The following is a graphic description of my personal experience with PTSD.
In my previous post about PTSD, I referenced a number of symptoms associated with the disorder. Before going any further, I want to make it very clear that these symptoms and this experience are completely out of the conscious control of the individual suffering from them. All too often, people look at mental or emotional issues and think people should just “snap out of it” or “move on” with their lives. Trust me, I have a few of those people in my life that have judged me in the same way. They have no clue.
Just imagine, as difficult as this may be for you to do, the picture of your closest loved one being shot to death. Imagine the sounds of the gun firing, the image of the bullets flying, the blood, the guts, the screaming, anything and everything. Now picture your loved one’s body being struck. Imagine where the bullets penetrate—their chest, arms, legs, stomach, head, whatever your brain concocts. Imagine it.
Allow that image to remain in your head for a split second. It’s difficult. I UNDERSTAND. The beauty for you is that it’s difficult to imagine this, and plus, your picture will fade. It’s not real, so within an hour or so, maybe sooner, you won’t even think about it again.
Mine will NEVER disappear.
Now, imagine spending every day after a tragedy similar to what you just pictured for a split second, feeling desolate and isolated, having terrifying flashbacks and persistent thoughts of the event, finding nothing but complete hopelessness toward life, and having constant thoughts of suicide. You are utterly depressed, fearful of others, and have complete lack of trust for anyone and everyone, while also being completely suspicious of everyone around you. And, since you can’t escape this psychological place, your grief can’t be processed properly and only seems to accumulate. NONE of this happens by choice. It is not a sign of weakness. It is not about “holding on” or not being able to “get over it.” What happens is a physiological response to the brain being flooded with stress. As I stated in my last post, any type of overwhelming stress can cause this.
In my situation, it was as if an iron brand was heated over a hot fire, then stamped down onto my brain and held there until whatever normal responses were wired there before were completely erased, and what was left was an actual movie of the visions described below playing over and over and over again, seared into my mind…
Shani’s Dead, lured to Zeke’s apartment, called me on the way, hit with 3 shots, one, two, three, in the side of her head, blood splattered all over the car, bullet holes in the windshield, your car, the car you had together for the past 10 years, the doggie car, her head, blown apart, the detective, “She’s dead,” reporters e-mailing me, the news stories, interviewing people who didn’t know her, internet posts about being a horrible mother, accusations, the mortician, the visitation, cremated, the house, the memorial, everyone…everyone gone, all alone, you’re alone…..the bond hearing, Zeke, in shackles, shaking his head, the reporter next to me, “Do you have anything to say?” Home, the internet, “Son Says Killing Mother Was an Adrenaline Rush.”
This has been my brain since 6:49 p.m. on June 2, 2009. Nobody can imagine. Nobody can know. Nobody can relate. This isn’t something you just “get over” or just “move on” from.
Who would choose to remain in this mental state? After having to deal with the loss of your loved one? Would you expect to grieve over the loss? Of course! Would this be what you would choose for yourself as a life afterward? It’s as if your brain suddenly turns on you. All you want to do is to let it go, but your mind will not allow it, and through time, it feels like your body is eating away at itself from the inside out. This is not like getting over your girlfriend who left you at the prom. This is not like being rejected from the college you applied to. This is not about GETTING OVER anything.
This is trauma! The truest form any one person could ever experience, and it will be forever seared into my subconscious.
A person’s brain is a complicated computer that stores information in various ways. The unexpected surge of physical or emotional trauma stores itself in the reptilian part of our brains, which is responsible for our most basic, animalistic, self-preservation traits. It controls fight or flight, our natural responses to severe external factors. However, animals have a built-in mechanism to discharge the trauma energy after an event, whereas humans do not. When free from danger, animals “shake it off,” but we can’t. We store the memory in a way that the perceived threat ends up only existing in our minds, yet the body continues to react to it. What eventually manifests as debilitating emotional and mental health issues could actually be seen as an animalistic form of self preservation, using the triggers as a reminder of potential danger. While helpful to animals, this natural response overrides normal human logic.
