Fatigue

Just a week after getting them, and my sneakers are already scuffed. I see that as a triumph. I'm meeting my goals as I set them, breaking down what I want to do per day. I was never a lists sort of person before PTSD entered our lives, but I sure am now. So far, keeping a list of daily To Do's is what's keeping me on track. The other day, I got out of the house and went to a tanning salon (no judgements, I only go a couple times a year) that was running a special, so I was able to do it for free. I love free, especially on our tight budget. But even if I hadn't been able to get my dose of vitamin D, I still would have gotten out of the house, because frankly I was ready to pull my hair out.

It started with a sleepless night thanks to the neighbor's dog and an overactive imagination. Secondary PTSD is no joke when it keeps you checking windows and doors because your mind keeps turning over the idea that the neighbor's gigantic Mastiff doesn't just bark for no reason, and he never has. That drama bled into an early morning with a baby up and hungry at a quarter after five, and then a breakfast meltdown, courtesy of two kids wanting two different things to eat. After the chaos calmed down a bit, Squee suggested that I go take the coupon from the mailer to the tanning place and take a moment for myself. Normally, I wouldn't. I would say no, find an excuse to stay home or invent a reason I couldn't do something for myself that day. Instead, I jumped at the chance.

But, you know what? I needed to. My less than a hour out break turned out to be one of the most relaxing things I've done all week, and I have been sticking to my promise of taking time for me every day, especially now.

Last week, hubby was put on a new medication for his blood pressure, which is making him absolutely exhausted. So, he's having to take naps when it hits him like a sledge hammer, and I understand why he needs them. Fatigue is a large part of PTSD, sometimes caused by the condition itself and other times caused by the medications used to combat PTSD symptoms. For us, easy fatigue is a daily part of life.

We learned to deal with the fatigue monster early on, when medications got the best of Squee, and then later when medicines no longer worked at all, and sleep happened only in snippets stolen throughout the day,but never the night. It seemed as though insomnia set in about the same moment the sky grew dark and rest couldn't come until it was daylight again. But it was better, I supposed, than the dreams.

I wince now writing about them, those demons that came crawling back for him when he had a moment to close his eyes. Squeeze talks in his sleep often, and has been in a number of flashbacks while doing so. He doesn't recall these dreams, they are his worst nightmares con to life, and I'm grateful when his mind protects him enough to lose the memory of those dreams, but I still loathe the fact that he has them. When fatigue takes ahold of him though, and grips him tight, he doesn't dream, and that is a blessing.

So during my 'off' time, I lay in the tanning bed "soaking up some vitamin D and generally being alone with my thoughts, and I realize that the real allure of a tanning bed isn't the 'afterglow' but the simple and absolute peace and quiet you get when you combine the sound of the bed itself, the fans going to keep you cool, and the ever-present background music tuned to the soft rock /power ballad /hair band station. It's a mindless kind of quiet, and kind of intoxicating. I imagined myself on a sandy beach somewhere, watching Squee teach Siren and Banshee how to build sandcastles while Echo sweetly tore them down. I smiled a little. For a moment, I was there. I had dipped my toes in the  water as I swung Echo up onto my hip. Banshee wanted desperately to show me a shell she'd found, and Siren was attached to Squee's hip again, wanting to know more about dolphins and what she refers to as "big fish". And that moment was delicious. Until my time was up.
The machine cut off, though it was fair to say I'd had a warning, I'd just folded it into my daydream as a cellphone beep and both daydream me and real me chose not to heed the warning. You see, we've never been able to have a family vacation like that, and I know both Squee and I wonder if we'll ever be able to have a family beach vacation, if we'll give our girls the typical family experiences, or if we're doomed to stay inside our shells and by doing so, encouraging them to remain introverted too. These are the things that go through my mind when it's idle, like the moment of indecision when you can't seem to force yourself up off the tanning bed because it's still warm and the air directly outside is much cooler. Eventually though, even I have to admit it's time to stop thinking and get my rear in gear.

Slightly colder since coming quite rudely inside from my fantasy on the beach, I got dressed quickly and cleaned up, and left with a wave goodbye to a busy front desk clerk. Less than an hour out of the house, but my head felt so much clearer, my migraine had almost dissipated, and I felt like I had more energy. Fatigue doesn't just strike our Veterans, you see. Fatigue is a very real enemy of the Vet Spouse, one that I often grapple with, but a little rejuvenation (and time to sleep in on occasion) goes a LONG way in how you feel.