Wonderful World

PTSD: Not Just for Soldiers Anymore

Prompt: 6/27 World PTSD Awareness Day

I'm not a soldier. I'm not a battered spouse. Some of the things that give me nightmares would just be called plain stupid. Still I want to give people an idea what it's like to live with PTSD and the stigmas I've encountered.

This is the obligatory paragraph explaining what the acronym PTSD means. The full name of the condition is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. To be diagnosed with the Disorder, the symptoms have to appear at least six weeks from the time of the traumatic incident. A trauma is an event that is life threatening or harmful to an individual that either happens to that person or someone close to them. It is a chronic condition that cannot be cured, only managed through medication and talk therapy. So there, if you didn't know, there it is.

I have suffered a few traumas that I know of. I was verbally abused by my father and saw him verbally abuse my mother and brother. My husband died ten months after we were married. I miscarried two pregnancies.(Please nobody Law and Order:SVU me. It's TMI already and I don't want to go into detail on the matter.) I also got attacked on the job a few times.

For the sake of avoiding anything not allowed in the Weird and Wonky world challenge, I'm only going to go into the death of my husband and the most recent workplace attack. I'll talk about how the long term abuse impacted me but none of the other stuff. Just the after math so to speak.

When I went to college, I went out of state and thought I'd escaped the pain of the past. I was very wrong.

A few months into my college education, I started having nightmares that my dad was yelling at me again. In the dreams, my dad was just as mean and self centered as I remember. I'd start shouting back in my sleep—or worse, start crying.

A few times I woke up from these nightmares either feeling burning tears or screaming some insult at the top of my lungs. This is not the sort of behavior you want in a roommate. Most of them were good enough not to complain about my acting out my dreams. However this wasn't always the case.

One year, I had a roommate from Japan. She and I got along well enough for a time. She even confided in me on the first day we met that she wanted to know more about PTSD because she thought it was so amazing that people could be so strong.

That changed quickly. The problem with having a trauma in your past is that it often makes you easily startled and irritable. My Japanese roommate wasn't too fond of my somewhat angry outbursts.

I went to therapy to try and manage the damage my PTSD was doing. I was dumb enough to tell my roommate that I was getting therapy for this disorder. Within forty eight hours she had decided to move out and had called Campus Security to help. She viewed me as that much of a threat.

I continued therapy for my condition and after a while I felt ready to manage things on my own. Life was good and I wasn't having nightmares anymore. There wasn't anyone to tell me if I'd stopped yelling in my sleep so maybe that part hadn't gone away. I was doing so good that by the time I got engaged to my boyfriend, Joe, I figured I was dealing pretty well with life.

After a short engagement of only a year and a month, Joe and I got married. We planned our whole lives together. Having kids, getting a place of our own and doing the whole career bit. None of that was going to happen.

On December thirty-first, two thousand and fourteen, a man driving under the influence of both alcohol and illegal drugs drove down the wrong side of the highway. My husband was on his way home from his swing shift at the grocery store. The intoxicated driver hit Joe's car head on killing both of them.

I started having nightmares again. Even though I wasn't in the car I still had weird dreams. It was always the same. I'd be chasing Joe through an empty field or marshland. I'd call his name over and over again but he never turned around. He'd disappear before I could reach him. I always woke up weeping.

It's taken years, talk therapy, a couple of spiritual experiences and a religious ritual.(I've written about what that is in my blog The Real CJCOLDS; not relevant here.) I feel like I've healed a little.

Then I got a job at a Ghost Ship, a haunted attraction. It was great at first but that changed on Flag Day 2019.

I was a scare actor playing the part of a prisoner in the ship's brig. We had pipes on chains posing as bars and my job was to try to act all tough, rattle the chains before stepping through to "chase after" guests. It was fun until a large man stopped in front of my cell.

I have no clue what this guy was thinking. I rattled the bars as he gave me a thousand yard stare. I barely managed to growl "hey" and next thing I knew this guy steps through the bars and starts shaking me so hard I couldn't say a word. I couldn't even scream for help!

I managed to get this man off me and I was so upset by that incident that I reported it to the managers on duty. The man who was now leaving the ship said "I didn't do anything."

Well I would find out what a lie that was. When I got to the first aid trailer, the nurse was already treating my co-worker. The same guy who had shook me had punched this co-worker—and some mannequins—square in the chest. Both I and the other victim wanted to press charges. Without telling us, our employer dropped charges against our assailant.

Which is too bad. This guy hurt my co-worker, damaged the set and as I later found out I had a concussion from how hard this man shook me.

I argued with the medic who wanted to send me to Urgent Care. I said I'd go later. I wasn't thinking clearly and I just wanted to go home.

As I was waiting for my ride to pick me up the two responding officers walked up to me. One of them said, "you really held your own there." I was so out of it I just said, "I did?"

I've no idea what he meant. Was he impressed or had I done something wrong? I still don't know.

I eventually ended up quitting because of the attack and other incidents. They were sick of me anyways. Asking me if I was sure I really wanted to be there.


Since then I've started having nightmares about that guy shaking me and my head falls off. Either that or I dream my bosses are telling me off for being melodramatic at work. See? I told you most people would think my traumas are dumb.

People probably think I should just "get over myself". (No I've actually been told that by a few people. Sometimes they tell me to grow thicker skin.)

What they can't possibly know is that because of the traumas in my life, not only am I a walking anger issue with a chip on my shoulder, I'm very odd.

I'll always be looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is sneaking up on me. I'm hyper vigilant and always thinking something else bad will happen. If something that reminds me of the traumatic incidents happens, I immediately feel like I'm right back in that moment. It causes a panic so strong it's difficult to controll. But to my credit I haven't punched anyone or broke anything or killed anyone because of PSTD.

Actually thats a major problem I have with the news and shows like Criminal Minds. Every time there's a mass shooting the reporters always blame it on mental illness. A lot of the serial killers on Criminal Minds, the psychoanalyst often includes possible PTSD as part of the unsub's profile. It makes me wanna barf!

Not everyone with PTSD is going to go nuts and commit violent crimes. Anyone can experience trauma. That doesn't always make us dangerous. People with PTSD deserve empathy and compassion we just want to be accepted, like everybody else.