My counselor called to give me her bill. I've actually been waiting on this for a month now so I can submit it to our insurance company. Apparently I have a choice of diagnosises. No idea how you pluralize diagnosis. Anyway, I can either have PTSD or Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My pick. Whoopie. I told her to put whatever would be best for the insurance to have...PTSD it is.
Now before you think, why the hell are you putting that on the web...the reason I'm writing on the web is a form of therapy for me. I can't very well hide the fact that fireworks make me cry or that I panic under extreme stress or crowded places. For me, acknowledging that something isn't right has been a long struggle.
I'm not even sure it started with the war.
I first went to a counselor when I got my first apartment and couldn't seem to keep it clean. I actually burst into tears talking to my mother one day when she was giving me a hard time about the mess. I screamed at her, "I don't want to clean my room". Why? I like a clean house, why didn't I want to clean my house? Why did cleaning make me cry?
I had one session with a counselor, and it was probably the best session I've ever had. I wish I'd gone back. I wish I remembered her name or had her card. I never, ever would have thought that other children with single mothers would have low self esteem. Apparently it's quite common. Children who "raise" their parents fail. They can't take care of the emotional needs of their parents and grow up trying to control life and be a perfect person. They want to please people. My mother, who I love very much, has an anxiety disorder herself and didn't get help until I was in middle school.
Is that a catch all? No. Just knowing that there might be a reason that I was a mess that wasn't my fault opened my mind to the possibility of becoming a better, stronger person.
What it does show is that I was probably more vulnerable than most when I went to Iraq. The irony is that it took me years to build up my esteem, I'd say I still struggle, and now I have to deal with anxiety and stress.
I think I've got a pretty good attitude about it all. Some people come back from war without limbs, others come back seriously emotionally damaged. I have a minor case of PTSD with possibly minor traumatic brain injury. I'm trying to figure out how to live with the new me. It's a very scary future because it doesn't really go away. I have good days and bad days, but mostly good days.
4 comments:
Bethany -- It IS possible to cure PTSD! I'm a trauma survivor who struggled with undiagnosed chronic/extreme PTSD for 25 years.
And now here I am today, into my second year of being completely PTSD-free.
So, a shoulder to cry on, an arm to lean on, from one PTSD experiencer to another I'm just stopping by to tell you that YOU create the new you. Trauma changes us, for sure, but then we decide what direction the change takes.
I write a healing PTSD blog; we're in the middle of a no-cost healing PTSD workshop. Come join us. It's never too late to jump in.
None of us should ever feel without hope or alone. Together we can heal and bridge the gap between PTSD and a joyful life.
Michele,
Thank you for your initiative in contacting PTSD survivors and letting them/us know there is hope for the future.
As I mentioned earlier, I'm in a phase of my life where I'm learning to accept that I have changed and am a different person than I was before. Although I realize that people go through many different traumatic experiences, war, for me changed me in a way that I will never be the same person again.
That's not necessarily a bad thing. I feel that from my experience I've grown as an individual and that, while I now have some difficulties, overall I'm better able to accept flaws in myself, make healthy decisions about my well being, and relate to those who have experienced a life 180.
I'm happy you feel that you are PTSD free. While I'm skeptical of any method used to "cure" PTSD I wish you the best. My take on the disorder is that I need to learn to walk again. Just like someone who has lost an arm or a leg, I have to go through physical therapy to find a way to overcome the obstacle of my loss.
Unless traumatic brain injury can be reversed, which up until now involves experimental drugs or expensive invasive surgery, I think I'm going to be different. I process information differently. I act differently at times.
But, most importantly, I don't act or process THAT differently. Just enough to notice that I'm different. I don't believe I'm less intelligence, just less able to express my intelligence while under stress. I expect that after a while I will be better equipped to deal with stress (I've already seen improvement) but I acknowledge that it is okay for me to be injured. That was the heart of my blog, accepting myself for who I am now at this present moment.
Again, thanks for reading.
Bethany
*Hugs*
If writing helps, keep doing it. I know it helped me through Trystan's surgeries. I was both blogging about the actual events, and also attempting to write a romance novel. It might seem counter-intuitive to others, but to sit and put my thoughts and feeling on (e-)paper, and also to work through the emotions of made-up characters (who weren't involved in any way with infants or life-threatening anything) helped. It helped a lot.
And in a small way, I hope that what I write might help someone else. Maybe just one person. One mother of a new baby with similar problems to my son's. One mother who randomly finds my blog and sees, not only the saga of his medical issues, but also his smiling cherubic little face, and finds a moment of comfort and hope. If I do that once, for one person, for 5 minutes, then that makes my writing even more important.
I couldn't agree more. Writing helps.
And, I think reading about your life, even though it's totally unrelated to my life or my problems, helps too. Okay, that sounds weird and creepy..I mean reading about someone else's ups and down. It reminds me that we all have things we're working on. They might be different things, but there are similarities as well. Close enough to help, far enough away that it isn't overpowering.
Thanks for the hugs! You can pass a few around to the family from me :)
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