I remember three years ago, I had just closed on my house, and my brother in law was helping me paint before we moved everything in. It was the 4th of July and we were working into the night trying to get Raffi’s room done so that she would feel more “at home” after everything that had happened. I remember vividly the first explosions of the night as dusk fell.  My heart started to pound frantically in my chest and I had my first real instance of what PTSD was. 

I was not there when Jesse killed Maribella then himself, but I arrived soon-ish thereafter. I first thought it was poison, as I did not see the gun. But after I learned that they died by his gun, my mind went to work. To tell someone who had someone die tragically not to think about the details, or the how’s, is laughable.  I replay the days leading up and that day over and over in my head. I imagine the last moments of my daughters life. Over and over and over.

I grew up around guns, shot them up in Maine for fun, and had no issues with Jesse having one. He was responsible, took the classes one needs to on safety, etc. I know what a gun sounds like.

Back to that first 4th of July, just shy of two months after they died, every time I heard a firework off in the distance or close, it made me think of a gunshot. My PTSD works in a way that sudden loud noises affect me as well as sights and sounds that I experienced around their death. I am not sure from a diagnosable psychological point of view what imagined or superimposed sounds are, but that is what happens to me when I hear a firework. My heart beats rapidly, my body starts to shake, and I want to curl into a ball and cry. It varies in intensity, but that is the jist.

Facebook in its memories of today, reminds me the past couple of years have been hard. The theme is, yup, the 4th still sucks. I have been hoping this year with all the wonderful influxes it has contained, would be different. However the past few nights have given me a preview that it may not. It is now 710pm and I am awaiting the onslaught of sounds. I have heard one or two and my heart skipped a beat. My hope at this point is that with all of the projects we have done the past few days, I will be so exhausted it won’t affect me like usual. This was a working weekend for my boyfriend and I.  I am helping him paint his house (yes, I know, I am an awesome girlfriend!), and while he is doing things I can’t help with, I am re-landscaping the front yard, which is very meditative and calming for me, unless I am dealing with the fucking ground cover that is evil. We have worked our butts off over the past three days, collapsing into bed each night barely reading a page in our books before falling asleep. Last night was harder for me as I heard fireworks going off, but luckily they stopped. I have found time and time again that hard physical activity can shut my brain off. So. Now that it is 745pm, and I have heard more fireworks going off, I have shut the house down, turned the fan on high, and I am going to sign off on this blog and take care of myself. Please dear readers, please think of people who may be affected by the 4th of July fireworks, please reach out and ask if they are ok.

We painted the entire garage and the side of the house

You can’t quite tell the scope of this project, but this is a corner that I cleared, plus we took down a huge unhealthy bush in the back of this