Soldier of (bad) Fortune

I enter the school with a brand new doctor and a brand spanking new disorder. PTSD. Isn't that just for wounded soldiers? It makes it sound like I'm coming back from Iraq, fresh from a bombing where I lost my two best friends and an arm. It doesn't make me sound like a very tired, very scared 16 year old girl. PTSD makes me sound like I've been through more than I have, and I sort of like that. It makes me feel braver than I actually am. I use the word as both a shield and a mask.

I'm going to tear off a corner of the mask for you, though. PTSD is not only for wounded soldiers. It is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and anyone who has been through a trauma (like lucky little me) can develop it. What does it mean? It means that I'm jumpier than I should be, easier to startle. I'm always on high alert for danger, real or imagined. I have dreams that I wish I could wake up from. Oh, and you know those scenes in crime shows where the amnesiac has vivid flashbacks of clips of what happened? You guessed it! It's not all for drama.

This is my life.

Hair of the Dog is a better band than it is a drink...

...not that I've tried it.

So, I'm supposed to talk about my feelings to the safe anonymity of the internet. I've never been so good with feelings, though. Other people's, sure, but my own have always been a problem. Nasty, messy things. They've always been best left alone. Here are the facts:
I am 16.
I am 5'6"
I weigh more than I should.
I drink much more Diet Coke than I should.
I have just been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and post traumatic stress disorder. Quite a mouthful, huh?

This is my life.
Want to hear more? Let's take it one day (or disorder) at a time.