Wednesday, June 15, 2016

PTSD // In Which I Rant a Little


Though I’ve been planning this piece for several months now, I almost decided not to post it just yet, in the light of the events in Orlando, since I don’t want to draw attention away from what the victims’ families are going through. But then I got to thinking that the survivors of the shooting will also experience PTSD, most likely, so maybe this is more relevant than I had realized. 

So today we’re going to talk about what it’s like to live with civilian PTSD. 

I find it surprising how often people assume PTSD is only something you get if you’ve been in the military on active duty. You go out; you fight people; you shoot and get shot. Maybe you get a few limbs blown off. And then you come home a different, more difficult person. You lose buddies, and they haunt your sleep. You hold inside the things you can never explain, the things you’ve seen that can’t be unseen. You spend a lot of time feeling like a cornered animal. 

Military PTSD is legitimate and you should never sweep it under the rug, don’t get me wrong, but the same goes for civilian PTSD. Just because we can’t pull up the more commonly heard type of war story by way of explanation doesn’t mean we aren’t still stuck in a mental battlefield. 

There were several factors that contributed to my PTSD, but I’ve already talked about the main event in a previous post, so if you want the long story, I would advise you to go there. The CliffsNotes version is that I was evacuated from Ivory Coast (twice) when my town became a war zone (twice). 

Because of the night I spent cowering on the floor listening to bombs falling a mile away, I cannot stand fireworks. My brain hears the fireworks exploding, thinks they are bombs, and starts preparing to lose everyone and everything all over again. It doesn’t matter that I know fireworks are recreational and beautiful and harmless if you practice appropriate precaution. It doesn’t matter if I can see them, although it sometimes helps a little. It doesn’t even matter that it’s unlikely I will lose everything for a third time. All that matters is that fireworks sound like bombs to me. The same goes for slamming doors and any other sort of loud, abrupt noise. 

All of this can be incredibly embarrassing, like the multiple times I’ve freaked out during firework shows at the camp where I worked during the summer, or the time I had a full on panic attack when our camp flooded during a thunderstorm and I was told to save my most valuable possessions and leave the rest behind. Last week a piece of wood fell onto the tile floor in our apartment, and I instinctively took cover because my brain misinterpreted the bang as a gunshot. When I attended my grandfather’s funeral and the honor guard fired their guns in salute at the cemetery, it took great effort not to dive behind the nearest vehicle. 

One of the biggest problems is that it is easy for people who have never experienced something traumatic to assume I am merely overreacting, that what I went through could not have had such a profound effect on my psyche. I have been laughed at. I have been told to grow up and get over it. I have been accused of doing this for attention. Because yes, I just love that feeling when my knees get so weak I can’t even support myself so the girl’s staff boss has to carry me on her back to my cabin while everyone stares at my tear-splotchy face. I just love forgetting where I am and how old I am. I love the overly-concerned and confused looks I get when my body is shutting down but my mind is on high alert. I love getting looked at like I’m broken glass or a time bomb. I just love it when everyone knows why I have the week off counseling after the fourth of July. I love it when the rumors get back to me. I even have PTSD attacks on my own time when no one is watching and no one is available to help me through them because I love having them so much. Clearly I am doing this for attention. *

*So that we’re absolutely clear on this point, if you can’t see the sarcasm dripping off that last paragraph, then it’s possible you are part of the problem.

Those outside my mind who think they have permission to judge it are right when they say there is nothing wrong with my body. In fact, they are right when they say it is all in my head. 

That is the problem. 

It is in my head, and it won’t ever go away. There will always be a part of me that is still seven years old and cowering in the hallway praying we won’t get hit by a stray bomb, praying the mob outside won’t try to break down the gate, praying the gunshots are going into the air and not into people. I had no way of knowing whether or not I was going to survive that night, so there will always be that small part of me that came away convinced the end was still coming, that small part that’s still braced for that final, fatal bomb to fall—that small part that still avoids windows on bad days because STRAY BULLET, STRAY BULLET, WHAT IF THERE’S A STRAY BULLET. 

