PTSD
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A man knows not where he is. Drifting through a conscious unawareness, confused at why these people are in his house. Calling out to his long dead wife. Do we live too long? Have all our medical advances only prolonged the life of our bodies at the cost of our minds? I don’t know. We
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There is a construction zone around 4th avenue, and I must detour on my way to work. The mental hospital is on my route to work, so now instead of driving by it, I drive with it looming in front of me. I don’t know that I will ever get over it. I have a
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I’ve caught up on my meds. I’m feeling rather turbo charged despite a lack of sleep and living on mostly chocolate the last few days. The PTSD symptoms are still ever present. I saw a rust-colored car and immediately felt short of breath and my heart beat faster. Rust is the color of the elopement
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My heart constricts in my chest, and my breath shortens as I go through triggers in the environment. I perseverate on memories and traumas, and my body goes through it all over again. I’m so frustrated at what feels like a never-ending battle. I’m not supposed to fight it but comfort the painful feelings and
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I’ve been reading a book popular in psychology circles and recommended to me by numerous doctors and therapists. The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel Van Der Kolk. It’s thick and complicated and right up my alley. Triggering, too. He’s talking about the patients in psych wards and hospitals in which he’s worked. Talking about
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So sensitive to noise. Every crash and bang startles me. Reminds me of the mental hospital, all the cacophony and slamming of doors. But I’m getting through it. The meds deaden my response. I’m not cycling so hard. I have short lived mood swings, especially if I miss my meds even one day. That did
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Putting on my watch. The color of rust. New triggers that aren’t new. I have to live with it. My watch always reminds me of the restraints. It’s so dumb. The color of rust is the color of the scrubs for elopement risk patients at work when they’re on med surg. It’s a new thing.
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I have a manic patient. I am simultaneously triggered and yet in my element. I had so much training. Experience. I was able to calm the patient before sedatives. I told Ceila about the flashbacks. They just don’t stop. Told her about the visions of the future I get, but not in great detail. She
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I am absolutely plagued with flashbacks. I pull out everything in my arsenal…distraction, meditation, medication, music, writing, reading…I can’t concentrate on a movie. I tried, but I keep losing focus. It’s driving me crazy. Work is a heavy stressor. There are a lot of politics going on, and bickering among staff, and poor management. Yet
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Every time I drive to work, I have to drive by the mental hospital. In the beginning, this was a major trigger for me and required I sit for a minute and let the panic dissipate before heading in. So many flashbacks and so much anxiety. Now I drive by and try to reframe it
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 