I had a really bad flashback Friday night. Saturday was spent just trying to recover. Maybe Sunday will be better. And maybe Tuesday I can do what was invited by the therapist and actually tell him what the problem is instead of just wanting his help to recover from the disorganizing effects of the flashback. I wonder if other people with PTSD tell their therapists the contents of their flashbacks. I did that once (Old Guy), but it didn't turn out well. And Friday night during the flashback, the husband threatened to call 911. I told him I would divorce him if he did. He also said to be quiet, but I couldn't. I went to the closet, but he said to get out of there. Lest this all make him sound like an asshole, he isn't. He was just scared and had no freaking clue what to do. But, still -- IT'S EVERYWHERE -- NOBODY can stand that shit and I am scared of what other people might do to me for being so distressed. It seems so unfair to me when I am suffering to also feel such a deep need to hide it. Jesus. It's just not right when a person has flashbacks of their fucking flashbacks. And it's not right to be overwhelmed with guilt because my husband was scared half to death. It was a mind fuck to feel that while I was screaming and gasping for air because someone from the past had fallen asleep on top of me and was crushing my chest so I could not breathe. I NEEDED to scream and grab air like a greedy hog. I NEEDED THAT AIR and I finally got it. I got lots and lots of air.