PTSD

I'm losing control of my body functions. First, the hysterical-laughing-while-friend-falls-humiliating-herself-in-front-of-fifty-people, and then laughing-even-harder-all-day-just-thinking-about-it, and now this.

A couple of months ago, I experienced something so vile, so mind-bending, that I didn't even realize the damage done to my psyche at the time. Now, I can see clearly what has been done to me, and I've self-diagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You see, I keep reliving this event, and every time I do, my visceral reaction gets worse and worse.

Here's what happened. I was sitting with several other folks, chatting, when I noticed that one of them had something happening in the nasal region. Okay, it was a booger, and quite visible to me. As this person talked, the booger became more and more visually prominent, and I found myself unable to look away. My chest tightened as the greenish-whitish substance succumbed to the force of gravity, showing its massive size. I felt fear. Real fear.

The booger sufferer was gradually realizing what I was all-too-aware of. Something had to be done, but what? What? I regret to inform you that after some face-wiggling and swipes with the hand, this -- object -- was suddenly closer to the mouth than the nose. And then ... as I watched in terror and the rest of the world fell away, the mucusy blob disappeared into the mouth forever. I now know that I went into a state of semi-shock, as my limbs went cold and numb and my brain froze up. My gorge rose a little, but I was able to force the urge to puke down. I was finally able to look away and try to immediately begin the process of erasing the memory.

But it wouldn't go. It's been lurking there in the recesses of my brain. Yesterday, I made the mistake of recalling this event and attempting to recount it to a friend. As she listened, open-mouthed, I tried over and over to get the words out, "it went...it went... it..." Each time I tried to describe the final descent, I doubled over as my stomach cramped and I gagged. Real gagging, I mean. I began to wish that I would just go ahead and vomit, to end the spasms. It was horrific. Not realizing how close I was, she rubbed my back and soothed me. I finally was able to whisper the words, "it went in his mouth." Once it was out, I felt a bit better, but oh, the horror, the horror.

Today, I tried to tell someone else the story of the two events in an attempt to understand what was happening to me. As you might expect, it did not go well. The half-puking urge returned, and I began to half-laugh as well, at which time I went into a choking/coughing fit that tore the hell out of my throat.

So, I've learned my lesson. Obviously, I must never tell this story verbally again. Typing this, I must tell you, dear reader, that my throat is swelling and my stomach is churning, but it's a little easier than trying to speak it aloud. I'm staying near the bathroom, just in case I finally hurl, though. My fervent wish today is that, knowing what I know about the dangers of reliving this event, I can now begin the healing process and that no one I love ever goes through what I've gone through.