It had been a bad stretch, and Disney seemed like a good idea. I knew I had crossed the line into crazy as Aerosmith’s “Love in the Elevator” blasted. It was the first ride of our first Disney day, and we were not off to a good start. Rockin’ Roller Coaster wasn’t crowded so we rode it over and over. I had a death grip on my child every time. She gave variations of “Mom, chill,” but I couldn’t. I would tell myself I would do better, but the second that limo/speed machine took off, I grabbed on to my daughter for dear life. In my PTSD brain, it was my job to make sure she was safe.