I avoid large crowds when I can, and when I can’t I have to grit my teeth and bear it. All those voices, loud and talkative and undisciplined, garble together until they sound like the angry roar outside my home. When I go on trips or move house I have to pack slowly or I start to panic because it feels like seven-year-old me all over again, choosing what to take with me and what to leave behind forever. 

It has been almost twelve years since that November, and I still have nightmares and flashbacks. I still have trouble convincing my mind it's safe enough to fall asleep at night. Telling me to get over it will not suddenly make me better. I can promise you, I wish I had a sound brain. I wish my mind and body didn’t betray me at the worst moments. I wish I hadn’t been through something so painful and hard to understand. 

I don’t usually get what I wish for. 

So a word to the wise. If you see someone freaking out about loud noises or having a flashback, do not laugh. Don’t you dare belittle them. So help me, do not make it worse. If you can’t help them, at least stay clear of their personal bubble, keep your mouth shut, and don’t stare. Or better yet, find someone who can help. If you want to help, respect their space, use a soft voice, remind the person of where they are, remind them that they are safe, talk about unrelated positive things to distract them (but don’t talk too much). Help them get grounded in reality again. Listen to them. Keep a crowd from forming. Be aware of their response to physical contact because sometimes a hug is helpful and sometimes a hug is an attack. Use your common sense. Realize that you are there to be a friend, not a psychiatrist. We don’t always have people on hand to help us through our PTSD attacks, so we generally know how to manage on our own, but you could help so much just by being understanding and gentle. 

Despite the patronizing and unhelpful people I have encountered along the way, I have also had wonderfully supportive people who have stepped up to help at some of my most vulnerable moments. I have had peers lend me their music and earbuds on multiple occasions in hopes of helping me block out the sound of fireworks. I have had people lend my sister and me their cars so we can drive away from the noise. I have had people sit with me and talk to me and help me during these times. I am extremely grateful that these sorts of people exist. 

Please don’t be the sort of person who makes it worse. Please be the kind soul who understands. 

Thank you for listening. It's not something I like talking about at all, so I appreciate your willingness to read this whole thing. 


What about you, my little coffee beans? How many of you have had flashbacks? How many of you know at least one person with PTSD?

19 comments:

  1. Liz, whenever you have posts like these I honestly don't know what to say, because nothing I can say will make it better. I wish I could make things better for you, I wish I could take the hurt away, I wish I could completely understand because no matter how much you talk about it it's something I could never fully understand. I wish we didn't live in a world where these things happened, I wish I could do something to stop it from happening. I suppose all I can do is pray for you, because we serve a God who can do those things, and as much as it sucks I believe that He has a plan for you and that He'll never leave you. Thank you so much for sharing.

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    1. It's funny, because even having gone through these things, I still don't usually know what to say to others who have gone through similar stuff, so I totally understand. But believe me, it does help a lot to know that, even if you don't know what to say, you still wish you could make it better. Even if you can't understand fully because you haven't experienced it, the fact that you're still trying to understand means a lot. But yeah, it would be so much nicer if things like this didn't happen. I appreciate your prayer. :) Thank you for your encouragement, and you're welcome. :)

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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  2. I can't believe people would laugh or belittle you for this. Gah, how dense can humans be sometimes?! PTSD is very real and I guess it has different levels based on different experiences, but that doesn't make it less real. I have never experienced something huge like this so I can't personally relate except for the fact that I have a sensory issues so I hate loud noises and they can honestly drive me to tears. So I know the reasoning isn't the same, but I do know what it's like to be terrified by something unexpectedly loud. *sends you coffee cake* I think if humans were just altogether more kind and understanding and tried to see things from other's perspective, the world would 1000% be a better place.

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    1. Some people are remarkably dense. *shakes head* Sometimes it feels like a willful denseness too, like some people just don't want to understand, for whatever reason. *accepts the coffee cake* *eats it all* I'm sorry you have to deal with sensory issues. That can't be much fun. *sends you coffee cake* The world would definitely improve if humans tried to be more empathetic in general. *nods*

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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  3. This was beautifully written. I have a basic understanding of PTSD, but I always appreciate things like this because they make me understand more. And I really admire your bravery for writing about this and talking to the entire world, even after people have laughed at you for it.

