It's about what it can become.

The PTSD brain is constantly storing memories without my knowing. Taking bits and pieces of my day and cramming them into some hole in my brain, ready to retrieve them at any given traumatic moment. It stores and stores and stores until one day something bad happens and a tiny little PTSD monster runs to retrieve them all and lock them in one of those godforsaken rooms.
It remembers things that I didn't even know it could be capable of remembering.
Things I can hear, things I can feel, smell, see, experience as if it was that exact moment.

When something bad happens the memories all come flying back at me tenfold. The memories I wasn't aware I was keeping.
A simple sentence spoken by a friend, about what his life could be, becomes a haunting memory when that life is cut short and he's no longer in existence.

Sometimes it's a daily, hourly, struggle to keep triggers at bay. They're always present, but you have them on a leash so they can't get out of control. They're still trying their damnedest to get away from you, run free and reek havoc on your mind. It's a game these triggers play and they don't want to be distracted away or put back in a safe box where you can't see them, where they can't grow into a big ugly monster.
Memories want to ruin your brain, tear you down bit by bit until there's nothing left but blank space. They're only there to win and they will come at you until there is nothing left to break down. Until you're staring off into nothing and can't even seem to form a thought at all.

My triggers depend upon so many different variables to the day. Did I sleep well? What did I dream about? How many opportunities for distraction will I have in a day? Did I get to listen to the radio when I woke up? What time of year is it? Is it a trauma day? Is something weighing heavy on my mind that particular day? Did someone creep out of the abyss to say hello?

I didn't sleep well last night.
On my way to work the radio started talking about festivals over the summer.
(Today this particular topic has triggered my brain.)
I thought of fairs.
The state fair.
The county fair.
Then I had a flashback. I saw a memory I had from a fair - one with someone who is no longer here.
Then I envision what his death may have been like. How he lay in his bed dead for 2 days before anyone found him. These are things I'd rather not remember. Even the happy memories I have of his life are enough to pull on the heartstrings of loss.

Then a whirlwind of sound and a rapid fire of short clips of visual memories of that person flashes through my brain. They've all been let out of their tidy little room. The door to that cluster of memories has been knocked wide open and here I stand, watching them rush by.

Most of the time I'm able to literally run from that situation.
It would have stopped my brain at the fair memory had I been able to distract myself. Life is life though, so it's not always that convenient to do so. I was in my car at the time and there's only so much one can do. Even with years and years of practice I don't always catch myself before it's too late. I could have turned on my copy of The Fault in Our Stars (my favorite novel) on audio to drown out the voices that played through my mind, but I didn't. I got sucked in too fast and rendered the ability to think about solutions until it was an afterthought.

Last week at work a client smelled like a familiar smell. The Naltrexone running through my body had done it's job to serve as a "get the hell away from that now!" warning so I tensed up and walked quickly away. This, thankfully, happens several times a day, this warning of sorts. It isn't a pleasant feeling (imagine the feeling you get from being startled by someone who you were unaware was waiting right around the corner - this is one instance in a day where I feel like that) but it's far better than the alternative mind trap of memories that I don't want. My amygdala is running wild at the warning from the drug that keeps the flashbacks at bay. I feel like I need to run as fast and hard as I can until I'm nowhere near the "danger" (trigger).
I can't run. I'm in the middle of a counseling a group, my clients would think I was insane if I took off running. Instead I just look around in a panicked manner and take a seat on the opposite side of the room as the person who's scent triggered my brain. My heart is racing and my veins are pulsing with adrenaline. All the while my brain is frantically searching for the connection of this scent and whatever unpleasant memory goes along with it. All I can do at this point is pray that it's unsuccessful in finding that link.

If you ever see me dance in place for no reason, you can bet that my body is telling me to run at a time that I know I have to sit still. My eyes are probably wide with fear and knowing. I might get snippy with you. I might be short in my answers. I might appear as though I'm extremely annoyed with whatever is going on around me.
I'm not. Don't take it personally. If you still feel like it pertains to you, just ask. I'll be happy to reassure you it doesn't.

This week one of my favorite podcasts (that I usually use to distract my mind from being triggered) did an episode on PTSD: Stuff You Should Know - How PTSD works. (<-- you can click those words for a link) if you have the time you should check it out, it's very informative.