A pickup truck stopped in the exit thwarted my parking lot departure. A man sat in the driver’s seat while a woman anxiously checked rear brake lights and turn signals. My first thought was, “Geez, do you have to block the exit?” My next thought was, “Yeah, I’ve been there.”
The clinical definition of PTSD does not adequately portray the realities of life with PTSD.
Agitation, irritability, hostility, hyper vigilance, self-destructive behavior, social isolation, flashbacks, fear, severe anxiety, mistrust, loss of interest in activities, guilt, loneliness, insomnia, nightmares, emotional detachment, unwanted thoughts.
Sounds bad. Maybe it sounds like someone you know. But what does it look like in real life?
It looks like a guy insisting that immediately checking brake lights is a matter of life and death and it must be done before moving the vehicle another INCH!! I don’t know if that truly was the situation, but given my own experiences, it seems more likely than having encountered a couple so self-absorbed that pulling into a parking space to check their vehicle was too much trouble for them.
And it got me thinking about common PTSD events families like ours experience.
PTSD looks like a dad mustering every bit of courage within himself to attend his kids’ school functions . . . pacing nervously at the back of the room, scanning the crowd for signs of danger. He’s there out of love for his kids, but he makes people uneasy – or concerned – or disdainful. He should get a medal for his efforts, but is more likely to receive a rebuke from his embarrassed family.
PTSD looks like someone who, one by one, ends relationships because people let him down. No one is 100% worthy of trust. He may allow a few close family members some flaws, but holds them at an emotional arm’s length – for their own good as well as self-protection.
PTSD looks like suddenly fleeing a public place because some sound or smell or feeling causes alarm. . . kids yanked off playground equipment, or pulled from a birthday party, or hustled out of a grocery store.
And even though these behaviors embarrass and upset the children, they are also absorbing all the lessons; that life is dangerous, people are hostile, and nothing is stable.
Although I use the pronoun “he” – because of my husband’s combat-related PTSD – anyone who has suffered trauma can develop PTSD. In fact, children raised in abusive homes often show symptoms and brain changes nearly identical to combat PTSD.
PTSD often includes alcohol and substance abuse (as with Caleb’s early struggles with PTSD) and other darker evidences of anger and guilt. Unreasonable temper outbursts may punctuate the everyday frustrations of life. Over-reaction is the primary descriptor. Baffling as it may be for those of us on the outside, their “fight or flight” response is triggered much more easily, flooding the system with adrenaline, cortisol, and norepinephrine and causing a minor inconvenience to feel like a major threat.
I love our neighbors who are kind and understanding when my husband is up all-night pacing in the backyard. Previous neighbors called the police and viewed him as a nuisance.
I love church people who think nothing of his back-of-the-church pacing – no strange looks, raised eyebrows, or avoidance . . . or worse yet, the pointed and strained, “can I help you?”
I appreciate the teachers and/or school administrators who have chatted with my husband, thereby deflecting negative attention – rather than asking security to keep an eye on him.
These acts of kindness and understanding go a long way in helping PTSD sufferers and their families through difficult situations . . . And I think it helps the kids see not everyone is so bad.
PTSD treatment has come a long way in the past 30 years. I am so grateful for the research V.A. has done and that Caleb is now receiving help. Though PTSD can’t be reversed, the prognosis for significant improvement is good. Caleb used to believe nothing in the world could compel him to revisit his traumas. He thought he could bury the bad so deep under a pile of good (wife, kids, job, house, church, helping others, etc) that the bad would be drowned out and maybe even die. Now he understands that everything he wants is on the other side of PTSD treatment . . . and we’ve seen evidence that it actually works!
Some have said God can heal PTSD. A real understanding of who God is – and who I am in Him – takes away the fear, guilt, anger, etc. And I would agree! These truths are key to experiencing the love, joy, and peace God offers. However, given the biological and neurological changes in Caleb’s brain, access to that understanding is effectively blocked. He can’t really receive the healing available to him without the help he is receiving to remove the roadblocks – or “brainblocks”. PTSD has a spiritual element, like everything in life, but is not solely a spiritual condition. I think it is similar to my brain event. God demonstrated his power and presence in that time, but he also used a hospital and a surgeon to carry out his work.
For my girls, I wish they could have experienced less stress and more stability during their childhood, but their story is in God’s hands. They now have emotional challenges to overcome, but I don’t think I’ve known three more compassionate souls as my daughters. They accept everyone as-is and I am amazed by their inner strength and beauty.
And for me, I have to remember life is a marathon – not a sprint. I have to stop and take deep breaths. I have to set reasonable boundaries for Caleb’s behavior. (Accommodation has its limits.) I have to keep focused on God’s power, provision, and plan (huh, three P’s . . . cute) so I don’t lose myself in his diagnosis.
And a sense of humor has been a sort-of glue keeping our family somewhat in the neighborhood of sanity over the years – because, as Caleb loves to quote, “There’s no point in being nuts if you can’t have some fun with it.” – John Nash, A Beautiful Mind