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    1. Aww, thank you! :) I'm glad you were able to get something out of this. :) And thank you. :) People like you definitely help to make up for the people who laugh. :)

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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  4. I never knew this about you, Liz. I wish you didn't have to go through it, but I'm sure that God has a reason for it. And I think it's a good reason. *gives you hug*

    I'm glad you shared this even though it must have been difficult. I think people need to know that PTSD is a real thing, and that it doesn't only happen to people in the military. It's not something that people should laugh at or make fun of. I can't believe that you've actually been a victim of people like that. How unfeeling!

    I sure it took much courage to be able to share this. I don't think I would have been able to after being made fun of. Thank you for reminding me that this is a real thing and for telling me what I can do to help someone with PTSD.

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    1. Yeah, it's not something I tend to bring up in normal conversation. :) Thank you. :) I'm sure as well, even though it's frustrating. *hugs you back*

      Thank you. :) It is important for other people to understand, at least on some level, what they're fellow humans are experiencing. I wish there weren't the bad eggs who make themselves feel better by poking fun. But ah well. That just shows their ignorance.

      You're welcome. :) It wasn't easy to write about, no, but I'm glad I did because I do want to help people to understand.

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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  5. *hugs* You need lots of hugs. If I was there in person I would give you so many hugs you'd get tired of them. Since I was in my car accident in April, I've dealt with a more minor form of PTSD. I get extremely nervous when making left turns in a car or even if I'm driving with someone and they make a left turn. Any remote form of reckless driving freaks me out. My heartbeat escalates almost any time I get in my car. I can't stand the smell of new car anymore because it reminds me of the burnt plastic smell I inhaled when I came to after getting hit by the car. I've only had one extreme flashback and it was one of the scariest things I'd ever felt. It happened when I was in the middle of driving and I had to pull over and call a friend to get through it a half hour later. My mom doesn't understand how hard it is for me and often tells me to just "Let it go" or "Get over it." I try to tell her that I can't, but it she doesn't get it. The past two months have been trying to find a way to cope with it. So yes. I get what you're feeling Liz.

    I really admire how open you are to talking about this. I didn't understand PTSD fully until I got it myself. I'd really like to spread more awareness about this. Would you be interested in being interview for my So Your Character Is ... series? I've been doing a mental illness/handicap segment, but I've been really delicate about asking for participants. I'd love to have you, but I get it if it would be too tough to talk about. I want people to understand how to write PTSD and I think the best way to learn is from someone who's dealt with it. It'd also be informing more people about it. Are you up for that?

    Praying for you Liz. It's hard to imagine what you went through, but I'm glad you're alive and here. You've been a real blessing. *hugs again*

    storitorigrace.blogspot.com

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    1. *hugs you back* I'm so sorry you were in a car accident. But I totally understand why that would leave you with PTSD. I was a passenger in a car accident about a year ago, and I have experienced some of the same responses you have, so I totally understand (and I will be praying for you). Don't be too hard on yourself, either. Your mind will start to get a little more comfortable with driving with time, even if you still struggle with anxiety. I'm still only comfortable in a car when I'm the person driving, and I had a couple flashbacks earlier on. I'm so sorry your mother hasn't been understanding. I wish you didn't have to go through that added stress, because it makes it so much worse. I hope your brain is able to settle into more of a rhythm so you won't be too inconvenienced. But yeah, car accidents are supremely terrifying, and you are not ridiculous at all for feeling the way you do. The brain doesn't recover well from situations where it thinks it's going to die horribly.

      Thank you. :) It's definitely taken me a while to come to this point, and it's not necessarily freeing, but it's nice to be able to help outsiders understand and to be there for those who can relate. But yeah, it is one of those issues you only truly understand if you're experiencing it yourself, which I wouldn't wish on anyone. I would love to help you spread awareness, and I'm really honored that you'd ask me. :) Feel free to use the contact form on my sidebar to message me about it (or, if you would prefer to contact me some other way, just let me know). It would be really nice to inform more people so they can write us properly. :) (Sorry I was slow to get back to you about this. And also, sorry I've been slow to catch up on your blog. I hope to soon.)

