Living with PTSD is an ongoing learning experience. And it’s the little things that set me off, or make my day difficult.

Nightmares are the worst.

Take for instance this hellacious nightmare I had a few nights ago. I don’t recognize the building that I was in, I don’t even remember recognizing any of the people that I was with. The building was crowded, and for some reason I knew we were on the first floor and there were two floors above us. I don’t know if it was a disaster of some kind of an explosion, or tornado, but for whatever reason the building collapsed on top of us.

I can feel it. Still.

The ceiling tiles, the concrete surrounding me, the sticky blood from everyone around me, whose voices I couldn’t hear because they’d all been silenced. I knew where the steel beams were. I knew I was suffocating.

And I couldn’t find my way out.

It would be different if this nightmare wasn’t following me around all day now every day. The feeling of being trapped, of being unable to breathe, has made its way inside my brain, and it won’t let go.

And I’m so tired.

I wish I could just fall asleep. But even with my sleeping meds, my body is refusing to let go. It’s startling awake so that I don’t find myself in that building again, so that I don’t feel the crushing weight, so I don’t feel like I’m dying.

And all of this from one simple nightmare that my PTSD has latched onto.