PTSD and Me

The majority of my life has been filled with trauma. I have only been free of it for the last four years. My trauma began when I was just a young girl. My birth mother and father got a divorce and I was left to live with my mother. Being a daddy's girl left with a mother that didn't understand her was hard! My big brother was a mama's boy. He was a straight-A student, always (as far as I can remember) did what she wanted him to do. He was the golden boy with our mother. Because I was rough and tumble and the furthest thing from a girly girl as you could get, she didn't like me. I didn't get straight A's, was lucky, even, to get a B. And I was defiant. These led me to being mentally and emotionally abused. I was often called a little bitch, stupid and told, "why can't you be more like your brother?" Not things a kid needs to hear. I never had any support from her either. And that wasn't the worst of what I dealt with living with my birth mother. When I was around eight years old, she got involved with a truck driver that abused drugs and alcohol. She moved us in with him, and for two years, my brother and I were forced to watch this poor excuse of a human being beat and rape our mother every day. He always accused her of cheating on him, would ask my brother and me for confirmation of her infidelity. Why didn't we leave? Why did my brother and I stay and watch? We were told we would be killed if we moved. We were told if we left him, he would hunt us down and kill us all. The threat of life is an excellent motivator to make you stay in an unsafe situation.

When I was 10, almost 11, my Aunt and Uncle found and rescued us. They brought us back home to Maine and proceeded to begin the process to adopt me and save my life. I wish I could say that my life with my new mom and dad was better. It wasn't as bad, but the mental abuse continued, just not as blatantly. It was small things like being told not to quit my day job when practicing a song for chorus class. Having to take literally everything out of the drawers and cupboards to rewash it all if one single speck of food was left on any of the dishes I had to wash. I wasn't allowed to go to school dances except one. I was only allowed to have a boyfriend if my parents chose him for me. Same with going on dates. In fact, there was one time I was forced to go on a date with someone just because it was his birthday and he asked my parents if he could take me before he asked me.

When I was in 10th grade, the first boy I ever loved was killed by a hit and run drunk driver. When the police caught up to and arrested the man, he claimed he believed he had hit a group of mailboxes, not boys. That was the first death I had suffered. Little over two years later I would lose my first baby. When I was five months pregnant with my first daughter, I found out that she had Trisomy 18 and a diaphragmatic hernia. I was told that if she only had T18, she would have had a life expectancy of six months to a year if she survived past birth. However, with the hernia, she didn't stand a chance. I was advised by the doctors to terminate my pregnancy, but ultimately the choice was mine. I chose to continue with the pregnancy (abortion is not for me) so that I would have the chance to hold her and say goodbye. In November of 1996, I did just that. I held my stillborn daughter and said goodbye. With the help of some friends, I had her cremated that way I never had to leave her behind. I got pregnant again pretty fast after that.

My second daughter was my next experience with trauma. Nine days before her third birthday, she was declared legally brain dead, killed by a man I had been dating and trusted with both of our lives. Not only did he kill my daughter, but he also killed my ability to trust. It was this trauma that triggered my PTSD. After returning to Maine, yet again, and for the final time, I was trying to get on medical insurance and was told I needed to have an evaluation. I got the evaluation and a diagnosis at the same time. The therapist said that I had probably always had PTSD but that the death of my second daughter is what brought it out. I have suffered more trauma besides these but these are what brought about the diagnosis.

Unlike with my depression or anxiety, I have no control over my PTSD. Flashbacks attack when they feel like it. For a long time, I could not see abuse of any kind without having a flashback. I could not see pictures of hospitalized kids, could not watch court tv. I even had a hard time talking to any of my parents. Eventually, I would cut my biological mother completely out of my life. She was just too toxic to be involved with me. I don't talk to my adopted father either. And as for the other two, I am still a daddy's girl, always will be but I don't see or talk to him much. And my adopted mom, I see her maybe once a year and talk to her about as often. I have come to realize that I am happier this way.

Living with post-traumatic stress disorder is not something I would wish upon anyone. It is so very difficult to survive. And that is just what you do, you survive it. When the flashbacks hit, all you can do is ride them out unless you have someone there to pull you out of them. You have no control of your actions when they hit. You don't even know you are having one most of the time. When you are in a flashback, you are either reliving the situation or you are seeing it like a movie. Sometimes both. And it is horrible.

Getting trauma therapy can help reduce the likelihood of having flashbacks. It can reduce the symptoms of PTSD but nothing can ever get rid of it. Most people attribute PTSD with the military because that is what you always hear. Unfortunately, anyone can have PTSD. Don't try to cope alone. Reach out for help healing from this disorder. Don't try to live with it on your own. Peace and blessings to you!