I have Secondary PTSD.....say what?

In the days leading up to this wonderful gift I recieved (invitation to the washington retreat)  had mixed emotions.  I knew that alot of the women going would be living in, on or around Ft. Lewis.  This created an uneccessary amount of anxiety and a flood of horrible memories surrounding that place and the pain and stress it as a whole has caused my family in the past.  Just thinking that I really didnt want to have to relive that all over again by hearing other crazy horror storie about the place or the people in it I created an enormous amount of tension from the minute I left my house.  Of course I had a 6 hour drive by myself to stew in these emotions.  Not the best way to treat a road trip where the final destination is supposed to be relaxing and rejuvinatng.  I stopped to use the bathroom so many times of course the 64 ounces of water I consumed aong the way didnt help.  I figured what the heck.  I had some extra money so I stopped and walked around the factory stores for a bit for a little shopping therapy.  Not a good way to ease anxiety.  I bought perfume, a new wallet, bra and some other things that obviously werent important enough to remember that I purchased.  I realized that I had been off the road far too long and had to seriously make up some lost time.  It was all working in my favor until it started raining and the speed limit magically increased from 60mph to 70mph.  I didnt notice right away until people in priuses were passing me going 80.  So I joined in the race to nowhere.  Traffic bothers me.  I mean it makes me feel paranoid.  Every bad thing that could happen on the highway I can visualize while driving.  Wierdly enough if I am in the car long enough by myself my mind begins to wander and I start scanning the side of the highway thinking of interesting places that terrorists could bury IEDs.  Not that this would or ever will happen but the what ifs really make it hard for me to get those ideals out of my head.  On top of that I carry a stungun next to me out and ready just incase someone tries to get in my car.  I also carry it with me to rest area bathrooms.  I am too much of a pussy to carry a gun so a stun gun to me is less dangerous and easier to use. I  have personal reasons for not liking guns but that would be a whole new blog.  Anyways, I showed up late to the retreat which made me more nervous and more anxious.  Luckily I didnt mis dinner all together just had to walk into the dining room late and by myself and I felt like I was walking into a lion's den.  Everyone was already seated and mingling time was upon us.  I knew one woman there and I didnt even see her at first.  So I ws able to get a seat at a table full of girls who were wildly chattering about this and that.  Just my luck I get sat down next to the girl that asked what was wrong with my husband right out of the gate and I was a little hesitant seeing as how she had just told me that her husband had broken his ankle in a training accident stateside.  I wasnt sure what to respond with.  Was I in the right place.  Was I spontaneously transformed into Dorothy fro mthe Wizard of Oz?  Had I seriously driven 6 hours and end up at a retreat for spouses of husbands with training accident injuries.  I was in a unmotivated state of what is going on here.  So I told her how my husband was injured and that he served two branches and basically gave her the ultra shortened ciff's notes.  I finally found my friend after dinner and she and another helpful girl got me my goodie bag and my room assignment and I was told that I was given a room by myself but if anyone else showed up lateI would be assigned a room mate.  I am a nice girl but I was seriously hoping that the other person never showed because part of my anxiety was having to share a room with a stranger.  Would my room mate be nice, understanding, would they snore, would they be like the girl who's husband broke his ankle in a training accident, would she be just as nervous and anxious as me, would she even get along with me, would she be a messy room mate, would she keep me up all night talkig about dreaded Ft. Lewis?  So many things clouded my ability to get unwound.  So I got up to the room.  I unpacked some things but mostly left everything in bags.  I got my pajamas on.  Scouted the room for entry and exit points.  Made sure all the door locks worked and that they functoned like they should.  Messed with all the lights.  The fan.  The heat.  Analyzed the porch to make sure nobody could climb from the neighborin porch to mine which seemed possible so I didnt even really go out there.  That door stayed double locked.  Blinds closed tightly.  I finished eailing assignmens to my college instructors, pugged my cell phone in and sat in silence for atleast 30 minutes.  Checked the doors again and finally decided to invite my friend over for a glass of the wine that I brought incase I needed to calm down and unwind.  My friend just happened to get te roommate that I was nervous to get.  We drank wine, chatted about our husbands, our issues, the wy we handle things and just a nice calm chat.  After she left back to her room it was wierd but alot of the anxiety was gone.  This could have been the buzz or the fact that I needed sleep.  So it wasnt until around 2:00am that I was able to lay down and close my eyes.  I still got up to use the bathroom twice more and to check the locks, peaak out the peep hole in the door and pee out the blinds.  Atleast I had the fan to sooth me to sleep.  Woke up to my alarm and felt like poop.  Hungover, very sleepy and hungry.  Then the interacting begun.  After breakfast we made name tags and got started on the focus group stuff and getting into the meat of the retreat structured business.  Which I had no idea what  was in for.  We broke off into groups and did a checklist of PTSD symptoms for our husbands and a checklist for ourselves.  When asked if we got any relaxation the previous night I just laughed and the Dr. asked what was so funny and when I told him about my night he basically confirmed everything my husband and other people had been telling me for a while.  Basically I was smack dab in the middle of secondary PTSD and that mine seemed pretty bad.  I have switched roles with my husband and now I act like he used to.  Everything from my driving and sleeping habits to my mood swings and compulsive routines.  I snap at people, I complain alot, I ignore family, phone calls, miss appointments, am late to EVERYTHING....I dont sleep well, I have not much of a sex drive,  spend when depressed, I eat when depressed.  I go through anniversary date depression cycles.  I have no motivation to exercise.  I get naucious riding as the passenger in any car, I cant sleep and when I do I cant get up.  I am a walking tie bomb.  I have felt that I would be better off dead and that my family might be better off without me even I kow that isnt true.  I sometimes just cry for no reason.  I have even snapped at my daughter's friends.  I seriously didnt really put all this on the table and examine it like this before.  Now that I fully see it, its like a freight train running down the tracks with no brakes and I have no idea how to derail it.  I should have seen this coming and I should have prepared for it some how.  I was so busy making sure everyone else was happy, safe, fed, clean and not angry that I forgot to do the same for myself.  I surrounded myself with things and I volunteered for fundraisers, with my kid's school functios, and I buried myself so far into my college work that I actually forgot where I was until finals came and gone and school was out and I had time to breathe and think.  Now I feel like I dont wanna think.  I wanna be busy again.  Realistically though I am dying inside and have no idea how to fix myself.  I am a psych major and I know exactly what a psychologist will tell me or make me do.  I dont know if I am ready to fully deal with all of that.  I hate how all of this has come back and fallen right on my shoulders.  For the past 8 years I have been running from this and I feel like I have fallen and cant get back up.