PTSD stays living rent free 🥹

Fuck, why does this hurt so badly. A simple “Ouch”, doesn’t even describe this pain. Every inch I move I wail in pain, tears just fall down my face uncontrollably. Why, why won’t it just stop? Where is….”Never-mind, just stop Jess,” I told myself. The self destruction continued. The physical pain was excruciating and the intense feeling of nausea just wouldn’t fucking go away. Autopilot. Internally and mentally. 

A chest tube. What the hell is that. I’m tightly bandaged on my left side—like I’m pretty sure it’s serain wrapped around my shoulder and my chest with limited movement. It fucking hurts so bad my body just forms tears on its own. Having zero control, I’m helpless. Just listen & try to comprehend. Scared, sick to my stomach, am I even going to live through this, mentally can I even fucking handle this anymore. The doctor is speaking but it’s going in one ear & out the other until I hear them say “your body is too weak to make it through another surgery, it has to be done bedside.” How much more physical pain can my body endure I thought. But why did I question the scarring 🤦🏽‍♀️ Another scar to add to my back. I fucking hate scars and I already have one on my back. & ofc it has to be placed on the right side. Sleep really isn’t in my future…fucking anywhere, neither is comfort. I close my eyes tightly, it’s got to be a nightmare. Open them again, it’s definitely a nightmare, just a real life nightmare. 

Where the hell is the pain medicine? & why hasn’t the nurse gotten control on the IV to dispense the fentanyl. As much as I value these doctors I just need them to be quiet & get it over with. Please! Mentally and physically I was tapped. As I squeezed who was in front of me, the agonizing pain of the tube breaking the skin, severing different nerves left it hard to breathe. Tears just rolled down my face. Helpless. I was so helpless. I pleaded for it to just stop. The thoughts were so loud & all I wanted was the control button to the pain medication.

Fighting through the pain, slowly opening my eyes again to more defeat. But, hey at least I had a good view being able to look outside and see the entire Tampa Bay. Little was I aware of just how much of a fight I was about to be up against.

2.5 years later & another surgery surfaces…quickly approaching…The anxiety, the uncertainty, the uneasiness, the work I’ve put into my health and body, but I repeat to myself it’s localized, not as invasive or complex, what could go wrong. The what could go wrong longs onto the unsettling PTSD in the pit of my stomach. 2 different body strengths, 2 different mindsets, but the same heart that’s caused strain. 

Psalm 34:18

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit