How’d you sleep?

I kind of hate that question. The answer never changes, even if I seem to be “doing better.”

That’s part of PTSD. I relive the trauma. It’s not always as bad, sometimes it’s like I’m right back there that night. Other nights I can wake myself up from it.

But a lot of people don’t seem to understand. I can sleep seven hours a night and still wake up exhausted. It wasn’t restful. If you look at my Apple watch info, the heart rate part, you’ll see that it’s completely not normal to have 100 bpm when lying motionless in bed.

Answering that question with the truth though makes people uncomfortable. Because how do you respond to an answer like, “I didn’t sleep good, like any other night. I had nightmares if I finally slept at all. Otherwise I was awake and tossing and turning and flinching at every shadow and creak. Or my anxiety kept me up reminding me of all the stupid things I’ve done and said in my entire life. Thanks for asking. How was yours?”

Eventually it just starts to feel like I’m complaining to everyone all the time. So I’ve learned to lie. I smile and say, “Fine, thanks. You?” Part of my mental health issues has the side effect of making sure the people around me aren’t made uncomfortable by me and my truths.

PTSD is a bitch, ain’t it?

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