Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
It's a serious blog type of day...
When H2 and I split a good friend of mine (who just happens to be a therapist) recommended a therapist for me to go see. For awhile I was hesitant because in my own head seeing a therapist meant that something was wrong and something being wrong meant that H2 had gotten to me. In hindsight now I can look back on the years we spent together and honestly say that man mentally and emotionally destroyed me. The damage was done during our relationship, not after and the destruction was deeper then I could have ever imagined.
Within a few sessions my therapist diagnosed me with PTSD. I asked a lot of questions because PTSD was reserved for troops and people who had seen and been through horrible things in their life. PTSD is for people who have served in wars and suffered losses that I could not scratch the surface of being able to relate to. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it was that point where I really began to realize the fragile mental position I was in. As we progressed and more and more spilled out she would occasionally emphasize the words STRESS or TRAUMATIC. It began to sink in, I really needed help. I related it to if your leg is broken, you wouldn't think twice about going to see a doctor. However, when your mental abilities begin to be affected there is a stigma around getting help. Nobody wants to admit that they can't mentally handle something, I certainly didn't. However, I learned that I needed to admit that I couldn't in order to truly get the help that I needed.
After weeks of talking my therapist (who is worth her weight in gold) she suggested we try something she was trained in. EMDR - It's a psychotherapy called Eye Movement Desensitizing and Reprocessing. I went home and scoured the internet for everything to do with EMDR, what it was used for, what the side effects were, how it would effect me. You name it, I studied it. I learned that EMDR is using rapid eye movements to help process traumatic events and move them from the trauma side of your brain to the memory side of your brain. I also learned that when a patient is going through this process the feelings are often present in the patient as very strong, emotionally demanding feelings. After my first couple sessions I was an exhausted emotional train wreck. I came home and I slept, I woke up and I was still exhausted. My body was physically processing the deep emotional destruction that H2 had inflicted. We continued and as the weeks went on I slowly was able to handle the process and managed to be semi-human after. When your in the middle of a process it's hard to know if it's working or not, slowly I began to sleep through the nights. The panic attacks began to lessen and the sound of a diesel truck no longer triggered a survival flight mechanism in me. I slowly began to go out into the community and experience the places that I enjoyed both before H2 and with H2 without having to remind myself to breathe. The most important lesson that I learned (and am still learning) is it's ok. It's ok to talk yourself out of a panic attack or turn around and walk away from a situation that might trigger one. I don't have to be tough and force my way through it, I can turn around and walk away and that is ok.
We all look at the battered women in relationships, with bruises on their faces and broken limbs. We want to reach out and help. We acknowledge that these women need help, we provide shelters and safe houses. As a community we protect them from harm. What do we do for the women (and men!) who are suffering from the mental abuse? We brag about all the support and help we give our troops with PTSD, but we judge those who we haven't heard about their traumatic experiences, the mental pain and struggle that they've been through. It still is hard for me to say that H2 was emotionally abusive, he was a textbook sociopath and narcissist. Now that I have crested that mountain I can look back and realize how mentally unwell I truly was and how good I was at hiding it. I still have moments from time to time where something triggers me, but now I'm able to rationally talk myself down, walk away and it's a nonevent. I'm still working on myself daily. I can even hear about people having cancer without doubting the truth to their story. *For those of you who didn't know, H2 told me he had leukemia which had caused cluster headaches which potentially meant the cancer had moved into his brain. I later found out it was all a lie, like everything else.
Anyway, I digress... PTSD, it's a thing to be aware of. It impacts people of all walks of life and experiences. It doesn't fit into a neat box that lists the issues on the outside, it's messy and hard to deal with. It's the battered woman we all think of when we think of in abusive relationship commercials or news stories, only it's on the inside. It's behind the eyes, lurking and waiting... reminding you of every moment and comment that made you feel like shit. Every time you thought you weren't good enough, every time you were put down or put yourself down. It's the bruises, swelling and scars that the world can't see. It's real and it's out there.
