Me and My Ptsd

     Post traumatic stress disorder has different sizes and flavors.  My PTSD is a result of the traumatic, chaotic, and incredibly stress-full childhood I survived. I wasn’t just hit, or yelled at. I witnessed countless acts of violence and abuse against other family members, as well. Somebody in my home was always in trouble. Me, my mom or the dogs were constantly being yelled at or worse.  We were constantly moving in and out of my grandparents basement. Holidays were dread-full. The end result being, I have difficulty coping with stress-full situations or stress-full environments. Which means normal activities, especially social ones, are often next to impossible for me to function through.  Even if I manage to hide any negative feelings, I can’t control the shaking inside. At some point I will  have some sort of outburst. Most people who interact with me do not realize that every little sound can make me panic. Someone yelling or making fast movements while other things are happening around me, trigger fear-full reactions inside me. Some people just flinch, but I can’t show my reactions. I was programmed not to show any response. Any show of fear, tears, gasping, flinching, anything visible to my abuser brought more negative words and harder blows. I tend to hold my breath as things trigger feelings. Some of the triggers are obvious to me and I realize I am having feelings that aren’t appropriate for the current situation, but were triggered by it, and other times, I have no idea, someone is going to say something  that will trigger hidden feelings inside, that have not yet been labeled, or dealt with. The symptoms of ptsd are not straight forward. They are forever lurking, and reoccurring with new roots and causes.
            Most days for me are like playing a never ending round of connect the dots. Some days the dots all line up, and other days they do not. Meaning sometimes I can do normal things, and interact normally with others, and some days I cannot.  Most of the trouble I have is dealing with the hidden emotions and buried memories. The second layer of trouble comes with the knowledge that even if I encounter someone who doesn’t directly trigger feelings, and memories, I might do or say something that makes them uncomfortable, only awakening more issues from the intense programming I endured as a child. Most of these moments bring partial memories, with intense feelings of fear , contempt, and insecurity, all tangled as one reaction. I was told over and over how disgusting, worthless, and less than shit, I was.  Sometimes it isn’t even as simple, as uncovering feelings toward my abuser, the complications often reveal feelings of disgust toward myself. I constantly had to agree that my feelings or behavior were disgusting, I was disgusting and very deserving of far worse than I actually received. Although I can logically pin point where the feelings and reactions come from and so on, it takes a lot of thinking, trial and error and sometimes even re- realization to address and deal with each instance, as it happens. Each episode triggered brings the process all over again. Then while trying to put the knowledge, and the thoughts into feelings, sometimes the answers get lost and I have to start all over again. All the while I’m still trying to function and do normal things, like interact with my kids, work, grocery shop. No activities are free of triggers. They happen everywhere and anywhere.
You see, my ptsd isn’t just about the abuse endured or survived, it’s about the damage it caused and the difficulties it still creates. I don’t wake up in the morning wondering what miserable things I can complain about from my past. I wake up hoping today I will get things done and interact well with my family, without the distraction of unwanted feelings and memories triggered by any old thing and nothing in particular. I pray for days that I can avoid any outbursts that result in some-ones feelings other than mine being hurt.
All my experiences in dealing with my ptsd, combined with the experiences of being a parent, have left me  with the realization that abuse of any kind, weather direct, or inadvertent, leaves scars. Scars that not only resurface later, but create more situations and opportunities for the victim to be abused again by others, and also leaving the victim with many opportunities to abuse others. I truly believe my ptsd symptoms are at least three or four generations in the making. My primary abusers, abuser was mistreated by an alcoholic parent, raised mostly by nannies until a certain age then shipped of to prep schools. At fifteen he was on a British naval ship. He then came to America to live in poverty for years, while raising a family and drowning his past with alcohol. I heard endless stories about the guns he ran on the ship and  gruesome details about World War ll. My point being, I think it is extremely important to close the gap between accepting ptsd as a legitimate problem in our society, and understanding it well enough to limit its effects on the innocent bi-standers. I believe if more people come together to understand ptsd, how it is caused, and how it gets passed along so effortlessly, we could make a huge impact on issues ranging from child abuse, and addictions to criminal behavior.
I have come to the conclusion that it is just as important for the loved ones of ptsd  sufferers to understand the process, as it is for the survivors themselves. I understand my ptsd, and now I want others to understand as well!