PTSD & Prince

I was dreaming along last night.  There was something going on in some city.  All of a sudden a man drove by in some vehicle screaming.  At first, I thought it was a joke, but his scream was so horrifying that I realized it was based on terror.  Then, he went by twice more and continued screaming.

Suddenly, I woke up.  My heart was pounding.  I looked at the top of the windows where I could see some sky from my place on the bed.  I wondered, "Where in the hell am I?"  It looked like the windows were part of some hotel room.  Gradually, it dawned on me that it was my own bedroom and the windows were mine.

I could still hear the man screaming in my mind.  I realized it was the whistle of the train that goes by at night.  It blasts four times as it crosses a road near me.  I thought to myself, "This is the very definition of PTSD.  Something that is regular in your life that turns into a monster."

I continued to hear the man screaming.  I thought to myself, "Why do I know what it sounds like when a man screams?"  Half visions of abuse and threatening behavior flashed through my mind.  I wanted to wake up my partner and tell her, "I can't stand living in my mind anymore."  But at our age when sleep can be so hard to come by, we have an understanding not to wake each other unless it is a crisis.

It was 1:30 in the morning.  It had been three hours since I went to bed.  I couldn't shake the sound of the screaming in my mind, but I didn't want to get up.  I thought to put on my headphones and listen to music.  I started four songs from the end of my playlist.  As I listened to Prince's "When Doves Cry," I drifted off to sleep before "Purple Rain" started.

Mental health recovery is both a very long path and illusive.  Each nightmare is slightly different than the next.  Processing one is another voyage from processing another.  My mind is busy trying to process that which is un-processable.

Fortunately, I have resources.  Good night, sweet Prince.


Joceile
5.11.16