ready to sob, blubbering mess, disgusting fraud, update the dispatcher I’m hiding from god, I can’t suck it up enough to do my job.

I have to take my son to the dentist this afternoon. I don’t know how that’s going to fit into the “window of tolerance” with everything else but I’ll have to deal. I dissociated at the hospital yesterday a few times. At least it just looks like I’m sleeping and being startled awake when someone talks to me so no one need know the truth in the moment. I snap out of them with verbal stimuli now as opposed to having to be touched so they’re my little secret.

My wife had a major surgery and will be in the hospital for a couple of days. It all went well and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

I can’t visit her today. I have nothing left in me to be strong enough to be at the hospital again. Some paramedic I am. Anxiety. My muse. I threw up the few things I ate yesterday in the middle of the night, it all looking no different than it would have when I swallowed it all hours earlier. Eat something everyone will say. Meet PTSD. It laughs at your adages and advice.

I’m trying to be gentle and kind and all that stuff I’m supposed to be when I’m struggling but I’m not exactly on top of the world today. I’m not who I used to be. Maybe I never really was.

It stings and burns deep that I’m not by her side but I know she needs rest, not my drama and crap. It stands to reason, I know.

Logic, however, does not always console the soul. My wife tells me I can do hard things and her faith in me means a lot. Someone needs to have some and I know she doesn’t lie.

I will regroup, tremor, breathe and go back to see her tomorrow. I will.

I love you M’Lady, I can’t wait to have you home again.