Personal Expression of PTSD

(Lived Experience)

PTSD is turning on the hot water and stepping inside.
Seeing the steam. Feeling it.
But the water isn't felt.

Your eyes burn from the steam.
You catch yourself watching your skin turn red.
You don't feel it.

You are numb.
Everything is lived.
Nothing is experienced.

PTSD is sliding onto the floor
wishing the water could get hotter
to actually feel something.

It's knowing your mind is off wandering somewhere
while your body has to stay put.

It's feeling and sensing
but not hearing or understanding —
like a complete stranger, dazed in real time.

It's wishing you knew who you were
without having to find which key unlocks the door.

Is the trigger just another key
added to the chains you're already holding?
That's crippling to carry.

It's seeing and hearing things you can't remember
but you know happened.

Like organizing a million pieces of torn paper
into a masterpiece.

It's losing yourself at any given moment —
forgetting the route,
tasting copper for no reason.

It's thinking you'll be okay
until the next trigger.

The added key.
The loss of control over your own life.

It's hearing the bathroom door bang
like an alarm going off —
and realizing you weren’t fully there.