Inhaling Chaos : Invisible Scars

Veteran’s Day made me think of something that had happened recently. I was recently with someone that is an active member of our armed services. He’s done a few tours already and been in the throes of things over the years. He is a happy, well-adjusted family man that has a carefree smile and the warm personality to go with all of that. His service came up and he readily talked about it, answering questions and speaking how he truly is happy and feels lucky to serve his country. At one point though, the conversation shifted and there was a perceptible change. And to some it may just have seemed as though he was somber due to what he was talking about. The thing is though, I know where he went; I’ve been to that place myself many times.

I am by no means comparing myself or my struggle to that of a service member that has been in combat but I too have been through a battle, and I too carry the invisible scars that it left me with.

After I could barely drag myself from bed and had stopped sleeping, I began seeing a psychiatrist. I was skeptical to begin with and more so when she had diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I remember thinking, ‘that’s ridiculous, I’m just grieving.’ But after tossing it around in my mind and recalling all of the background information I have from my counseling psych degrees I couldn’t deny that it fit: agitation, hyper-vigilance, social isolation, severe anxiety and vivid recall or flashbacks triggered by everything or nothing at all; all of it was what I had been experiencing regularly since Jack had died. I think it felt to me then like I didn’t have the right to have something like this assigned to me when there were people protecting our country and other countries from atrocities-seeing and experiencing the unimaginable that were coming home with this baggage. But really, hadn’t I been through something unfathomable myself? I went to the hospital hoping to get some treatment for my unborn son and within thirty-six hours was being told that there was no scenario in which I would be taking him home with me. He was born quickly and was gone almost as quickly. It was traumatic; there is no other way to classify it.

So I may not have the same triggers, loud noises and ceiling fans are not what take me back there; for me it’s bright overhead lights, hospitals and certain sounds and smells. But I get it. There are times where something happens and I am right back in Philadelphia, unable to breathe. I know what it is like to be present and in the moment one minute and then back in the worst moments of my life the next. I know what it’s like to lie awake at night, not because I’m not tired-in fact quite the opposite, the exhaustion sometimes crushing-but because I am running through each second of that day over and over; wanting to forget and fearing I’d forget all at the same time. I know what it is like to look completely fine on the outside to everyone around you and feel like you’ve completely fallen apart on the inside.

So what do you do with this? How do you move forward when sometimes you feel completely stuck in one day? I guess it depends on the person but, for me, I try my best to stay as rooted in my present as I can; take in every single moment and will my heart and mind to absorb those. I surround myself with people that I know love me, root for me, and are there waiting patiently if I get stuck in January 25th, 2015 every so often. I smile and laugh when I can and allow myself some grace when I can’t.

It’s been a long while since I’ve written. I’ve felt bad about it but I’ve been busy living and that isn’t something that has always come easy over the last three and a half years. I will carry these wounds in my heart for as long as I live and it will not always be pretty. There is no expiration for PTSD; there is no magic cure. If you know someone with these invisible scars-love them, care for them, let them have the moments they need to find their footing again and give them a hand if they can’t find their balance on their own.