A Brief Look At PTSD, Covid And Motherhood

Happier times on a night out with my spouse “Honey, did you hear the zoo is open?” My spouse calls from the kitchen. I look around our two-bedroom condo cluttered with toys and think, Oh, to leave this house! But there’s panic, always panic, even before the onset of this pandemic. Can I manage? I’m groggy. In fact, I’m dizzy. Maybe it’s the strong coffee I gulped upon waking or the common symptom of my autoimmune disorder. I can feel the Synthroid lodge in my throat (a magical pill that kicks my thyroid into gear) and worry that I might have accidentally taken one extra. Pills make me nervous. Overdose is a continuous fear. My short-term memory loss is no joke. I forget what I've done the second I did it. I'm going to pass out! Am I dying? Do I have Covid? The room spins and the corners of my vision turns black, just like when a loved one strangled me, long ago. This is diagnosed Complex PTSD. Trauma. Life. I’m going to puke. Maybe I just need f