Leaving on a Jet Plane

I'm on my first trip w/ Mike. He is sitting spaciously up in first class; I'm sitting behind in "Average Joe" class. He offered to forfeit his seat and sit with me but I really am glad he did not , as I'm appreciating the alone time, the quietness. I am, also, feeding off the anxious excitement of the US Army soldier sitting next to me.

The soldier is returning home to his 4 beautiful kids for the first time in over a year; Unfortunately, his trip will be brief, as he hasto return overseas again soon. He has been traveling since 5am; It is now after 8pm as I write this. I do not see a lot of weariness in him. He is fidgety and jumpy ready to be home in Texas.

Back to Michael...He has put up with me for 3 months now in person, 7 total. He is probably the number one reason my PTSD recovery is going so well. Mike gets me excited about things in life again. He makes me want to go out and leave the house and couch. We constantly try new things (ie. food and entertainment) and meet new people...All the things I have been afraid of for so long. He has helped me find the world I once knew and was destined to find again. The difference is I get to do it with him and the constant smile on his face, and with a constant smile on mine.

I still fade into my dark place when I am alone, but my place is not quite as lonely any more. I still wonder if he is influencing the change or if I am doing this completely alone and for me. I, also, fear whether I can do this, maintain this change alone without Mike, without the drugs (currently Cymbalta, Lexapro, Lunesta, Neurontin, Toprol XL, and a GABA supplement).

We are flying over the clouds now. I see puffy white forever and the sunset fading down into the clouds. I question if this is what the after life is going to look like.

When our plane was taking off, all I could think about was the plane crashing. Not in a fearful way, but a matter of fact way. I still have the same thoughts driving the windy bluff roads by my house; I have vivid images of just driving off the road to my demise (probably a slow painful death), but I'm not scared. It will be how I'll some day die. What good meanings would life have without death?

Quick Disclaimer: This is verbal diarrhea from my head...My chaotic brain venting.