I knew right away that I was going to have a fight on my hands. I knew that this situation could break me completely, so I did what I knew how to do best and that was to exercise until I reached the point of exhaustion. I worked out for a couple of hours every day until I collapsed. Surprisingly though, I still couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t from overtraining. My brain kept telling me to be prepared for a threat of attack or danger and kept me in a constant fight or flight state. Any number of seemingly mundane events, sights, or sounds triggered a visit to this horrific place in my brain. A loud noise could cause the vision of Shani being shot to instantly pop into my head. The sight of a teenage boy with red hair or even a glimpse of an Isuzu Rodeo would send me into a sudden state of shock. And during moments of stillness, terrifying visions would play in my head again and again. It is almost beyond description.
My body was responding naturally to the situation. People would suggest that I was going to have to move on or that I needed to let go, which only increased my desperation. Without anyone in my life who could understand, I felt completely isolated, and suicide became a common thought. While it wasn’t a conscious option, I did begin to worry that it could happen in a sleepless stupor after not having rested for days. It is possible to reach that level of desperation and take action without a full awareness of what you are doing, and I saw that potential in my own experience. I was afraid of myself.
I sought professional help, and it was through therapy that I learned about how my body was responding to the trauma now permanently cemented in my brain. I began to gain an awareness of the PTSD that I was going to have to deal with on some level for the rest of my life.
I can’t stop the thoughts from surfacing. The triggers will always be there in some form or another, and they are everywhere. And frankly, the intensity hasn’t decreased over time, but my ability to deal with them has gotten much better. I understand that when I am sitting at a table in a restaurant and a server drops a tray that I am the only one whose brain will process the resulting loud noise as that of Shani being shot to death. This is part of my existence. It is like constantly living in a horror movie, but I’ve come to find a strength in knowing that I’m the character who will survive in the end. I’m the one that can make it through the craziness without losing my mind. I win, by not fighting it.
As Sean once said, “Some people just see things we’re not meant to see.” That is the best layman’s definition of PTSD I’ve heard. It’s true. Soldiers are just men and women who witness the worst that humanity has to offer. They will never shake those images from their minds, and the longer they try to escape them, the longer they will suffer. It’s hard to believe that anyone could make peace with the things that they or I see, but it is possible. It takes time and a lot of effort. It takes hanging on and screaming to God at the top of your lungs at four o’clock in the morning. It takes prayer. It takes help. It takes not being self-destructive, and it takes many, many tears. It takes an amazing willingness to let go.
Many times, I have likened my state of mind to that of Brad Pitt in “Fight Club” when he gets hit again and again by Edward Norton and just smiles at him. I got to that point. I knew it was going to hit me and that I could do nothing about it, but I had to believe that eventually it would punch itself out, and it did. My tolerance for the pain grew, and I got hit in the same spot so many times, it began to hurt less. Make no bones about it though, it is a sneaky adversary. You never leave the boxing ring. Instead, as you walk away with your hands in the air claiming victory, the Rodeo drives right through the ring throwing a cheap shot across my jaw.
It’s always going to be there.
If you know of anyone struggling from PTSD, the best thing you can do for them is to listen and not judge. They may say things that sound horrific, but understand that they are just sharing their experience with you. I have had some unbelievable support from friends and family staying up with me until the early hours of the morning for days on end. They may have even been bothered by what I said at times, but they hung in there with me. The more I was able to share, the less isolated and alone I felt. My support system was unwavering in the ugliest of times.
If you’re the person who struggles with the disorder, demand that type of attention and support, and if people don’t give it to you, keep talking until you get it. Someone will listen. They don’t have to understand completely in order to listen, so don’t expect them to get it. Maybe through time, they can learn more about what it is you’re dealing with, but no one can completely relate unless they experience it themselves. We just need people with whom we can let it fly!
You are not crazy. You are not alone. It feels like it a lot of the time, but with the amount of veterans coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan, PTSD is now gaining a lot of attention from the mental health community. Someone out there can help you. Don’t give up on yourself. Eventually, you can find a level of acceptance and strength in your struggle that can allow you to have a perspective on life that most people will never have. You can have an appreciation for life that goes deeper than the unwounded will ever know.
God Bless,
Mike
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