It’s 11pm. I should be in bed unwinding, maybe watching a little tv, or reading a book. Instead I’m walking around the hotel grounds, because vacations are a trigger. Since the folks in the hotel room next to us don’t understand trauma. Since slamming doors and screaming “Don’t touch me” are not acceptable things to do in a hotel room, we walk. We walk around aimlessly, in the cold, wearing our pajamas. I didn’t have time to look for my shoes, so I quickly slipped on my husbands sneakers and I could only coerce my child into flip flops without an additional melt down. You see I don’t even know…