PTSD

You know when your husband leaves the house and you say goodbye, and you're then wracked with fear that he's going to get rear-ended by a semi on the highway and that peck on his cheek will be the last kiss you ever give him? How about fears that someone will slam into the passenger side of your car and kill your child while she's munching on cheddar bunnies in the back seat.  Or what if she's hit by a careless speeding driver next to her house while she's playing in the front yard. Or perhaps your number's up and you'll be hit by random gunfire while walking down the street, leaving your kindergarten-aged daughter motherless.

These aren't the sick thoughts that flash through your brains, say, every day?  Just me?

I've mentioned before that I have always been on the neurotic side, but honestly, this is getting debilitating and exhausting.

The only "comforting" piece of information in this:  I am not alone.  A quick survey on one of my support boards found a tribe of women who are also struggling with seemingly irrational fears of death and destruction.  The world around us is frightening and violent and clearly out for vengeance on us and our loved ones. My heart aches thinking about anyone else who is living this way, but at least I am not completely on the train to crazy town. There is reason why my brain is firing on these awful cylinders. The trauma runs deep.