Laurapenpusher’s Weblog

This will be the last post specifically on PTSD. Those who have visited the site based on the disorder are welcome to come back at any time; I encourage you to comment, use the links when you recognize the symptoms in yourself or a loved one and get help. Since the disorder affects my daily life and I’ve already made it known to the world via the Internet, trust me, it will be included in daily blogs as time goes on.

After the rain and snow the other day, today is beautiful with the sun shining and temperatures in the low 70’s already. After being so isolated for so long, I really want to get out today – I just can’t convince the rest of the population to stay inside so I don’t have to deal with them. It’s not that I don’t like people; people are great as long as they’re someplace else. I don’t always know how to play nice.

Having a motorcycle on days like today is a great catalyst for me. Getting on the bike, riding out of the city on the back roads is soothing for me. Of course, there are other bikers out and about on days like today, but while there’s a certain level of camaraderie because of the bike, there’s also a certain level of anonymity with the separation. It’s not like being in a car with three or four other people. Conversation isn’t necessary, nor is it possible without stopping. A rider goes past from the opposite direction, and you nod or raise your hand slightly just as acknowledgment. That’s the end of biker protocol on the road. In the meantime, riding a motorcycle requires full attention in the present moment, which, for me, holds the PTSD and its quirks at bay for the duration of the ride. The voices are still there, but they are far in the background. My knee doesn’t bounce; I don’t go into panic attacks. For the first few minutes on the road, I do have to focus on relaxing, not letting other traffic put me into panic mode. But once the city and all of the other people are behind me and I’m out on some two-lane country road, it’s heaven.

Having a Harley-Davidson, even my little 883 Sportster, also helps. It sounds silly, but many people still have the old image of a Harley rider and when I do have to stop somewhere – gas, restroom, food, etc. – unless it’s a biker establishment, people usually keep their distance from me. It’s just an added perk! And I can actually laugh as I remember the first time I noticed it happening! Since I’m not one of those pretty, little skinny women, my image in leathers is not necessarily a pleasant one! Others, especially other women, back away and don’t even attempt to strike up conversation, even (maybe specifically) in the ladies room. I like it that way; I don’t have to put on a front and be nice to someone I don’t know and who doesn’t know me. Of course when that happens, the voices start arguing.

“You could have at least said, ‘Good morning!’”

“Why? I don’t know that woman and don’t give a sh*t what she thinks.”

And it’s time to get back on the bike before the voices drive me nuts, again.

Being on the back roads, especially early in the morning, is spectacular for me every time. All of my senses become extremely heightened and alive, replacing the usual numbness! I see pebbles on the road and cracks in the pavement; I hear the wind rushing past my face; I smell rain in the distance or flowers along the highway’s edge; I even hear birds over the roar of the engine! I read somewhere, long time ago, that people who lived under extreme conditions as a child and grew up under extreme conditions, often are not excited by the same things that would normally excite others. To get reactions from this type of person, the stimulus has to be more profound. Riding the bike provides that stimulus for me. It gets me out of the fog, the haze of PTSD and takes me to the pinnacle of life and for the few hours I’m on the road, I’m alive!

So early this morning, I got up, showered and dressed in my jeans, boots, heavy layers (it was pretty cool at that time) and my leather jacket and went out in the semi-darkness to get on the road. I pulled the cover off the bike, folded it relatively neatly and tucked in the saddle bag. I straddled the bike, checked my mirrors, turned the gas tank to “on” and pulled out the choke. I flipped the toggle switch to “start” and slid the key into the ignition. I turned the key and absolutely nothing happened. No lights, no horn – the battery was dead. No back roads today.