The past few days I've beginning to take mental notes about the differences from the PTSD mind in comparison to the normal mind. I've only come up with one burning question: What would it be like to not have to have a daily battle with your own mind? Don't get me wrong, not every day is filled with gruesome horror, but there are still things in the day that can play the "Remember when..." and sometimes those slight twists of mind can open the wrong door and let chaos flood in.
And yes, like I said, every day is not filled with gruesome horror, but every single day is a challenge. I've found very rare few days in which I didn't have to battle my own mind. Every single morning (unless someone is there to immediately distract me) is a battle from the moment I open my eyes. I immediately grab for my phone to check up on Twitter and Facebook, play a game or two, read a blog. I need that immediate distraction or else my mind will start taking pieces of my dreams and finding ways to use them to open doors that I try my very hardest to keep closed.
After about 15 minutes of distraction, I decide I'm well enough (or have run out of time) to move on to start my day. In the bathroom while I shower, I have the radio on. Morning talk shows are brilliant distraction (as long as I concentrate on what they're saying and don't tune them out to listen to my own mind).
I'm usually fine by the time I leave for work, but still - the radio talk or an audio book on the car ride to work is crucial because all it takes is one trigger to slip through and I'm at risk for mush brain. One word spoken in the right context, a smell, a sound, a feeling, a song on the radio.... any one of those things can act as the key to unlock a door that lets out a flood of memory. And once that one memory gets through, it threatens that it has the master key to unlock every other door that I try to keep closed in my brain.
I always have to be ready for the battle. Every minute of every day. If I'm not paying attention when something slips through, it can be hours before I realize that I've mentally checked out. And even then, I only notice because I suddenly can't speak properly, or comprehend something simple, or the world grows increasingly louder to the point that I can hear every conversation going on around me within earshot.
"Get over it" right? All those who think that PTSD is just "in someone's head" and they're "choosing to relive bad memories" is dead wrong. Studies have shown that the PTSD brain PHYSICALLY looks different than the non-PTSD brain. Different areas are bigger than they're supposed to be. The logic "I'm safe" brain area is broken in a PTSD brain. You can check out this article for more information (aka proof that I'm not just blowing smoke about it).
It's things like these that make PTSD a disability. I shouldn't be able to function enough to get out of bed in the morning much less go to work, but I have three jobs and go to school part time. I've found that I can make it through my days if my days are filled with things that busy my brain.
My old boss at my current job once said to me (after we had an argument as to why I had my iPod on while I was working on computers - and the fact was that the song that my coworkers were playing had triggered me and I needed a different song to focus on to redirect my brain) "if you're disabled, you shouldn't even be allowed to work here".
It must be nice to be so ignorant to the world, right?
I immediately contacted HR and have them send over a massive amount of paperwork talking about PTSD in the workplace and how to accommodate an employee with PTSD. Turns out, the small things I was asking for to be accommodated in the first place were only a few of dozens of things that they were to offer me.
Yesterday I spent my hour after waking up mentally prepping myself back into reality but the moment I stepped out the door, all was lost. My skin grabbed at the air and my lungs took deep, unnecessary breaths. My brain held guard as best as it could, but I knew it'd be too late.
I needed to adjust to the weather and try to quickly make as many good positive memories as I could in order to overcome the bad one.
But good memories? They're hard to make in my world, the one in which I live inside my own head. I might smile at you or throw out a bit of wit and sarcasm, but they're just shields. They keep you from staring too long, from seeing deeper into the twisted horror that is the inside of me. I smile, I focus on you, I change the subject if anything gets too intense.
It's alright though, because you don't notice, and that's probably for the best.
And yes, like I said, every day is not filled with gruesome horror, but every single day is a challenge. I've found very rare few days in which I didn't have to battle my own mind. Every single morning (unless someone is there to immediately distract me) is a battle from the moment I open my eyes. I immediately grab for my phone to check up on Twitter and Facebook, play a game or two, read a blog. I need that immediate distraction or else my mind will start taking pieces of my dreams and finding ways to use them to open doors that I try my very hardest to keep closed.
After about 15 minutes of distraction, I decide I'm well enough (or have run out of time) to move on to start my day. In the bathroom while I shower, I have the radio on. Morning talk shows are brilliant distraction (as long as I concentrate on what they're saying and don't tune them out to listen to my own mind).
I'm usually fine by the time I leave for work, but still - the radio talk or an audio book on the car ride to work is crucial because all it takes is one trigger to slip through and I'm at risk for mush brain. One word spoken in the right context, a smell, a sound, a feeling, a song on the radio.... any one of those things can act as the key to unlock a door that lets out a flood of memory. And once that one memory gets through, it threatens that it has the master key to unlock every other door that I try to keep closed in my brain.
I always have to be ready for the battle. Every minute of every day. If I'm not paying attention when something slips through, it can be hours before I realize that I've mentally checked out. And even then, I only notice because I suddenly can't speak properly, or comprehend something simple, or the world grows increasingly louder to the point that I can hear every conversation going on around me within earshot.
"Get over it" right? All those who think that PTSD is just "in someone's head" and they're "choosing to relive bad memories" is dead wrong. Studies have shown that the PTSD brain PHYSICALLY looks different than the non-PTSD brain. Different areas are bigger than they're supposed to be. The logic "I'm safe" brain area is broken in a PTSD brain. You can check out this article for more information (aka proof that I'm not just blowing smoke about it).
It's things like these that make PTSD a disability. I shouldn't be able to function enough to get out of bed in the morning much less go to work, but I have three jobs and go to school part time. I've found that I can make it through my days if my days are filled with things that busy my brain.
My old boss at my current job once said to me (after we had an argument as to why I had my iPod on while I was working on computers - and the fact was that the song that my coworkers were playing had triggered me and I needed a different song to focus on to redirect my brain) "if you're disabled, you shouldn't even be allowed to work here".
It must be nice to be so ignorant to the world, right?
I immediately contacted HR and have them send over a massive amount of paperwork talking about PTSD in the workplace and how to accommodate an employee with PTSD. Turns out, the small things I was asking for to be accommodated in the first place were only a few of dozens of things that they were to offer me.
Yesterday I spent my hour after waking up mentally prepping myself back into reality but the moment I stepped out the door, all was lost. My skin grabbed at the air and my lungs took deep, unnecessary breaths. My brain held guard as best as it could, but I knew it'd be too late.
I needed to adjust to the weather and try to quickly make as many good positive memories as I could in order to overcome the bad one.
But good memories? They're hard to make in my world, the one in which I live inside my own head. I might smile at you or throw out a bit of wit and sarcasm, but they're just shields. They keep you from staring too long, from seeing deeper into the twisted horror that is the inside of me. I smile, I focus on you, I change the subject if anything gets too intense.
It's alright though, because you don't notice, and that's probably for the best.
Erica,
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your life. I am glad to see that there are some resources to help in the work place. I had to quite a couple of jobs because no one cared enough to learn and help each other out. It got to be more than I could bear. Sadly the woman at the top was fired, she refused to change.
Bless you Erica.