The gift that keeps on giving

"You have Complex PTSD."

That's what the lady said. Well my therapist to be more precise. 

Let me back up a little.

For years I have had this feeling like I wasn't like other people. That I didn't think like others, operate on a day to day basis like others or even always react like others to even moments of crisis. And not in the way you think. More often than not I seem to everyone else operate astonishingly well during a crisis, almost to well. I always thought this was due to the fact that I just had so much practice at it, so many experiences to draw from...so many horrid things that has happened over the course of my 46 years of life that I just functioned well under such pressures.

But in the past year and even more so in the past six months I found myself struggling in ways I didn't understand. I was getting more jumpy, especially with sudden and unexpected loud noises. Even someone sneezing could send me flying up out of my seat.

I was also having more and more nightmares where I was waking up screaming, gasping for air because I felt as if I couldn't breathe and soaked with sweat and I am told my arms flying around in the air.

One terrifying night I woke up at 4am to find myself standing at my bathroom sink and I was in the midst of brushing my teeth. I started to recall what I thought was a dream but to my horror was me actually having spent the last few hours walking around in my sleep doing bizarre house chores and I was able to see the evidence of my activities laying about.

I was finding myself with less and less energy and wanting to spend more and more time alone in my room watching tv, a preferable activity to going out and seeking the company of others in any social capacity and very content to do so. That's not me.

I didn't like how I was feeling or the things I was thinking about.

So I did what any reasonable person would do and I started to see a therapist because I definitely felt lost in all of this mess and figured maybe someone else could put some light on the situation. I was to tired to think about it anymore and just wanted answers.

After about a month after I started seeing her I got just that, an answer.

"You have Complex PTSD." 

...?

......??

........??!

.....SHIT! Really?!? 

I went home and read up on this and what the " complex " part meant.

I cried. I cried all damn night. I was over whelmed, angry, terrified and not sure if I was happy that I got an answer but the cat was out of the bag. I was also none to thrilled to discover the down right almost criminal lack of resources for any kind of PTSD therapy not only for a career survivor such as myself but for even folks like our vets. 

"Well this just sucks... Now what do I do?"

I desperately wanted to understand what this was, what this meant for me, how did I get it and can it be fixed.

I learned that I likely first got PTSD when I was rather young, about 14 or 15 and with one thing after another thing happening and never having a chance to heal and recover before the next wave of hell came my way it has literally changed the way my brain works. It has also had a huge impact on my health and chronic pain issues making already difficult health issues more, well more "complex." So that feeling I had that I was not like others to a certain extent was true, but not in a good way. I some how found ways to cope though.

How I did I am not sure I will ever truly understand. Right now I am trying to learn to stop asking " why" as it's obviously an act of futility and need to just ask "how?"   How do I fix this?  How do I move forward? 

The part I cannot shake, or ironically that makes me and my hands shake since I was 15 is that this gift, the gift that keeps on giving was given to me by the very people in my life that were to love and cherish me, be it by Gods hand or by vows and promises. They gave this to me and from the sounds of it, it may be here to stay as it's been a part of me and so much so removing it could possibly do more harm than good. I don't know, I don't have all the answers right now. 

I suppose that is where the title of this blog comes into play. " The Art of Surviving." Truly this will be an art or it will get really ugly really fast. 

Needless to say there is a lot of soul searching that has been going on recently and I imagine even more will down the road. This didn't get broken over night and so there is no quick fix.

There are no support groups anywhere in the 50 mile radius that I can find so perhaps one needs to be created. I know I hurt for others who are suffering alone in silence. If others who carry this invisible injury read this, know as I am sure you do, but it never hurts to be reminded, you are not alone.

Namaste,

Raven Muse