OE, I completely understand when you say "I literally 'live' where the trauma happened" - because with my debacle, it was also on "home turf" for the most part - the doctor I went to is only a few miles from work in one direction, the hospital is literally about 2 miles from my office in the other direction. Fortunately, both are 90 degrees away from my daily commute route, so I don't have to go past either every last day - if I did, I know that would be very difficult, as with your farm, when I do go to those areas, it triggers bad memories and bad feelings.

As adverse as I was to the hospital, I have gone back there, in a different capacity, as a patient for a vastly different medical specialty, integrative medicine - all part of my quest to "fix myself" and get over all of this. And, after I had known that doctor for a couple of visits, I told her that she was the hospital's opportunity to redeem itself in my eyes. I still see her every few months. It is still difficult to go into the hospital complex, and I purposely use the far entrance off of a different road from where I entered to go to the day hospital program. This is an enormous place, and the area I go to now is on the far side of the complex from where I had to go in 2012. But, it STILL bothers me.

One thing that really freaks me out, but I have forced myself - going into their cafeteria and food court. When I was in the day program for three long weeks (well, 14 actual days of reporting, plus weekends in between), they gave us cafeteria vouchers every day, which I used part of the time, other times I would go to the food court or go out to a restaurant close by. But, in the cafeteria, there were several "checkout" lanes, and one was always staffed by an older, very gracious, very sweet and pleasant African American lady. At that time, I was so profoundly lost and hopeless and upset that I sought out any gesture of kindness, so I would make sure I always got into her line even if it was longer. She would always have some pleasant comment, made me feel better for just a second, even though I was sure I had "MENTAL PATIENT" stamped across by back and forehead and that everyone "knew" and was watching me, waiting to stand and accuse me in the manner of the scene from 'Jesus Christ Superstar' when the citizens of Jerusalem shout out "Crucify Him" (NOT that I'm comparing myself to Christ in any way except as an example of what I thought people would want done to me for my "violations of the rules of society").

And of course, I still live in the very same town that was the scene for my nightly rambles which were based out of emotional and physical exhaustion, fear, despair, and hopelessness.

Even to this day, one thing that REALLY gets to me, that I have to deal with almost weekly - the route home from my therapist's office is the same route, in part, as that I took home the fateful day the psychiatrist "sentenced" me to the day hospital. And, it goes right by an old courthouse, which stands literally right on the street, separated only by parallel parking spots and a wide sidewalk. Except, that old courthouse was sold decades ago by the county, and it is now the local homeless shelter. Where homeless men mill about in the evenings, waiting to be let in for the night. And, driving home that day in August, 2012, I was sure that that was my fate, to end up homeless, broke, sick, scared, essentially "damned". Seeing those men that late afternoon, milling around on a beautiful, cool summer day with white puffy clouds in blue sky, a fresh breeze, just a beautiful day, was a sight I will NEVER forget. And, going by there just takes me back to that place. I still do it, it's the "practical" route, and part of me believes that it is "desensitization" to pass by these places, but OTOH, I know my experiment in "exposure therapy" last year was a pretty dismal failure, it just made me worse.

Yup, this is pretty awful, it sucks, and people, even such as my therapist, don't seem to "get it" when it comes to certain aspects of it. I say that, until they've had it, they can never fully understand what it is like.