Oh dear, the flashbacks have kicked in. Four days to go. Yesterday was pretty bad. I'd been packing all afternoon and then my house didn't feel like my house anymore. I was looking at my black angle poise lamp thinking that's my black anglepoise lamp, I'm home, but in my body just plain gut twisted terror.  
         I'm fearing the flashbacks again. Just like I did when I was a hermit. It's hard not to when they're as bad as that. I'm afraid of what's going to come up. But, and this is a big BUT, it's all in my head.  The danger isn't real. It's all in my head. I'm safe. I've written that on my hand. 

It's tough. So tough sometimes I have to shout, 'Come on you lion!' Flashbacks come in bits and pieces; a pain in my side, spasms in my tum that have me juddering in a little ball, a wet sound that has me sobbing into my rice pudding, or just a wrong smell that flavours my banana and the water I swig afterwards to wash it away. 
       All the senses hold memories and they hardly ever make sense. Of course I avoided them, they hurt like hell. But what if stepping outside the front door is a trigger? What if doing new things is a trigger? Avoiding triggers can make a person a hermit.
      But, and this is a big BUT, there is another way.