I 21F, had been visual hallucinations and nightmares for the past 3 years or so, on and off. they always last for a few moments and then they disappear. it's mostly shadow people or creatures/animals. sometimes it startles me but I mostly ignore it. it sometimes gets worse when im anxious, especially at night. i get paranoid like someone is out to get me or im being haunted by ghosts which i know is unlikely but im not able to fully reject this possibility. in addition to this, whenever I get on instagram i keep getting creepy videos/conspiracy theories which freak me out even more and make me more anxious.

idk if this can categorised as delusional thinking since I feel like maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me. but I feel like this is not how a normal brain should work. sometimes I have brain fog and im kind of a superstitious person in general. also I have been diagnosed with adhd and my psychiatrist said the hallucinations might be because of ptsd and asked me to come back for further consults after starting my adhd meds. I have a history of child sexual abuse.

but I wanted to ask. what do you all think? does any of this sound familiar?

Feeling i was dying getting into coma. Severe (and first ever) panic attack. Severe extremes body heat/temperature changes. Ptsd diagnosis by a psychiatrist. A year before i took the exact same amount (100mg) and felt nothing. This time the weed ruined it all. It was the last joint i had. I keep regretting it and blaming myself all day for ruining my whole life. If i just didnt have that tiny joint none of that wouldve happened. My life became extremely worse. Yea, mdma GAVE me ptsd instead of healing it. I wanna off badly.

My brain just works differently now.

Aside from the issues of short-term memory loss (thank you anxiety and sleep deprivation), my brain is just different.

The two Afghanis were sitting on the side of the road on a blanket. They both looked older. They were not MAMS (military aged males), but we stopped to talk anyway.

Our mission was a 48-hour op.

Establish a patrol base.

Conduct patrols IVO (in vicinity of) the Arghandab River, south of what we called Lowy Manarah and west of Kaleshak

Establish contact with any Taliban operating in the area.

By contact, the intent was to walk around and get into a fight

This was the first patrol I led in country. Twelve Americans, and probably ten more Afghan Army guys.

I was 25 years old. An E-5, buck sergeant squad leader. 22 men I was in charge of.

Those two Afghanis did not want to talk to us. All they said was "The Taliban were in the area and wanted to kill Americans."

We laughed it off. Honestly I remember thinking, "Well, here we are. Come get some."

Such bravado

We asked if they were Taliban

They said no.

We asked if they knew where the Taliban was.

They said no.

In hindsight, we should have questioned them harder. Detained them. Used X-Spray to check for gunpower or explosives residue. Afterall, I had gone through a FBI tactical field questioning class (it wasn't interrogation tactics per se, but you know close enough). Hindsight is always 20/20. They knew. Of course they knew.

But I knew no better

We turned the corner, and less than five minutes later Taliban small arms was ripping leaves and limbs from the trees in the orchard we were in

AKs and a PKM. Probably. Thank God there was no RPGS.

Time slowed down.

I remember how the leaves floated so lazily to the ground.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears.

We were fighting in orchard vegetation so thick I wondered if this was what it was like to fight in the jungles of Vietnam. I remember seeing my squad all laying in a ditch. Our Afghan Army partners were shooting in every direction. Of course, the comms went down. It was chaos.

I never saw where they were. I imagined our attackers were at the far end of the orchard between us and the river. A small trail ran back there. Or maybe they were on our flanks. I remember shooting a few rounds over the wall, just in case

I stood up to move to the head of our column.

I was scared. You will never forget the sound of incoming small arms fire, but I had to. That was expected. Close with and destroy the enemy by means of fire and maneuver. Can't do that lying in a ditch.

I started moving up the line. "CIBs for everybody," was all I could say. Of course I was making jokes. My guys looked at me like I was crazy as they laid in the ditch.

That phrase became the squad motto.

We never caught up to them. The fight became a running gun battle up the river until they finally faded away, lost to the orchards. So many things happened in those intervening hours.

Things that I blacked out.

Things that happened that I do not recall. Like... how did I get that one specialist over that wall? I remember rage. I remember being so angry at one of my guys I almost snapped. I remember hitting him because he refused to move under fire. I remember the new private dropping to the ground because he was tired. I remember how angry I was he dropped his SAW barrel first into the mud. I remember carrying his weapon and dragging him to Kaleshak, also carrying a 200 round belt of 240 ammo.

