Aww Schatze...thanks for the hugs.

The whole thing is so deeply rooted.

Most of my PTSD is precisely for this reason, watching people overdosing and being hauled away in ambulances. Never being sure if they were just nodding out with the needles still stuck in their veins, or if they were dead. It's truly more about those times as a kid, then about them dying in adulthood.

(My brothers lasted another twenty, twenty-five years after the above mentioned time, so it was a long ride in hell for all)

It is hard to stay present and not be carried off to being twelve years old screaming "there's something wrong with so-and-so" in my full blown PTSD state of childhood.

I haven't flashbacked.

I don't hyperventilate.

I just dread.

Petunia