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I have not been in a relationship since my husband died. I go out sometimes by myself, sometimes I meet up with a friend but I keep the physical distance. Tomorrow I go back to group therapy at Bellevue for the first time in over a month. Our counselor was on hiatus. It's a women's group. Some of the women are huggers. We have told each other deep dark traumatic things. We have cried together. I used to avoid the hugs at first, but now I'm ok with them. Perhaps you can desensitize yourself by going to the beauty parlor. Get your hair and nails done. If you can work up the nerve to let someone touch your feet get a pedicure. It will be cheaper than therapy and less dangerous than meds. There is a young lady on YouTube you might like to listen to. Search Kati Morton, she is a psychiatric social worker  specializing in family therapy she has a chat line, forums and other on line groups.

Thanks everybody. My shrink will be on vacation for two months. This week my Group Therapy starts up again after a one month hiatus. I'm anticipating more than one of the members will be ready with "I told you so!"

Yesterday at group therapy I got a lot of support from the other members. I'm feeling better about myself and worse about this doctor. Our counselor ordered me to confront him. She knows I would rather avoid conflict. That's my modus operandi. The other members in group were furious at my shrink and privately out of our counselors company advised me to report him. He's the only doctor in over 15 years to get my meds just right. I need to know my medications will not be interrupted. I've been through discontinuation syndrome before going from one doctor to the next. It's from *.

I'm taking 3 hours vacation time off work today to go to the dentist. I hoping it will just be a routine cleaning, but I think a couple of my bridges may be coming loose. When I floss I think I can feel a little bit of give. I hope I'm just imagining things. The last time my dentist popped one of my bridges off it felt like getting punched in the face.  Wish me luck.

Thanks. For better or worse this is the doc I've gotten the most interaction out of. I asked him if he wanted to assign me to an alternate doctor. He said no, he finds me very interesting and enjoys working with me. I'm wondering if by that he means he finds me a source of amusement.

I've had other traumas before and after 9/11. I am currently enrolled in a 9/11 woman's survivor's therapy group. Earlier this week there was a brush fire in the meadowlands that filled the sky with thick black smoke obscuring the Manhattan skyline from end to end. It triggered me. I called my psychiatrist. He said it was normal for me to be triggered even though I'm compliant with my meds and attend group regularly. He said medication is not going to cure me. He said I will continue to be triggered. He said "What do you want from me, you're sick, you have a disease." I was shocked by this reply and knew not what to say. The morning after this revelation I started crying uncontrollably and calling out to my dead mother "I'm sick! I have a disease!" over and over again. I never thought of myself as diseased. Somehow PTSD doesn't sound as devastating or disabling as you're sick, you have a disease.

I saw my shrink yesterday for the last time before he goes on a two month vacation. When I told him how I broke down after what he told me, how weepy I'd been since then, how helpless and hopeless,  he emphatically denied having ever used the word disease in the entirety of his professional career. He went on about it for the length of our appointment, not leaving me space to express any other concern.

Is he gas lighting me, covering his @$$, trying to get me to believe I'm experiencing auditory hallucinations or just playing on my fears of decreased cognitive function? I was starting to make decisions, clean my apartment, care about my appearance, behave friendlier. Now I don't feel I'm worth the space I occupy. When he gets back from vacation should I give him another chance to stick me with metaphorical pins? For years I felt like a Guinea pig being switched from one med to the next. Now I feel more like a lab rat being pushed over the edge.

On the subway ride home from my shrink yesterday I thought of you and remembered the day my mother woke me up at 1:00 am, held a gun to my head and interrogated me about something that I had no idea what she was talking about and so could give no satisfactory answer. This only made her more infuriated and she turned the gun on herself and asked if I wanted her to shoot. I said no and I don't remember what happened after that. For better or worse you seem to have a better memory than me. My meds make life easier to take but harder to deal with. I hope everything is going well with you. If the weather is nice where you are I hope you get outside. Lilacs are blooming in my neck of the urban sprawl. I don't have a garden of my own, but patients in a recovery program built a Sobriety Garden behind Belleview. I arrived early for my appointment yesterday so I took a walk and smelled the lilacs. Lilacs used to grow wild along the railroad tracks. My husband used to take me there and we would cut big bouquets and fill our apartment with the smell. I haven't gone back to the place where the lilacs grow wild since my husband died. I don't even know if the lilacs are still there. The days of wine and roses are distant days for me. You're young. I hope all good things for you.

I'm new here too and don't know how to get started. I was not diagnosed with PTST till after 9/11. Your doc must be very proficient to have found the right meds on the first try. My doctors are still mixing it up but I thought I was getting better 'till I had what they call a bleed through episode. The doctors say it is normal. Meds won't cure me but my good days will outnumber my bad days. Good luck to you. Stay safe.