I thought I was all past it and there was no trouble anymore, so I let myself get sentimental about some of Mother's things that turned up unexpectedly. I went so far as to hang something off my rear view mirror in the car to remind me, along with a few other things I was doing all alone that I shouldn't have been alone for. The Lord told me almost two years ago that I should never go back to her house by myself, but I did.
Because I'm so much stronger now. Right?
Damn that C-PTSD comes sneaking right back up and before I know what I'm doing I'm using old coping techniques and can't tell which way is north and what year it is. Facebook doesn't help at all with that new "memories" app throwing ALL that stuff back at me day after day.
I hate this shit. I really do.