Every day I wake up hyperventilating. I drop my son off at school and then cry in my car until I have the strength to cancel my plans for the day to go drink at home
Posted Oct 8, 2019 08:11 by anonymous
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4 comments
I have ptsd and I just can't forget
Every second of every day I remember
Sometimes I scream until I throw up
I can't afford therapy
I don't have family or friends
I have 30 dollars to my name because I haven't been to work in weeks. I am so overwhelmed by the thought of being out of the house that I know I will kill myself in my car on the way there if I try
I go to the crisis centres but it doesn't help
Now I have 30 dollars and all I want is to close my eyes and not open them again
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Commented Jun 18, 2021 15:02 by Jonson32
What happened that gave you PTSD? Can you speak or type about it without getting triggered? (Like, say, are you a military veteran?)
Commented Jun 18, 2021 15:30 by anonymous
“What happened that gave you PTSD? Can you speak or type about it without getting triggered? (Like, say, are you a military veteran?)”
She probably sucked her daddies dick and belatedly got triggered fifteen years after the last blowie.
Commented Aug 4, 2021 18:39 by Jonson32
“She probably sucked her daddies dick and belatedly got triggered fifteen years after the last blowie.”
How the hell do u even the OP's a she? For all we know, it could be a he. Perhaps (gasp!) a widower whose wife's death gave him PTSD?
Commented Feb 28, 2022 09:36 by anonymous
During a rough time that few knew about, my hot older sister would sometimes call off work, both her full and part-time jobs, I'd go to her apartment, we'd talk, drink, have sex all day, then go out for a nightcap drink somewhere, usually one town over. There were times I'd get to the apartment, and she'd already be half in the bag, telling me about her problems, this one, that one, and could only talk to me, only wanted and was good with our having sex, didn't want anyone else to fuck her, and we'd match each other with drinking in the apartment. Got bad for awhile, and one night, in a drunk rant, was talking about all of her clothes, why do I have so many, and put on a few shirts, then told me to tear them off of her so she could throw them out. If they were ruined, and I tore them off her body, she couldn't keep them. We did that to a few button-down shirts, she said it felt good, then a v-cut sweatshirt that I took from the v and ripped fully open. There was something about the clothes thing for her, getting rid of them, and having me tear them off of her. Made her feel good that she was pleasing me. The booze had a lot to do with it, but we got through it all. I've gotten drunk with her since, but never like the day and night-long, drunk, fuck like animals, and tear clothes off her body days.