PTSD

When Daughter was very young, maybe 18 months old, she witnessed a knife fight between her older brothers. When she told me the story, I was skeptical, but she confronted her birth mother with the story when she was 6 or 7, she confirmed that it had happened. She was shocked Daughter remembered it, because she had been so young.

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Today Daughter walked over to the park in Tiny Village. Nice Guy and some friends were going to join her there. Some local hooligans showed up and one was showing off with a knife. Daughter began to panic. Her friends arrived, and they played some basketball. The village druggie showed up. There was a confrontation. Daughter sent two young boys who were there home and came home, hysterical, talking about knives and guns and a big fight. I finally got enough info out of her to call 911. They called back twice for more details, and sent all the deputies in the county and a cop from a neighboring community in this direction. They recognized the names of the individuals involved (so much for life in the country being crime free).

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Half the village has scanners, so all these pick-up trucks started doing a circuit around the park and the church. The mother of a couple of the boys got to park before the cops and diffused things. The deputy came and talked to Daughter, and handled her beautiful. She acknowledged there may not have been a gun, but he had already confiscated the knife. I told her she had PTSD and was Developmentally Handicapped. He assured her she'd done the right thing and kept people safe. C and her mom showed up, sent by a family member who saw lots of cops in town and one at my house. They took Daughter into the house to calm her down with a cool washcloth to the face while I thanked the deputy. I told him Daughter was also afraid of uniforms and he had handled her beautifully.

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She was lost in her PTSD, and I emphasized repeatedly how when she was 18 months old, she was too little to keep herself safe, but now she had a voice and had kept not only herself safe but others as well. I told her how proud I was and how proud Therapist would be of her.

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She's calmed down, but is sticking close to me. I anticipate problems at bedtime. Oh, and I've realized that I am tired. The scope did take something out of me. I find myself wondering how much stress contributed to all that scar tissue. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be fine. Hopefully. I know Daughter will be glad to get back to the gift shop. Then she'll be home for the rest of the week as she recovers from her wisdom teeth. Next week we'll be gone. I hope the rest of this week is quieter. Enough drama.