No, I've not been officially diagnosed by a pdoc. But a therapist years ago agreed. And I've done enough research online. Not at Joe Blow's blog, try the Mayo Clinic and the NIH for starters. I meet the criteria for PTSD.

It's true that you as a child gravitate to your abuser. I did. It wasn't sexual abuse. It was verbal and physical abuse.

I thought that I had it completely buried to never see the light of day again. But my effing upstairs neighbor triggered me. First time that I've ever been triggered. Normally people stomping around above my head would just piss me off. Not that night.

It sat me straight up in bed. I grabbed my head and started bawling uncontrollably. Damn near fell out of bed. I almost started screaming for my grandma to please stop. To not beat me. That I was sorry and that I wouldn't do it again. I was no longer a middle aged man. I was again that helpless 6yr old boy.

I was a bed wetter. And that damn stomping brought back the memories of grandma stomping down the hall. Of course the bed was wet. She'd grab a handful of hair and a cheek of my azz and rip me out of bed and slam me on the floor. Or she might launch herself and land in the middle of me. She wasn't a small woman. She was fat. It's a wonder she didn't break my back.

After that, she would have her face (red with rage) about 6 inches from mine screaming in my face. Screaming how much of a "worthless c0cksucker" that I was. I went through that every single summer for several summers. It was imprinted on my brain forever.

And now I have her twisted angry screaming face in my mind several times a day. Screaming how worthless I am. And I have started believing it (long before this).

The genie has escaped the bottle. As if 20yrs of depression wasn't enough to deal with. Now this damn demon has drilled it's ugly head into existence. The hole I had it buried in wasn't deep enough I guess.