When H2 and I split a good friend of mine (who just happens to be a therapist) recommended a therapist for me to go see. For awhile I was hesitant because in my own head seeing a therapist meant that something was wrong and something being wrong meant that H2 had gotten to me. In hindsight now I can look back on the years we spent together and honestly say that man mentally and emotionally destroyed me. The damage was done during our relationship, not after and the destruction was deeper then I could have ever imagined.
Within a few sessions my therapist diagnosed me with PTSD. I asked a lot of questions because PTSD was reserved for troops and people who had seen and been through horrible things in their life. PTSD is for people who have served in wars and suffered losses that I could not scratch the surface of being able to relate to. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it was that point where I really began to realize the fragile mental position I was in. As we progressed and more and more spilled out she would occasionally emphasize the words STRESS or TRAUMATIC. It began to sink in, I really needed help. I related it to if your leg is broken, you wouldn't think twice about going to see a doctor. However, when your mental abilities begin to be affected there is a stigma around getting help. Nobody wants to admit that they can't mentally handle something, I certainly didn't. However, I learned that I needed to admit that I couldn't in order to truly get the help that I needed.
After weeks of talking my therapist (who is worth her weight in gold) she suggested we try something she was trained in. EMDR - It's a psychotherapy called Eye Movement Desensitizing and Reprocessing. I went home and scoured the internet for everything to do with EMDR, what it was used for, what the side effects were, how it would effect me. You name it, I studied it. I learned that EMDR is using rapid eye movements to help process traumatic events and move them from the trauma side of your brain to the memory side of your brain. I also learned that when a patient is going through this process the feelings are often present in the patient as very strong, emotionally demanding feelings. After my first couple sessions I was an exhausted emotional train wreck. I came home and I slept, I woke up and I was still exhausted. My body was physically processing the deep emotional destruction that H2 had inflicted. We continued and as the weeks went on I slowly was able to handle the process and managed to be semi-human after. When your in the middle of a process it's hard to know if it's working or not, slowly I began to sleep through the nights. The panic attacks began to lessen and the sound of a diesel truck no longer triggered a survival flight mechanism in me. I slowly began to go out into the community and experience the places that I enjoyed both before H2 and with H2 without having to remind myself to breathe. The most important lesson that I learned (and am still learning) is it's ok. It's ok to talk yourself out of a panic attack or turn around and walk away from a situation that might trigger one. I don't have to be tough and force my way through it, I can turn around and walk away and that is ok.
We all look at the battered women in relationships, with bruises on their faces and broken limbs. We want to reach out and help. We acknowledge that these women need help, we provide shelters and safe houses. As a community we protect them from harm. What do we do for the women (and men!) who are suffering from the mental abuse? We brag about all the support and help we give our troops with PTSD, but we judge those who we haven't heard about their traumatic experiences, the mental pain and struggle that they've been through. It still is hard for me to say that H2 was emotionally abusive, he was a textbook sociopath and narcissist. Now that I have crested that mountain I can look back and realize how mentally unwell I truly was and how good I was at hiding it. I still have moments from time to time where something triggers me, but now I'm able to rationally talk myself down, walk away and it's a nonevent. I'm still working on myself daily. I can even hear about people having cancer without doubting the truth to their story. *For those of you who didn't know, H2 told me he had leukemia which had caused cluster headaches which potentially meant the cancer had moved into his brain. I later found out it was all a lie, like everything else.
Anyway, I digress... PTSD, it's a thing to be aware of. It impacts people of all walks of life and experiences. It doesn't fit into a neat box that lists the issues on the outside, it's messy and hard to deal with. It's the battered woman we all think of when we think of in abusive relationship commercials or news stories, only it's on the inside. It's behind the eyes, lurking and waiting... reminding you of every moment and comment that made you feel like shit. Every time you thought you weren't good enough, every time you were put down or put yourself down. It's the bruises, swelling and scars that the world can't see. It's real and it's out there.
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