"Well I jumped into the river
Too many times to make it home
I'm out here on my own, an drifting all alone
If it doesn't show give it time
To read between the lines"
An excerpt from one of my all-time favourites, and now gaining some genuine understanding from my side. I always liked the song itself for the melancholy and tragedy reflecting, but never understood the actual meaning of the words themselves.
Let's check out what this word actually means:
ESTRANGED - adjective
(of a person) no longer close or affectionate to someone; alienated.
PTSD in my situation comes with an intense need for solitude, isolation. Shrinks call it dissociative behavior. Whatever it's called, I feel it's dividing my personality in two, it shreds your mind and all of a sudden all of your decisions have to be made between the two guys spinning in my head. Like in Tom & Jerry, where Jerry has the good angel and the bad devil on his shoulders
Each day, I'm waking up either from a dreamless, drugged sleep or a dreadful world full of nightmares and ridiculous thoughts. After waking up, I'm taking a big breath to suppress the little devil inside myself, preparing myself for the day coming between people, full of triggers and alerts. What is professionally called dissociative behavior I would define as building a concrete wall bigger and stronger than the Great Wall of China. It prevents me from harm, and lets me pretend to be pretty normal.
I've just started to work in a completely new environment, almost noone knows something strange happened to me, and that's the way it's supposed to be. It defends me from being triggered. At home though, it simply doesn't work.
My lovely wife, who is my last Tower of Defense in my life is suffering a lot. On the FD (I hope you remember) she was pregnant with our second child; she was not even sure if I'm going to live.
Afterwards and throughout the whole period until today (-and ongoing), she is feeling pretty unsettled, insecure. Which is natural, she is taking care of our kids. I do so as well, at least it feels like I'm doing something, but it simply isn't me at work. It's the little angel on my shoulder who is suppressing my devil to isolate myself.
We don't speak much at home eversince. No serious topics, merely speak about things which happened at kindergarten, or at home with the baby, but no things from inside. Mind is numb at home. For both of us. Why? Re-read the first excerpt of the G'n'R song. We are estranged. Our minds are linked but stretched by a silken elastic thread. We both try hard, we do our best, we need to keep together for the sake of our kids. Will the thread become steel and short again? Will it tear at a sudden moment? I don't know. I genuinely hope not. I love you, my dear wife...
