Living with PTSD

It’s a choice. No, not having PTSD. There’s no choice in that. However, how I choose to manage it is a completely different story.

Trauma is an insidious and mysterious thing. You never know when it might get triggered and how long the PTSD will last. For me, I can’t even pinpoint a month in the past few years when I didn’t have an overarching feeling of anxiety and being on edge.

There are definitely moments when I realize that I’m safe. And that’s usually when I feel physically and emotionally safe. But lately, I haven’t been feeling either. (Here’s an interesting article of how the body doesn’t realize the difference between physical and emotional danger.)

Last night though, I realized something: it’s all in my head. While the energy of trauma may live in my body, the idea of being in danger rests in my head.

There is no threat. I’m not in physical danger; I just think I am. And that’s where it gets tricky. Wanting to be vigilant and aware of my surroundings in order to protect myself has led me to be paranoid.

So what do I do to manage my PTSD and anxiety?

Journaling

The American Psychological Association says that “Writing about difficult, even traumatic, experiences appears to be good for health on several levels — raising immunity and other health measures and improving life functioning.”

So I’ve been writing every night before bed. And let me tell you, my nights are much more restful with less nightmares when I do this. I wake up less often in the middle of the night and I feel more relaxed in the morning.

I allow all my fear to spill out onto the page. Every thought that would normally keep me up at night, ruminating through my brain, goes down on paper. I let myself get raw and sometimes I’ll cry. Any angry thought about my day, I’ll write it down. If something happening that annoyed me, it goes down on paper. If I’m worried about an upcoming event, yup, that gets written out as well. Because it all exists in my head. I need to “voice” it to free it from staying stuck in my thoughts.

Since I don’t live in a war zone, I am free of the worries that ensue from constant fear of a physical attack. True physical danger is not imminent in my daily life. However, not feeling safe is still very much present. So I use another tool to help me cope. I’ve decided to use a mantra.

Mantra-ing?

Mantraing, while not yet a word, should be. Although, it is brutally unattractive as a written word, so maybe we’ll leave it to stay in the “not a real word” pile. However, this [fake] verb helps calm me down when my nervous system and adrenaline decide to spike.

A soothing mantra that assures me I’m safe has helped me lately to get out of my head and the flurry of worry, and into the moment and my body. It’s something quick that reminds me that I’m okay:

I am safe. In this moment, I am safe and I’m okay.

While most mantras are used to transcend the body, such as in mantra meditation, I’m using mine to come back into my body. Using this mantra has given me the choice to believe in, and declare, my safety. I can attest to the fact that, in this very moment, I am indeed safe.

And lastly, my last “tool” lies in my decision to feel safe.

My Choice

I’ve been living in hell the past few months. Truly. Afraid to go out in public and afraid in my own home. Nowhere has felt safe to me. I’ve thought about escaping, either through suicide or drugs and alcohol, more than once. The pain of living inside of PTSD, where the walls are painted in PTSD and the floors are sticky with it, is a miserable existence.

However, it’s scary to admit that I have no control. That at any moment, anything can happen. The ability to let go and acknowledge my helplessness of other people and things is hard. Yet, it’s the only choice I have that won’t drive me crazy.

When I finally can embody this, it’s actually freeing. That is, as long as I keep my mantra. Relinquishing control has always been challenging and destabilizing for me, however, I have other tools to help me feel a little more steady. And that’s my journaling and my mantra. These two guide me as I slowly remove my claws from every situation in my life.

I also talk to my friends who have dealt with and overcome a lot of trauma. Something I continue to hear is that the trauma never fully goes away. However, with these three coping mechanisms (journaling, the mantra, and choosing to accept the unknown), the trauma lessens and becomes more of a whisper than a shout. Lately, my trauma has been defining me and dictating my life, but I’m slowly turning down the volume so it only plays in the background.

I’m not sure if this is the best way to deal with PTSD. I’m not a doctor. I’m just someone who is learning to navigate life while living with trauma. I can tell you that I’m slowly starting to breathe and relax. The feeling of safety is on the horizon.