Sunday, April 5, 2009

Fight or flight

Lately, I feel like I've been moving through a swamp made of honey or something like it. I just feel out of it, out of step with the world. I have all these weird dreams (I should really start writing them down) and sleep in fits and starts. Often I'll fall back asleep after Mr. Salted goes to work, and it's really deep sleep where I dream and dream and dream and I wake up and say, "WTF was THAT?"

Today I was vacuuming the kitchen with the handheld vacuum and trying to empty the filter--it's bagless--and I was getting it everywhere and getting more and more pissed off. Vacuuming pisses me off anyway, and I was making a bigger mess. Mr. Salted appeared behind me out of nowhere. He knows not to come up behind me suddenly, and I don't think he had, but for some reason I didn't register he was there at all and I just screamed bloody murder, scared us both, and was purely honest-to-God terrified. It was a total fight-or-flight moment worse than any I've had in a while, and I totally snapped at him and had to go lie down and calm myself. I've been drained ever since. I apologized for snapping but still feel amoeba-sized. G*d#$% PTSD.

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Seattle, WA, United States
This blog focuses largely on a personal journey to and through weight-loss surgery. It's also about reading, writing, animals, photography, love, humor, music, thinking out loud, and memes. In other
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