      Thank you. :) Praying for you too. I am glad you're alive and here, too. You've been a real blessing yourself. *hugs you back*

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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    2. It seems like from what I'm hearing that car accidents are really traumatic for anyone. I was driving and it was just awful. It's finally getting better now that the entire affair is dealt with.

      Thank you for your willingness. That would be amazing. I'll shoot you a message. I know you've been going through a rough patch. I've been going through one too so I get it.

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    3. Same. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, but I'm glad it's starting to get better. :)

      You're welcome. :) Thank you for being understanding. :)

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  6. This was a very eye opening post, Liz. *hugs* I have never seen someone have a panic attack, but this will help if I ever do. <3

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    1. *hugs you back* Thank you for reading. :) I'm glad you were able to get something from it. :)

      Thank you for commenting. :) <3

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  7. That's really bad that people still laugh about things like this and just don't 'get it.' They don't realize that PTSD exists and its sad. I'm sorry people have been so rude and unfeeling to you. That's very frustrating when people not only fail to understand but then are obnoxious about their ignorance. I hope it does get better, but I know that doesn't always happen.

    I had a car accident about three or four years ago. I was okay. But for the longest time I would get nervous whenever I felt my tires loose just a little traction. Even just driving around a curve, I would tense up and I'd have to tell myself to relax. It's not as bad now, but occasionally I do still get anxiety about driving at unexpected moments. I've always feared that one day I'll panic and not be able to think clearly when something happens or confuse the gas and brake petals (I used to do that when I was learning). Out of the blue, my brain will turn to horrible 'what if' scenarios that seem very real. It usually happens when I'm just about to fall asleep and it jolts me awake and keeps me up half the night. I might have alluded to this once to my friend, but I don't really tell people. I'm a little afraid they won't understand or they'll look at me weird, like you were saying. I also tend to be hard on myself and, like you said, I don't want weird attention.

    Sorry for the long comment. I'm sorry you experienced the scare of losing everything and everyone in an instance. Nobody should have to go through that. Especially so young. But thank you for sharing your experience.

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    1. It is really bad that people laugh at things they don't get. I mean, if someone doesn't understand, they don't understand. Oh well. But laughing about it and making fun is so uncalled for. Thank you for your kindness. :)

      I was a passenger in a car accident a year ago, and I'm still nervous riding in cars, so I understand how you feel. My brain does the same thing with horrible 'what if' scenarios, but they usually happen when I'm in the car. :P I'm sorry yours mess with your sleep. That's no fun. :( It is definitely hard to talk about because it's so hard to make outsiders understand. It's just one of those things you can't fully get until you've experienced it to some degree. And I'm the same. I almost didn't publish this post, because while I wanted to help people understand, I didn't want people to assume I was fishing for sympathy. I've been trying to force myself to talk about this stuff more, but yeah, there's always that internal pressure to just shut up and keep it to myself. I'm sorry you've had to deal with the fall out from the car accident. I've always ranked car accidents as one of the top worst things that can happen to people. I've already been in two, and I hope I'll never be in another one.

      No worries. I love long comments. :) Any time you have a lot to say, I'm happy to read it. :) And thank you for your kindness and understanding. It means a lot. :) You're welcome. :)

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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  8. I think this is very important and I don't think you're alone at all. There's a terrible lack of understanding about PTSD of all kinds, but especially the civilian variety. I think this was a really meaningful post, Liz. I don't really have anything else to say—just know that you are brave and important and I'm grateful that you're adding your own perspective to the mix. :)

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    1. Thank you. :) I think part of the issue is that military PTSD gets represented the most often when it comes to media, so people can forget about/undermine civilian PTSD. Thank you. :) I really appreciate that. :)

      Thank you for commenting. :)

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