We lost my dad on this day 18 years ago. It's weird to think that I've gone 2/3 of my life without my dad in it. This year is different than it's been in past years because now I know what that day did to me, other than alter the course of my life forever (as it did my sisters and mom).
This day, 18 years ago, is when PTSD started. I always thought of PTSD as something soldiers suffer from, or something people who are truly traumatized go through, never thinking that in my 6 year old brain hearing my father take his last breaths, seeing my mom give him CPR, and saying goodbye to his soulless body was traumatizing.
I had few fears when I was little. I was shy, yes, but my family often tells the story of me running with full speed into a pool with no floaties on-- I knew someone would save me.
I've spent the last 2/3 of my life thinking something was wrong with me. I always thought, "surely, if I can get through this next rough patch, things will be OK." They weren't. I thought knowing Jesus would be enough. It's helped, certainly, but it hasn't made my anxieties go away. My list of irrational fears grew exponentially. From fearing fish would eat my toes in the water, to thinking that if my mom didn't answer her phone it meant she was dead. If a normal person's anxiety level was a 2 on a 10 point scale, mine was a 15.
I didn't know the memories I had of the day I lost my dad and significant memories following were flashbacks; I thought everyone had memories that way. I didn't know it wasn't "normal" to not only remember those things, but to relive them. If I think about the day my dad died, I am 6 again, sitting at the top of the stairs, taking in the chaos around me. I am living through that day again.
Fear and anxiety controlled my life- from new social and life experiences to everything in between.
I've told my mom countless times while having a meltdown that I was crazy. I would regress to acting like a very young adult during times of change, as if I didn't know how to express how I was feeling or what I was thinking.
When change happens I go into meltdown mode. When I feel I'm losing control I go into meltdown mode. Meltdown mode is not healthy; it's like a 6 year old throwing a tempter tantrum. I've had countless meltdowns in my life that go beyond the ugly crying stage. I never knew that change was a "trigger," I always just thought I "didn't handle change well."
I was given ways to cope with worry and anxiety. They'd help for a few months, and then the downward spiral would begin again, and the whole process would start all over.
Until February of this year.
I decided to go back to therapy *again* because I felt insane and I knew something wasn't right. Finally someone listened to me. This new therapist heard me recount my past and asked if anyone had mentioned PTSD. After talking through the diagnosis and how my symptoms lined up, I felt freedom.
These 7 months have been an extremely difficult road to walk down, but I know I'm on the healthy path. The most difficult day was reliving the day my dad died-- the day it all started. When I often think of this day I go into "preservation" mode. I don't let myself flash back. I go numb so I don't have to feel. Well, she wouldn't let me do that. She made me feel. It was like ripping off the world's strongest, toughest band aid. It hurt. The days following hurt. It stirred up so much in my mind that the dreams of my dad were so vivid that I couldn't sleep. It brought out pain, anger, frustration, and all of these emotions that I wouldn't let myself truly feel for 17+ years.
I notice the difference in myself. My friends and family have said they notice the difference, too. It's weird to have people say they're proud of you for doing work on yourself mentally. It's even more weird to feel proud of yourself.
In past years as I'd prepare for this day I'd feel like a Floridian preparing their house for a hurricane. Board up the windows, secure the surroundings. That way I wouldn't have to let myself feel whatever it was my brain was stirring up. And a hurricane wouldn't just come- it would be a hurricane and tsunami mixed together.
This year is different, though. This year it's more I'm laying at the water's edge letting the waves come occasionally. I'm letting myself ride the waves of emotion. If I have a flashback (as I've had all day), I let myself be sad for a moment, I feel what I'm feeling, and I keep going.
This year, I'm not just going to survive in this life. I want to thrive in this life.
