The Upside

The upside of a major depressive PTSD episode is how ardently I appreciate the chaotic delight of living when I've emerged from it.

Granted, I've only had three major depressive PTSD episodes in my life that I know of, but each time I have definitely felt giddy once I had recovered.
Hmn. That makes one for nearly every decade of my existence.
If I can stick with those odds, my prognosis improves considerably!
I have been working with my therapist to develop a prioritized list of early symptoms that might indicate the onset of major PTSD-triggered depression. The idea is to take each of the items on this list and create a plan for how to diffuse them before the situation gets so out of hand again that I'm shaking uncontrollably and otherwise unable to function under normal circumstances.
Ask a veteran if all this planning and positive thinking works or not, and many have told me that it's a load of crap. That's all right. If I had been through some of the things they have, and seen what they have seen, I suppose it would be a lot harder for me to believe that there is any way out of this dark hole I often find myself in. Sometimes I find myself being apologetic for claiming to have PTSD when I've never seen someone gunned down out in the jungle, but one man kindly pointed out that he wouldn't criticize someone who cried over their dog dying just because it wasn't as extreme as having their mother die. Pain is pain. And building up your arsenal of defense is a divine prospect over being helpless and ashamed.