Psyche logo

My Story of PTSD

The start of a series as I navigate PTSD.

By R CPublished 4 years ago 6 min read
Like

A little over a month ago I lost someone very close to me. He had his own demons, and leading up to what would be a difficult day for myself and him, I received a couple of messages on different days asking for help. I went, without question, in the middle of the night to see him; we talked and reminisced and he seemed fine after I left. Then I got a call one day at work to say I needed to get to the hospital, my friend was in there and had tried to kill himself. I was listed as his next of kin and I didn't know. Unfortunately, he didn't make it; his wounds, both mental and physical, were too much, and he didn't want to fight anymore.

Fast forward to two weeks ago and I come back from the gym in the morning and I have feel this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, my heart rate is through the roof and my chest is tightening. I'm sat on the edge of the bed, my fiancée, just waking, leaves the room to get breakfast and snap. When I'm pulled out of whatever the fuck just happened, I'm sat on the floor sweating, breathing heavy, my chest feeling like it's on fire, and then I broke down sobbing uncontrollably. Comforted by my fiancée, I shrug it off, but this was just the first of around seven panic attacks that morning. By 1300 I'm back in bed with my fiancée, waiting for a doctor to phone me and find out what my issue is. Multiple doctor's appointments and low intensity therapy assessments later and what I thought was a 'wobbly' moment has turned into PTSD from bereavement by suicide. I'm given anxiety medication and told I need to see a "high intensity therapy practitioner" for another assessment to start treatment, including counselling and 'trauma based CBT' or EMDR (Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but after the panic attacks, I've had nightmares every single night of the same thing; my friend laid there in the hospital bed wires, tubes and god knows what else attached ,there’s people there talking at me but I can’t hear it because it’s muffled noise, they look angry almost, but yet somehow faceless, then bang, a flash of light and it’s over. It loops over and over again until I wake, and once I do, I don't want to sleep again. I'm easily irritable, and I have noise sensitivity with quick and loud noises which I've never experienced before. When the noises happen, I’ll jump a little, my heart rate skyrockets and I become hyper-vigilant to everything for a little while, then it subsides.

When you hear of PTSD, you probably immediately think of veterans and those who have served in wars, the ones who have been through something hugely traumatic, and that's exactly what I said to the doctors; "It can't be PTSD, I'm not in the military." But what you may not know is that there are others out there, civvies who have been through stuff their brain cannot deal with, and it's isolating when you're embarrassed to say what you're suffering with because "it's only in the military," so you feel guilty and fake, almost like a fraud because it's not something you should have.

There is a small amount of people who know this about me, and to everyone else, I'm just a little quiet sometimes, but inside I'm scratching at the walls of my head trying to get out and scream that I'm not okay. I put on a front at work that I'm happy and nothing's wrong, but again, inside I'm sobbing like a child who's had their toys taken away, that pure pain and anguish that kids seem to feel over inanimate things.

This is my story of something that I’m not sure what will happen with or why it’s happening. I have so many questions that might go unanswered, like why do I feel guilty for having PTSD? Why do I feel like I can’t talk about it? Why couldn’t I help my friend? What made him do it? There are a lot of ‘why’ questions. I have a lot of people that I follow that inspire me to do better some of them could possibly help me understand this problem, but I can’t talk to them because I’m scared of what they will say. Will they turn round and say “fuck off, you haven’t got PTSD, don’t be such a dick,” or will they ignore it? Would I just get a generic “you’ll be fine mate" type of response? I feel the actual response would be worlds apart from these ideas, but that's what stops me reaching out to these people, the ones who are suffering with their own version of the illness and beating it to the ones that have helped people suffering and just those that I look up to.

There are times when I’ve wanted to cry, scream or lash out, and I know I can’t because it’s not going to help things. I also know that all of this affects my fiancée. She’s an absolute rock, but I’m sure deep down it hurts her to see me like this. What’s worse is I want to talk to her about it all, but I just can’t because I can’t explain it most of the time and that breaks me.

Sometimes I just want to wrap and say enough is enough, then I’ll feel guilty because he wouldn’t want me to do this or feel this way. But should I feel guilty for thinking "Why did you do this and make me go through this shit?" I’m torn between so many emotions and a lot of the time I can’t express them unless it’s in a sobbing mess on the floor.

I just want to get help! I want someone to listen and say “Right don’t wrap, everything will be fine and we'll get through it together." I may not have been in the military, but why should that stop me from getting the help I need? Is that selfish of me? I don’t fucking know, I just feel isolated in this little bubble of dealing with it and trying to be strong for my family and my fiancée.

Life sometimes deals people a shitty hand and they get on with it and thrive, but for some reason, every time I pick myself back up and try to move forward while staying positive, it’s like the world turns around, slaps me in the face and decides I can’t be happy, I can’t be successful and I sure as fuck can’t be mentally balanced. Anyway I'm fucking rambling on, so I guess that’s it for now.

That’s the end of this part of the story for now, the future is yet to be seen and what it may hold is something I hope to one day see...

ptsd
Like

About the Creator

R C

A typical British bloke with a few stories of life, love, loss and mental health.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.