Ice cream and PTSD

Have you ever realized that's you hate an ice cream flavor. I will never eat butter pecan for the rest of my life. The flavor is tainted. I've also come into the realization that I suffer from PTSD. Now you may ask how ice cream and mental illness are related. Its not that far of a stretch.

Three years ago my therapist diagnosed me with PTSD. It started when he came to visit me at my place of employment the summer before I went to college. Three times, that's all it took for me to develop this flight response to my environment. I worked at Cold Stone in a truck stop, breaks weren't really a thing. So when he asked me the first time to take my 15 with him I told him no. He got upset and paid for his ice cream. While taking the cash (he didn't use card because he didn't want to be traced back, totally makes since now) he brushed his had against mine. It completely through me for a loop. It was disgusting. I remember feeling the dry skin on his hand and immediately running to wash my hands with out another word. Later he emailed me saying he was upset I could make time for him. I remember feeling upset about this because how dare he ask me to leave work for him. I was still mad at him for his graduation stunt he pulled. Fuck that. He told me that he'd try again and hope the next time I'd be more cooperative.

He did show up two other times. Each time I told him no. Each time making him more and more angry at me. And by the end of summer I was terrified he'd show up randomly. I didn't know this was PTSD at the time, but now it makes since. I remember telling my manager that there was this man stocking me and I needed him to leave or not be aloud to enter the facility. Luckily, my manager was super supportive of this and was ready to beat him up if I ever needed her too. I cannot say for sure that he came in any more than those three times, but something tells me he did and just stood at a distance. Here's where I began to become hyper vigilant of my surroundings.