I'm worried I'll be the one who has to tell theboy about the chickens and it triggered an attack; just the idea of his distress tripped me into this state. I'm not frightened, not yet at least, but crying and distressed because of his soon-to-be-distress.That's what it is to take an injury to the mind; that you have moments like these where your fear of normal parenting tips you into an attack.I know I got my PTSD is a self-determined heroic manner—I copped one in the service of the state—but it's at moments like these that I hate the injury and the failure that caused it. I'm reacting in advance of an unknown but likely distressing reaction. I know logically I am fine—a cat and or fox attack on an urban chicken brood is a normal risk you take—but he loved those chickens and I loved them and they were taken from him and taken from me.The universe; it's mostly crap. There's some good bits but there are times when it's mostly crap. Having an anxiety attack about a likely anxious response is not normal and should not be normal. And a child shouldn't have to come home to a parent that can't do basic shit like this because they got wounded in the brain. All of that is mostly crap.I have an hour to pull it together if thewife can't do the intercept. So it's time to arrest the quivering hands, the tears and heightened raw emotion with logic, coffee and Valium.