What even is PTSD? Well, I'll give you the actual definition, and I'll give you my definition. First, the Mayo Clinic definition is "a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event—either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event." In other words, my definition is when you go through something so traumatic that your brain isn't able to process it, which causes your brain to sabotage itself. Now the people who have PTSD know what I mean by sabotage. But who gets PTSD? Everyone! Obviously, people who are involved in scary and possibly traumatizing things get PTSD, like cops, people in the military, abuse victims, and being in an accident or disaster. But one person living with PTSD can have an average, or what people call an everyday life. Meanwhile, another person with PTSD can live a crazy or abnormal life.
All of these feelings started when I was a little girl going through horrible things and feeling they were "normal" or that they "happened to everyone." Well, not until recently did I realize I was wrong. I've been in the Linden Oaks program twice now. The first time was like a whole new world. an unfamiliar place, a daunting place. The floors were cold and gray. The people stared as you walked in the door. The walls are gray, and even the fish they display (to calm you down) look anxious. I just remember thinking I would never be able to sit still. It felt so uncomfortable there. Everyone you meet has a different story and a different personality, but seemingly very different people come together. I walk in every day through the automatic doors, say hello to Officer Jason, put on hand sanitizer, grab a mask, and put it on while I walk to my locker. I go to my room and grab a morning check-in sheet. We all sit in silence (because no phones are allowed in the room) while we wait for our morning check-in person, who is usually Nikki, Asia, Paw, or Zack. I was anxious to talk to someone who might actually help me, but that was the worst part. You have to talk to complete strangers about how you would cry on the floor in the bathroom, wrapping your arms in bandages, why you hate yourself, or all the bad things you have seen. While being in Linden Oaks, they teach you coping mechanisms, ways to deal with thoughts that creep up on you, like darkness in the night, and not why you feel like you are in a dark room although your flashlight is fading.
Not all people needed something more, but here I am a year later, back in Linden Oaks, for a whole new lesson. I didn't realize at first what PTSD was or even that it affected me until Zack introduced me to the separate program. I was resistant to this at first. I didn't want to miss school, be the girl who has PTSD, or be the girl who can't deal with it on her own. I succumbed to a darkness that consumed my mind. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the PTSD program would be the best thing for me, in order to get to the root of all my evil thoughts. That's where I met a man who saved me from myself. Jerome. His goofy personality lit up the room. When he would dab, it would make the whole group cringe but laugh—like the drawing of crabs on his whiteboard when someone would conquer a stuck point. At the time, that was exactly the person I needed to support me through my fears. Our first introduction to the program was to write a paper, but not just any paper. A paper about one of the biggest reasons we struggle with PTSD. Now this is when I get scared. What should I write? How my grandma passed away, moving to a different state, my dad not caring for me, my best friend Daniel passing away, or the "little things' '. Well, I decided I needed to choose what was stuck in my brain the most. Daniel passing away. I sat on the floor, waiting and staring at a blank piece of paper. How do I start? I get frustrated by what happened. I get scared to write about what happened. My eyes start to get teary. I need a break. I'm too stressed out. I walk out of the room and sit alone while I look out the window. I sit and watch the squirrels be as free as I wish I could be. free from worry and free from all the things I have to deal with. After about 10 minutes, I went back inside. I take a deep breath and start to feel a sense of relief as I start to write. relief that someone will know what's going on with me, relief that I'm not alone, and relief that I found the strength to write about Daniel.
*Side note: Before my time in the PTSD program, I couldn't even say Daniel out loud. That can show you how much progress I've made.
I finished writing about everything that happened on October 9th, 2019. The next day, I go back, and Jerome brings me into his office to chat. I get worried that I can't be fixed, and he's telling me that he gives up. I sat down in the chair, and we sat in silence for a minute. Which worried me even more. Finally, he tells me why he needs to talk to me. He wants to go over the letter we wrote yesterday! That scared me even more.
"We have to talk about it with you?" I ask
"We do have to talk about it, but we can stop anytime."
I take a deep breath and say, "Okay, I can do this."
He asked me to read it aloud to him. I started reading. My voice gets shaky as I try not to cry. I finally finished reading. Jerome takes a deep breath and tells me something I need to hear.
"Good job! I know it's hard to talk about. I'm very proud of you, and I'm so sorry that happened."
I start to cry. Then he tells me the hardest thing for me to accept.
"Everyone will always try to tell you that you're a victim, but really you are a survivor."
Even though PTSD lasts forever over time and getting help you can learn to work with it and live without constant fear of the life you live now.