I am going to preface this post by saying, the trigger for it was an elevator ride.  I wiped out my recorder, and just recorded my thoughts as I rode it down.

Hello my name is Shante Nixon, and I can admit that I have PTSD, I did not realize it until I was at the national perinatal association conference. I hate the sound of ringing; I leave my phone on mute. I don’t want to talk to any one hardly. I have gone from being a complete party girl to I would rather be curled up with a book.

And I have to hear my husband’s voice first thing in the morning, and in the middle of the night, and at the end of the night and; it is not necessarily for romantic interest.

I realized that I am struggling with PTSD because here I am 4 & ½ years later and I still cannot stand for a bell to beat or a buzzard a ring to take place. My alarm in the morning is tropical music to wake me up. And not because I like tropical music I actually despise it.

But I cannot handle the ringing. People get offended because I don’t want to talk on my phone. Not understanding all the talking that I did on the phone, and that the news about my of my son dying happened, while talking on the phone.

And the negative news that family members bring to me that all happens on the phone. I got to the point when I told my mom, it must be bad news if you are calling me in the middle of the day. Because it all takes place on the phone so I just got to the point where I would rather just text.

And so I end this very short blog post with, hi my name is Shante, and I struggle with PTSD.