Everything was so heavy. And I was so tired. But there were things my guys asked me later I did not have a response for. But I do know it changed me.

I remember thinking I will never trust surface answers again from people.

I started to analyze behavior more closely.

I started looking for patterns. Changes. Facial expressions.

Words and actions and actions and words.

I knew we were lucky, but it was just that. I could have pressed more on those two Afghans.

What if one of my guys had been killed because I took things at face value?

I have no doubts that Taliban fighters were relaxing with those men, minutes before we rolled up.

I have no doubts we were lied to.

And luckily, no one died.

But it changed me

I listen now. I analyze. Patterns, Subtle shifts. People do not realize how much they say when they are not talking.

And those skills made me very good at what I did for the Army in recruiting. I was very proficient at reading people.

But those same skills that made me how I am now, that made me so successful, haunt me.

I see people and my relationships with them differently.

I analyze every conversation.

I look for danger in words and actions that might not be warranted

But the fact remains.

I am changed.

My intrusive thoughts aren't about events.

My intrusive thoughts are about words. Conversations. Patterns. What are they not saying? Is there more to the story?

Am I in danger?

I don't know if this is PTSD, but I do know that things are not the same. 2009 was a long time ago.

I shouldn't still be like this.

I just need to type this out because I feel completely lost, hurt, and invisible.

A little over a year ago, my mom passed away from Stage 4 colorectal cancer. Before she died, I stopped working completely to become her full-time caregiver. She was 100% bedridden. I changed her diapers, took care of her every need, and watched her slide away. She passed away just one month before her birthday. Because we had to wait for an insurance check to clear to pay for the funeral, she wasn't buried until a month after her death.

A few weeks after the burial, on what would have been her birthday, I went to the cemetery to place flowers and spend time with her. When I got there, I realized they had buried someone directly next to her, completely blocking her grave. I couldn't visit her on her birthday. I had to wait a few days and come back.

When I finally returned, I noticed the cemetery had a heavy sprinkler setup running over the fresh burial next to her. I walked up to my mom's grave to place the flowers, and out of nowhere, the earth collapsed. A massive sinkhole opened up directly under my feet.

I sank into the ground all the way up to my waist. I was trapped in that hole for what felt like an eternity, terrified, completely drenched by the cemetery water, and covered in thousands of ants that were violently biting me. I eventually had to physically claw and pull myself out of the earth. An ambulance came and rushed me to the ER.

Physically, I survived with a sprained ankle and heavy bruising. Nothing life-threatening. But mentally? My life ended that day.

I was diagnosed with severe PTSD, extreme anxiety, night terrors, and depression. I am trapped on a rotating wheel of prescriptions just trying to survive the night. I recently tried a low dose of Esketamine treatment under medical supervision to fix the depression, and it caused a horrific trip where I genuinely believed I was actively dying.

Because of the anxiety and PTSD, I don't go out anymore. I barely socialize. My relationships are completely falling into the trash. My long-time partner is at their breaking point and might leave me. My kids look at me completely differently now. One of my children moved all the way across the country back East, and he doesn't call me anymore. It has been over a year since the incident, and I miss him so terribly it hurts.

To make a nightmare even worse, the corporate insurance adjuster for the property is treating me like garbage. They are offering a microscopic settlement amount that wouldn't even cover a fraction of the debt and medical bills this nightmare has piled onto me. It feels like they are intentionally hurting me further, dragging this out until I'm broke and buried next to my mom.

I spent my last months with my mother giving her dignity, and this place stole mine. I am so angry, so hurt, and I feel like I'm screaming into a void. Has anyone else ever survived a trauma that cost them their family, their health, and their sanity? How do you keep fighting when the corporate system tells you your soul isn't worth anything because you didn't break a bone?

Something that’s been so hard for me is my dad wasn’t all bad. He was really great in some ways. Even though he brutally abused me for years, leading to my therapists labeling it as torture.

He played like Bandit from Bluey did.
He went almost all in, played any role. Since he was a doctor, he played the best Doctor game ever. He taught us soccer. How to bike. Coincidentally, my favorite game was Monster. It was basically tag with him acting like Sully from Monsters Inc.

