PTSD and Me
Learning to Live with My Invisible Illness
There are days when I wake up, and my mind feels like a prison cell designed specifically for me. Those are the days when I can feel the rawness of my nervous system. It’s like an invisible pulsing under my skin. I can feel my nerves inside of me pacing, like a tiger at the zoo, fueled by a never-ceasing need to escape, but the thing I’m trying to escape is my memories.
I often find myself waking up gasping from nightmares that force me to relive my trauma and feel so real that my body can’t differentiate the past from the present. They leave me trapped in the nowhere space between past and present, like being in the upside down while living in the normal world.
During those long PTSD days and nights, my mind replays my fears again and again and again. A constant vigil for the pain and fear I experienced in my past, determined to never let me forget because forgetting means it could happen again.
I am no longer the girl I was when I was being traumatized, but my nervous system doesn’t understand that. I’ve healed and grown so much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have days when my demons come calling. I want to be a voice for those who have been abused, but I never want to pretend like I have it all together.
Recovering from trauma is a long and often grueling journey. I’ve fought for every step in my recovery, even on my best days, because my invisible illness still exists on days when I appear happy and confident. Hidden behind my smile is an endless list of triggers to be aware of and warning signs that my PTSD is getting bad again to pay attention to.
We don’t talk enough about how absolutely exhausting it is to stay in the present when your nervous system is stuck in the past. It takes so much energy to track and maintain my every trigger. Each of them has a different need, a different way to soothe, while simultaneously the urge to give into the fear tearing its way through my mind. It’s like an addiction that I know will hurt me, but sometimes, there are days when letting the fear take over feels like a relief because I know what to expect.
Those of us who suffer from PTSD fight against the horrors of our memories daily. Adding to that, in the wake of my PTSD episode, I know I can expect physical pain. The muscles across my entire body tense up, almost like I’m preparing for a crash. The tension doesn’t ease until my nervous system decides I’m safe again, and nothing I can do speeds up that process.
Debilitating joint pain joins forces with muscle tension, making every movement agonizing. In addition, stomach cramps and inflammation spread across my body. I have been on a long journey of checking into my physical symptoms. I still don’t know if I have a chronic illness or if it’s the physical manifestations of my PTSD that make me so sick.
PTSD may be a psychological wound, but it has real physical impacts. The physical pain days are almost worse than the PTSD days because as my mind is returning to me, I am hyper-aware of how incapacitated I feel in the wake of my PTSD.
The physical pain I and other survivors experience is very real, even if the source is unknown. I miss the person I was when I was healthy and the ease of daily life, but I have managed to make myself a unique little toolkit specifically for my PTSD.
- My weighted blanket. It’s a literal godsend when I feel like my skeleton wants to free itself from my skin.
- Horror movies. There are days when I wake up with the desperate need to be scared to my wits by the bathtub lady in the 1997 miniseries The Shining. She is terrifying, but horror movies give my nervous system something to do with the insane buildup of fear trapped inside of me.
- The Queen of the Damned Soundtrack. This one is a new one. On bad days I listen to it on repeat. I don’t know where this one came from, but I like to think Lestat would understand my inner turmoil.
- Pickles, and lots of them. I developed a specialized technique called “floor pickles” and it involves laying on the floor to process one’s feelings.
- Talking it out. I experienced hefty amounts of gaslighting and manipulation. I often don’t trust myself or my memories and need to talk them through with a safe person.
- Active meditation. Meditating typically involves sitting very still. I cannot be left perfectly still with my thoughts and memories, but I can and do achieve a similar effect through walking and processing my thoughts, or by painting them. Using art to turn my nightmares into something beautiful.
- Tracking the trigger. Going back to the exact moment I felt the PTSD kick in, so that next time it happens, I’ll be ready for it.
Not every day with PTSD is bad. In fact, in general, I am a very happy person, but it doesn’t make the bad days hurt any less. If you’re struggling with PTSD, I see you. You are not invisible to me, and we can fight our brain demons together.
**Please note: I am not a mental health professional. I am writing based on my own experiences with emotional abuse. If you are experiencing abuse and need professional help, please seek out a trauma-informed therapist**
