Sunday, February 5, 2012

A PTSD-on-steroids kind of day...

So today I'm having a "hello, secondary PTSD, my how I did not miss you" kind of day and the hubby is having a PTSD-on-steroids kind of day and our sweet daughter is having a whine-without-ceasing kind of day.

Which means, in all fairness, our house should have come with it's own, neon, flashing warning label since about 7:00 am this morning... ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK... or better yet RUN FOR YOUR FREAKING LIVES. 

By 8:15 this morning even the animals in our household were trying to escape.

By noon, my level "nurse talking to my patient" voice had long since evaporated and my seams were obviously fraying.  I was out of ideas to keep our daughter busy.  I was in survival mode.

By 2:00 pm, I walked upstairs, shut the bathroom door and took a bath in the dark... hoping somehow that the darkness and sound of running water would soothe me.  Unfortunately, this trick that works most of the time, failed today.

By 4:00 pm, I was grasping at all available straws.  A family member called and asked if they could take our daughter for ice cream.  SALVATION... or so I thought.  Again, not so much.  In the short time they were here picking her up, they managed to ask several uncomfortable questions that only made the hubby's mood worse.  Then, when they brought her back, they managed to wake the finally sleeping hubby.  Insert expletive.

I went to a local home improvement store at 6 pm (1 hour before they closed) to get some stuff for a contractor who will be here tomorrow to finish doing some renovations we're having done to make our lower level easier for the hubby to access.  At about 6:40 I was still dazed and confused, trying to wade through the list the contractor left me, and the guy helping me was fussing and reminding me every two minutes that I had 20 minutes, 18 minutes, 16 minutes, etc, etc, before the store closed.  So, eventually I cried.  Not because my feelings were hurt, but simply because I was finally just too overwhelmed.  Insert uncomfortable silence from the now very confused store clerk. 

So as I sit typing, it's a little past 9:00 pm and I'm so glad it's finally almost quiet here, but I'm so keyed up now there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep for hours yet.  It's been, in all truth and honesty, one long, incredible mess of a day.  I'm no where near ready for the week to start tomorrow.  I'm tired.  No, I'm weary.

But, tomorrow, I'll get up, put my "big girl panties on" and do it again.  I'll hug my husband, I'll hug my daughter, and we'll start fresh.  That's the thing about nurturing a life and a family that includes injuries like PTSD and traumatic brain injury.  Our days can turn on a dime.  Surviving them... and thriving in them... is all about gaining fuel and momentum from the good days and letting go, moving on, and forgiving our heroes and ourselves for the bad ones.

So, here's to tomorrow... and many more tomorrows... in a different than expected life with a man I love... even on days like this :)

Thanks for listening,

Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and more!


  1. Completely understand that kind of day! Gotta take it day by day, sometimes minute to minute! Hope today is better.