Every year I like to take my nephew out for Halloween as it gives me the chance to feel like a kid again by putting on a costume. This year I wore a Hulk costume as I’ve enjoyed being strong superhero type characters ever since I started battling PTSD.
A big issue I have when it comes to being triggered is when I’m feeling quite anxious or feeling cornered, and then someone invades my personal space by touching me or sometimes just coming too close to me. I’m not a big fan of close talkers. Most of the time I’m okay with people I know putting their hands on my back or my arm and things like that. But when I’m feeling anxious, it pretty much doesn’t matter who you are, unless you’re someone very non-threatening to me like my nephews or little kids in general, or family-friends that I trust. If you’re not in that category, then all bets are off, and unfortunately, that’s what happened on Halloween.
I’ve known Mr. Julian Rumsford for years. He’s a nice guy that’s around 57 years old and has grandkids of his own already. He lives on my parents old street, and we still like going trick or treating there because of how lively and fun it is for my nephew whom I love dearly. I kinda sacrifice myself to see how much fun he has on Halloween. This year he dressed up as a ghost with a simple white sheet and holes cut out over his head.
We went out on our normal route, knowing that we’d end up at Mr. Rumsford’s place towards the end of the night as he always puts on a nice display of coffins and stuff like that for the kids on his lawn. It’s always a good way to end the night, especially for me, as it was the most crowded part of the route and it was best for me to finish the night quickly if something went wrong……which it unfortunately did.
There were just too many things on Mr. Rumsford’s lawn this year, with real people popping out of the coffins, and other guests that were moving around his lawn with fake chainsaws making loud noises, and even some zombies that were always moving towards you and they began invading my space. I wouldn’t have had any problem with any of it but I didn’t like how all of these costumed people, who I assume were Mr. Rumsford’s friends or relatives started coming closer to myself and my nephew. I started feeling claustrophobic, and I just needed to get out of there right away. I told my nephew to get the candy quickly, and that’s when I took out my cigarettes and lit up. I actually don’t smoke, but I keep the cigarettes on me as a deterrent from people coming close to me. However, in this case, Mr. Rumsford sidled me, took zero notice that I had just lit my cigarette, put his hand on my shoulder asking what I thought of this years scene, and I instinctively punched Mr. Rumsford in the face without thinking.
I was quite freaked out and tried to explain myself, and I think I did, but when my nephew got back, I just took his hand, and we scooted home as fast as possible. It was all a bit of a scene, and some commotion and I’m still thinking about it and how it could have been avoided. And I’m just hoping Mr. Rumsford accepts my postcard of apology but at the same, I hope he learns to mind his own space too. Not everyone likes to be touched, especially if you have PTSD.
And that’s all I really have to say about that. I’m just happy to be back on the road.
If you or a loved one is battling PTSD or CPTSD, please do get help if you’re not getting any right now. If you need to talk to anyone right away, our friends at Better Help are here for you by just CLICKING HERE.
This post was created with the help of Grammarly.