Alcoholic mother and father.

Father died when I was ten, her drinking got worse. She removed herself emotionally and physically from the house.

I was pretty much raised at that point by a house full of junkies, two of which were my brothers, who are both dead now because of heroin. My house was a drug dealer's hang out. (which comes with its own set of problems) Sometimes I was left in charge of the "stash." At eleven that was terrifying. At twelve it meant freebies.

Although I wasn't officially diagnosed with PTSD as a child, (mother was told I was a "nervous child") I look back and shake my head. I clearly see the signs as far back as nine years old. Ahhh. That is what was/is wrong with me.

The problem I am finding now is that because my body has been in a PTSD stance, ready and waiting for danger or death for so long, I cannot let go of the tension. No matter what.