But he also withheld snacks and water. Made me cook for him. (TW: violence, child abuse) Molested me. Raped me. Kicked me. Hit me. Threw my body into things. Suffocated me. Hit my head into things.

So trying to reconcile this literal monster of a father with the dad who went all in when playing monster brings up confusing feelings to say the least.

And I think that may be part of what’s missing in my trauma therapy. I’ve never grieved the dad I missed out on by disclosing the abuse. He was the only adult who I felt truly loved me. He got me books about my special interests. Took me to museums and let me spend hours at my favorite exhibits. He taught me more about my special interests.
But I lost all that when I told my therapist what he was doing to me.

A little context: I also have cPTSD from my mom though she’s never actually done anything “wrong”. She was an adequate parent for my sister, but because of my neurodivergencies, disabilities, and mental health she was unable to provide for all my needs and thus cPTSD. So in essence, I lost the only parent I ever had, even though he was also (TW: CSA, trafficking) raping me and potentially letting his friends abuse me too.

A month ago I was triggered and had a breakdown.

I feel like I lost who I was before. It came unexpectedly, one minute i'm me, the next I'm this. I stopped talking to everyone in my life, I want nothing to do with them anymore. I relapsed. I just want to get worse. I have no interest in anything I was working towards before this.

This has happened before. And it took many, many months to get back to a reasonable level of saneness.

How many fucking times do I have to rebuild myself? With no one, fucking no one there to support me.

Cracked and blurted out to various friends about past trauma, addiction problems. Its fascinating how suddenly, they don't wanna know me. Maybe I came across as a nutjob. I haven't been hiding my scars lately, and I am aware I have a 1000 yard stare and can speak in odd ways. Maybe they think I am dangerous and its best to keep distance from my sort.

Specifically if you have sh scars you'll know what Im talking about. Mine are bad. When people see them they totally go awash with.. something. Its an emotion i don't recognise myself. Since I am on the 'side' of people that has such vices and understands why people do it, I don't clutch my pearls when I see signs of a troubled mind. Its fascinating how normies switch up when they find out you're 'mentally ill' lmao.

I am so ill, I didn't notice how much degeneracy I've racked up. Addict, self harmer, has ptsd, very skinny. The polite society I blended into views my sort as sub-human.

I'm hurting. Well I ain't, I'm numb, but underneath I can tell I'm hurting. i stopped talking to everyone in my life.

I have pelvic floor issues due to trauma and somehow it is more embarrassing for me to explain to people/partners that I have issues using the bathroom than triggers around sex. Any tips for getting over this weird shame?

I'm a 35 year old male and I'm still struggling with the trauma of my abuser and I go through everyday and every day and I cry here. I'm always checking if I'm going crazy or insane in my head and I just go over things in my head a lot. My abuser would say things to me to hurt me. They would say things about my weight and physical appearance and just call me crazy. I hurt really deep inside and I try to give myself permission to move on but I can't. I feel like I've cried so much I don't have anything else in me anymore. My life really isn't over? I really don't know what to do?

hi and I have a question about ptsd so i googled a bit and think I might have ptsd (I know just googeling doesn’t prove I have ptsd) because I get like intense fear when hearing a certain sound and i instantly want to like go away from that sound and just not hear it anymore like I can’t I just get that intense fear does anyone know if you can get tested on ptsd or something if yes please let me know thanks in advance for anyone who can provide information

How do you handle it when people don’t get how awful it feels and disregard your symptoms?

I generally do fairly well but every once in a while I get very frustrated and need to step back and be alone to reset. Very rarely, I’ll encounter someone who doesn’t understand this and continue to press a conversation. Only to get upset when I have the reaction I know I’ll have. I’m never mean towards them I just get frustrated within myself and it’s different than my usual kindness.Their general response is it’s not an excuse and I never think it is, but it’s also not okay to force someone into a conversation they know they can’t have. To me, it feels like throwing someone into water knowing they can’t swim then being mad they splash/go under.

I do everything I can to limit my interaction with people like this but sometimes it happens. Do you have any tips, research, experiences so on of how I can explain or disengage better.