I came to Bend this weekend.  I come as often as I can.  I found after Jesse and Bella died, it was one of the only places that I felt peaceful.  This weekend, no one is here but me.  I often remember the times when the girls were running around the house, making all kinds of ruckus, all I wanted was peace and quiet. After, I kept myself so busy, distracted, to the point of exhaustion, the first time I was alone in the house, I almost lost my mind. We adapt. We cannot survive as a species otherwise. I mostly can do it now. In fact, I now need it. When I have seen a lot of patients, been “on” in the world, when the city is particularly loud, I need that counterbalance of quiet. My system is constantly on adrenaline overload, waiting for that next shoe to drop, it’s the PTSD. I have learned that being in quiet sorta calms it down a bit, more like it doesn’t add to it. That being said, when one is quiet, the mind becomes loud. Within that loud, not all the time, but often enough, flashbacks occur. That can come in any shape or form, from what I found that night, to the leading up, to the after, to anything my mind can conjure up.

So, it’s part of the many dichotomies that I encounter now. Try to neutralize the constant adrenaline coursing through me, with quiet, knowing well that it can backfire at any moment. I think that is why I come here as often as I can.  It is consistently one of the few places where my body can calm down a bit, my mind  unencumbered by flashbacks, and I can be peaceful.  For this, I am grateful.