Okay, that was interesting.
We have a lot of Knock-Out rose bushes, which grow faster than chin hairs, and flower profusely all summer. They make a great hedge, unless you don't need a hedge, in which case you probably don't have to worry about having a PTSD moment. At least, not involving roses.
I was pruning the wild hairs (anything growing sideways is usually a good candidate for snipping) when I realized I'd worked myself in the middle of a six-foot tall, ten-foot wide hedge. As it turns, out, the research and development team for the Knock-Out rose neglected to address two things: smell (they got nuthn,) and thorns. Of the two, thorns is the bigger oversight.
I was stuck. Stuck like a sticker stuck on a stick. The thorns grabbed my arms first, then my torso, and the more I tried to unstick myself, the worse the situation got. I started to panic, then BAM.
Gun in my face
DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME, BITCH!
I called out, but the Mister was inside. Nothing to do but calm down and take it slowly, which after a moment, I did. My arms look like I lost a fight with face-ripper monkey.
So how 'bout THAT!?
Until now, PTSD was something I'd read about, but had never experienced. I was introduced to EMDR therapy shortly after the robbery, but showed no symptoms beyond "what could be reasonably expected," and didn't pursue it. I may have to rethink that decision.
The funny thing is, when I was purging my closet, and actually LOOKED at a ski mask: nuthin. Still, I over-purged, both in the garden and the closet. The garden will be fine, but the closet? Well, I guess I'll just have to fill that baby back up, won't I?
I've lost over 20 pounds. The Anxiety Diet is NOT for sissies. I have a feeling EMDR therapy can't hold a candle to retail therapy. I think I'll go to Macy's big sale right now and buy a new bra. That should lift my spirits, and some other things, besides.