The hardest thing about loving someone with PTSD is the unpredictability, you will literally be tested in ways you never thought possible. one minute, you’re having a normal conversation, the next, you’re trying to put together a puzzle in the dark.
It’s hell loving you, but I’ve gone through hell for less.
I never understood PTSD, to be honest, I never cared, that’s until I met a woman that’s plagued by it.
When I write, my characters tell me what direction they want to go, my fingers are their vehicle, if I don’t agree, I shut it down. When I hold this woman after she’s fallen to pieces, it’s not that simple. I have no idea what triggers it, each episode is unique, and a simple “It’s going to be okay” doesn’t work.
Loving someone with PTSD is hell, imagine what living with it must be like?