So here it is. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. I was diagnosed with this thorn in my side when I was about sixteen years old. At that time I was given medication to help me work through the symptoms, but I really didn’t get any counseling for my PTSD. Looking back I can’t imagine why someone didn’t recommend I be put in counseling specifically for PTSD. In my defense I was only sixteen and I didn’t really understand what to do. In everyone else’s defense I had struggled with an eating disorder and had been in counseling for that, so they probably didn’t think pursuing anything further was necessary. Either way the counseling for PTSD didn’t happen.
For those of you that are hearing about PTSD for the first time, according to The Nebraska Department of Veterans’ Affairs, “PTSD, or Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of a life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist incidents, serious accidents, or physical or sexual assault in adult or childhood. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time. However, some people will have stress reactions that do not go away on their own, or may even get worse over time. These individuals may develop PTSD. People who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person’s daily life.”
My life threatening experience was an accumulation of events from my childhood. I believe the hub of this disorder is rooted in my step-mother’s attempted suicide. This is a life-threatening event that I witnessed, so it would make sense for it to be a major contributor to my PTSD. My step-mother survived her attempt, but assured everyone that she would, in fact, try again. This happened when I was thirteen years old. Upon her return home, I spent every moment expecting to find her dead. I was not sure how she would attempt to end her life so my mind began to see everything as an opportunity for her to finish what she’d started. I would walk very slowly around corners looking for shadows and listening for any indication of what might be waiting for me. I was on watch every moment of every day. While this was all frightening, I was also terrified that she would hurt me or even my father. I had overheard someone say that if she can do that to herself, imagine what she could do to someone else. Therefore, when I was not watching to see if I would walk in on her second attempt, I was watching my back at every turn to be sure that she wasn’t after me or my dad. Obviously, this was a terrifying time. It lasted solidly from when I was thirteen to when I was eighteen and able to leave.
So I lived. I left. I went to college. I earned a bachelor’s and then a master’s degree; both related to education. I am not married. I do not have children. I do have a wonderful roommate. She is my sister in Christ and I love her dearly. I have a beautiful family in her and her two beautiful children. I have a wide spread support system. I go to a lovely church that is filled with some truly lovely people. I have a job that is stressful at times, but can be rewarding. My life is filled with beautiful blessings. Why then am I stuck in the past? Why am I dwelling on what is over and done with? The answer to that question is agonizingly simple: because my brain won’t let me do anything else. The thorn in my side that is PTSD will not release the images of what I lived through. Instead my brain replays the horrific events of my past as if it is stuck on repeat. I have nightmares and flashbacks. I have anxiety attacks. I have debilitating fears. While I have physically moved on to a safer and more beautiful surrounding, my brain has remained trapped in the past.
So now what? Do I just live this way? Is my life always going to be enveloped in fear? Can my past really control my future? The answer to all of these questions is painfully complex. I can take medication to help with the symptoms. I can receive cognitive therapy to work through my past and the symptoms of my PTSD. I can push through each day and continue to fight for freedom and peace of mind. I do not have to live my life this way forever. It may seem that way at times, but I do not have to be trapped in my past for the rest of my life. My past can control my future, but only if I let it. What my step-mother did not know all of those years is that in between the torturous fear that she created I was praying and calling on God. I was developing a support system. I was making plans for my future. I was educating myself and pursuing a life outside of the abusive walls she was putting up. What she didn’t know is that I’m a fighter. Not physically, though I would like to think I could hold my own, but mentally and emotionally. I’m a fighter and I have the most amazing support on my side: Jesus.
