The Big Sister

As an older brother to a younger sister, there's this feeling of responsibility to be a role model. My wife would say that that's not accurate and I'm sure she's right. But I try to be this rock for others and, now that I've arrived in North Carolina for (hopefully) good, I tried putting that hat back on. But the hat no longer fits. She's my big sister.

One of my- it's not a "trigger", but one of my "triggers" is feeling like someone who needs to watched over and cared for. Not in a sweet and cute way like how I might feel cared for by Mariel, but rather someone else. Anyone else. And Dee has this way of being the absolute nicest, kindest, most thoughtful person ever. I've watched as she literally started talking with complete random strangers with no hesitation. 

I can't help but feel like- I keep saying "burden", but that's too extreme. Maybe "someone's responsibility"? She and her boyfriend Kevin, a super great guy, are both so accommodating and... -sigh-... I'm running on here. I just feel like someone's responsibility instead of the Queen of England visiting a random, super considerate family in America. They really have rolled out the red carpet for me. And without them trying, I'm feeling like a child that needs to be cared for. A trigger. Again, maybe not the right word.

My C-PTSD has been pretty bad this past week. They've been nice enough to bring me to gatherings, but these are loud strangers in close quarters. The first gathering ended up fine because maybe teamwork? We were all playing a really fun yard game and I felt included. I hadn't been to any house gatherings like this in over a year, and I'm socially awkward to begin with. But everyone was nice enough and there was alcohol, making it easier for me to loosen up.

Next was the baseball game that I knew days before that it was going to be bad for me. Days prior, she had told me she got me a ticket to a minor league baseball game. She assumed I'd be alright with going. She doesn't understand what it's like to live with PTSD. It's the confined spaces, the super loud people, the feeling of being "stuck", the no easy way of leaving. I don't have my wife with me and I'm in a new place surrounded by new people. At the last minute, I didn't go. They had this friend come over to drive them, and I'm sure this friend is a nice person (she did call my sweet Cary, NC "bougie" which, I mean I can't argue with that, but that's my home). I stay and crash on the bed with Bunny. I start my WRAP crisis plan.

The third party, last evening's party, was the one that really broke me. We drove a half hour to somewhere in Garner, it's at a new place with strangers. I walk in and I'm suddenly in a room full of very loud people. Kevin goes off to hang out with his friend. Delia is introducing me, but -ugh-... that feeling of having the spotlight on you. 

I go and have a beer (I think I was told something like "this is a getting-rid-of-alcohol" kind of party). I sit down at the dining room table feeling super weird and awkward. I'm not making eye contact with anyone, I'm just trying to be by myself and make as little impact as possible. There's a guy that comes around and tells me that the beer I've chosen to drink was being saved for later because it's from Texas and it's a special beer. I apologize, but it wasn't like, "Oh that's okay! You didn't know! Have fun!" It was super awkward as he kind of stood there before walking away.

Dee came around to check on me (I had asked her to check and see how I'm doing from time to time). I told her I wasn't doing alright. She offered to drive me back if I didn't want to stay. That felt so nice, knowing I had an out. We went outside just the two of us and relaxed on patio furniture... that sunk into a bed of pebbles. I tried to explain to her what it was like having C-PTSD and she's... just... not getting. She's giving me this look of general concern. Someone who wants to understand, but just doesn't. Do we not come from the same background? Does she really not understand at all what this is like? 

I understand everything is different now. She has a long-term boyfriend, she's really successful, she lives in a nice area with a 2021 Ford Escape. And then there's me, someone she regarded as "coming from poverty" and how she "doesn't know what that's like". I know she didn't mean anything by it, but it stung. I never considered myself impoverished. And if I'm impoverished, Mariel is impoverished. And if Mariel is impoverished, then literally everyone in Eastpointe, MI is impoverished. Is that where I come from? Poverty? I'm not mad at her for saying that. It stung, but I'm not mad because she's probably right to a degree.

Mariel finally arrives in North Carolina tomorrow night with the "kids", all our stuff in a box truck, her dad and Miranda. I can't wait to get my wife and kids back. I feel so awkward right now.

Trevor.