So, the last two weeks were kind of exciting. For the last two or three years I have been unemployed due to PTSD. Then, out of the blue I got a call from a home inspection company who was willing to give me a chance to work even with PTSD. After such a long time out of work, I was so excited to be able to work again. To be a man again and provide for my family in a tangible way.
I was nervous on the first day, but I quickly seemed to fall back into the groove. I was starting to regain my confidence in my abilities and I thought that I was actually going to be able to make it work. It was good to have a purpose again. Good to get up in the morning knowing that I had things to do.
On wednesday I went with a few others to an empty house to do some training on a new mold detection technology. It was awesome! I had a few of the familiar ptsd memory glitches, but nothing I couldn’t cope with by taking good notes. Two days later I was sent out to do an inspection on the same empty house with another inspector. This is where things went bad real quick and in a hurry.
I got to the house before the other inspector. I’m always early to work, always have been since I was a teen. I went up to the door and noticed that the real estate key box was gone. It was there the first time I was at the house. I tried the door and it was unlocked, so I went in. I assumed that the real estate agent had taken the key box. The first thing I should have noticed was that the house I just walked into was obviously being lived in. But I didn’t. The presence of furniture and other personal belongings just didn’t register in my brain.
The other inspector arrived and asked if this was the right house. I assure him it was because I had been in it only two days before. We then proceeded to start the inspection. We finished almost the whole house and it still never registered in my brain that this was not the same house as the one I had been at only two days before. Towards the end, the other inspector finally gave in to his intuition and checked the house info again. That’s when he was able to confirm that we were indeed in the wrong house. The house we were supposed to be inspecting was the empty one next door. The one I had been in two days ago. The empty one.
I was and am devastated. I was so excited that I had defeated PTSD. I thought I had been able to come back from everything I had been through in the last two years. The owner of the inspection company that had given me the chance was right to let me go. My condition makes me a liability and, quite honestly, a danger to myself and others. Nothing bad happened, but it could have turned out very badly.
I’m now back to where I started and I really don’t know what direction to go. It’s obvious that PTSD has done more damage than I ever imagined.