A Running Faucet

People don’t understand PTSD. 

They tell you

when you have a panic attack

after seeing a Black Jeep Wrangler 

you are overdramatic. 

But they don’t understand 

how in reality 

they are saying 

being held captive 

against your will is overdramatic.

They tell you 

you need to “chill,” 

you need to “loosen up.” 

But they don’t understand 

that PTSD is not just a flashback, 

it is a full body experience.

You don’t just see the event,

you hear the screaming cry of your sister 

as she reaches for your hand 

but you are too far away. 

You feel the violent grab of his hand 

as he pulls you onto the bed. 

You smell the alcohol on his breath, 

and it is like copper coins 

being shoved down your throat. 

You taste the desperate plea 

hanging in your mouth, 

like someone has sewn shut your lips 

over chattering teeth. 

In your head 

you kick 

and fight 

but in reality 

you are paralyzed. 

They tell you

you are weak.

PTSD is a flood.

It bubbles up 

and overflows 

like a bathtub with a running faucet. 

I tried to ignore it, 

like how everyone else around me was, 

but I found that you can’t ignore 

a running faucet. 

Eventually it spills on the floor 

and slowly drips through the ceiling. 

I tried to grab buckets 

in order to trap the water 

but the ceiling gave out 

and a tile hit my head 

so hard 

it knocked me unconscious, 

the water was so violent 

it pushed me under 

and I could not breathe. 

Someone was stomping on my chest 

and I cracked. 

I cried. 

I screamed. 

You cannot ignore a traumatic event. 

The only way to work through it

is to talk about it. 

But be careful, 

when you reach out, 

you are seeking attention. 

They don’t realize 

that when they shut you up 

they turn on another faucet.