Living with PTSD

I've been living with PTSD for almost three years now, but I've only been open about it for the last one. At first it seemed like a diagnosis to be ashamed of. That I needed to hide it or make it go away. I felt that I should be able to function and be "normal." I think others expected it of me too.

But I'm not normal. I may never be normal again. And I most definitely will never be the "old" Debbie. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. It's impossible. I'm different. Life is different. The world is different.

I realized recently that I don't talk much to my family about PTSD. I've never explained it to you or chatted it with you. I simply acted not-normal and expected you to catch on and then became angry when you didn't. That was unfair of me.

So here is my attempt at helping you understand what it's like living with PTSD.


PTSD Defined

According to Wiki, posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is "is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma. This event may involve the threat of death to oneself or to someone else, or to one's own or someone else's physical, sexual, or psychological integrity, overwhelming the individual's ability to cope. As an effect of psychological trauma, PTSD is less frequent and more enduring than the more commonly seen acute stress response. Diagnostic symptoms for PTSD include re-experiencing the original trauma(s) through flashbacks or nightmares, avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma, and increased arousal – such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, anger, and hypervigilance. Formal diagnostic criteria require that the symptoms last more than one month and cause significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning."


What it is

• An actual, honest-to-grandma disorder related to extreme anxiety and fear
• R-E-A-L (I'm not making it up)
• Long lasting and can take years (if ever) to treat
• Life altering

What it is NOT

• An excuse to be lazy
• A negative label indicating I'm broken
• A reason to judge me
• Proof that I'm crazy

What does this mean for my life?

It means that sometimes I can't function. Period. Joe and I call those couch days because about the only thing I can do is lay on the couch and watch happy shows like Monsters Inc or Cars. Couch days can be triggered by any number of things, but sleep/nightmares seems to be the biggest culprit. The good days have begun to outnumber the bad, though, so we are hopeful that maybe someday I'll be free. However (as my dad can attest... sorry Dad), one night of night terrors can still leave me a vegetable.

It means that most times I struggle to process information. I've lost words, meanings, phrases. I can be mid-sentence and completely forget what I was saying. I stumble through my thoughts. When others are talking I often can't understand what they're saying. Not because of the words, but because my brain isn't up to speed. I prefer to text than talk because I can see what you're trying to say and have time to formulate a response. I'm not so great "on the spot."

It means sometimes I have to take a break or cancel an activity. I used to be able to do many, many things at once and do them well. Trauma has changed that for me. Most of the time I feel raw... like I'm walking around without skin on and all the air and particles are grinding into my insides. It's like that, but emotionally. Chaos, loud noises, large groups, or too much time away from home can overwhelm me and send me into a panic attack (difficulty breathing, terror of surroundings, lots and lots of tears). I have to be careful how much stimulus I allow into my life. And if I get overstimulated, I have to take a break--leaving the party early (if I even go at all), taking a nap, lying down to watch a happy movie, or finding a quiet place to breathe and remind myself that I'm okay. It's nothing personal... it's not that I don't want to be with you... it's that I have to keep myself sane.

It means that most of the time I'm terrified of new people, places, and things. Strangers terrify me. I don't know what they're going to do or say. They're unpredictable and very, very scary. Just like places I don't know. Or experiences I haven't tried yet. My anxiety is high to extremely high most of the time. I have to have a plan for everything. And a backup plan. And a backup for the backup. It helps me manage the anxiety and fear. It helps me control what I can control because there is so much that I can do nothing about.

It means sometimes I'm less than dependable. I can't hold down a job, fulfill my callings as I would like, or be there always when you need me. I just don't know when the next attack is going to happen, how long I'll be down, or what the aftermath is going to look like. I don't mean to be a flake. I don't mean to be unhelpful. I'm just trying to do the best I can with what I have.

It means that most times I'm emotional and sensitive. I'm probably reading more into a situation than needs be and I'm highly likely to get my feel bads hurt. I also shut down really fast--like C3P0 in Old Ben Kenobi's hut on Tatooine. This doesn't mean you need to change anything, just understand when I need time to collect myself.

It means we aren't pursuing children. Not until I'm healthier... more stable.

It means I'll be in therapy for a very, very long time. Lots of hours and money will be invested before I make it out of this mess.

And it means that my whole life--how I grocery shop, who I hang with, how I interact with others, what movies I see, what TV I watch, what seasons I love, what topics I'll discuss, which places I'll go, what times I'll be out, how often I leave home, how I receive love, and how my brain works--has been altered forever.

I welcome any questions you might have. Feel free to email me. I'll share with you what I can. I'll give you any resources I have. I'll do everything in my power to help you understand and to be patient while you try.

I spent the first two years tyring to pretend things didn't happen and that PTSD didn't exist. Looks like I'll spend the rest of my life advocating for those with mental health issues and learning how to handle my own.

Lots of love,
Deb


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