Sunday, July 01, 2018

Banana bus scare

It was a frosty arvo in the nation's capital as I achingly strode back from a mission when a passing banana bus, the double bus with an accordion-like midsection, triggered its air brakes.

The piercing whoosh caught me broadside but at a distance, not up close, so the startle response of my PTSD only kicked in for the moment it happened and ebbed in seconds leaving an energy boost after glow from the adrenaline hit.

When it happened I yelled "JESUS FUCK" and hopped into the air about a foot before landing safely another foot in a random direction opposite the noise.

I waited the seconds following conscious my subconscious was responding before heading off with fear-tingled charge to my painful gait.

Had I been closer the fright would have full triggered where you know nothing is wrong but you're crying and cradling yourself or an object and softly oooohing as you exhale.

Today is a winter garden clean and the mower and mulcher are going. I have my ear protector muffs on against the ambient sounds of robot murder.

That's life with a workplace psychological injury; years on your still healing brain is still fucking healing.

This has been "Fun with PTSD".

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