post-traumatic stress syndrome
I sit outside at the cafe below my apartment. I can only afford to goo during the 8-9am happy hour, where everything is half price. I think about how, recently, I was asked whether I ever feel anything. I avoid eye contact with the man carrying the 6,000 year old piece of wood in a baby blanket because I don't yet have the energy to be nice. And I don't give money to the man asking for two dollars for some weed-fried eggs because the cafe doesn't make them. I hide behind a headline story about border-jumping in a small spanish enclave in Morocco.
While reading about a 19 year old who just spent the last two years in the Sahara, and gave birth to her baby in the bush, I consider the fact that I have now been back for a month. A feeling of disgust swims upstream through my intestinal tract and lodges itself just beneath my zyphoid process, and tugs on it like it's a stuck zipper. There's a struggle, and a give. My points of contention from being "on the road": the consideration for time, mine and others'; the promises to myself of productivity and depth when in one place; the indignation at selfishness; they are unzipped and let into the spaces between my kidneys and my liver, my spleen and my ovaries. They swirl and infect me with their airy righteousness, and I start to feel again. I feel a panic that I can't live upto to my ideal. That i have stunted my growth with a manic need for action and satisfaction that only exists on the tail-end of a life of extremity.
I take another sip of my $4 mocha, and the panic is overtaken by survival; or rather the need to feel better, in order to survive. I go back to reading the paper. And I cry when I come to the part about the bear hunt in New Jersey.
I buy a couch and some shoes, and install a new dimmer for my japanese lampshade.
I make plans to learn how to tango by February. I make appointments with the chiropractor to align me.
I find childish victory in the debate of whether or not i have stopped feeling, because I feel awful again.
The man with the wood rides by later on a bicycle someone just gave to him, and asks if I'd take a ride with him, on my own bike of course. And then he says, 'even if you don't come with me, stop reading the paper. I'll tell you stories. You tell me stories. We'll tell stories, and you'll have a good day.'
I say no. I'd rather have a bad one.
I start to consider how my mood is much like one of someone recovering from a traumatic experience. Mine being what? Travelling internationally? :) What a shame.
Online, I find a description of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome:
"PTSD sufferers find themselves playing a game of emotional snakes and ladders. The game board represents the road to
recovery, divided into one hundred squares. A series of ladders helps the person on the way towards recovery but
between these ladders are the snakes, which may take the victim backwards towards the start of the game, experiencing
previous anguish and turmoil.
A person can finish the game in four moves, or can be taken back 94 squares in just six moves. Describing PTSD in such
a way may aid a greater insight into the complicated road to recovery from PTSD. This analogy is probably more realistic
than the very simple idea that recovery is a case of two steps forward and then one step back. Recovery is not smooth.
Naturally, I skip the ladder part, and go straight to the snakes.
1. Panic attacks can become a major 'snake' in the path of recovery. Because the fear of panic is so great many survivors
develop avoidance strategies in an attempt to stay away from anything, which might cause a panic attack.
2. Depression can manifest itself any time. A deep trough of depression can cause a survivor to walk away from the game
board altogether. Consequently, this is the most dangerous 'snake' of all.
3. Alcohol & non-prescribed drugs can act as an initial 'crutch', but dependency on these products can seriously hinder
any real progress towards recovery. This is particularly true of adolescent survivors.
4. Adverse publicity can heighten the state of a survivor's feelings of guilt.
5. Anniversaries are often obstacles, but a successfully handled anniversary can also be turned into a very positive
milestone towards recovery.
6. Non-acceptance of PTSD by professionals and laypersons can be a serious problem for survivors who feel the severity
of the traumatic response is being disregarded or belittled.
Am I over-dramatizing? Certainly. But. Save the "anniversary" part, thus far, I can claim aquaintance with all, and intimacy with some, of the symptoms. You wonder where the adverse publicity comes in--you'll just have to trust me on that one, and refrain from commenting on this blog. For those of you doubing number 6, I rest my case.
I move on with sheepish hope to the "recovery" part--to see what is suggested, and whether or not I am already there.
Formulating goals and targets is a very good strategy provided the targets are within reach. If the target is too difficult,
then the sufferer is in danger of setting unrealistic goals, which serve no useful purpose. Rather, sufferers should be
encouraged to set themselves sensible, attainable, targets. Dates for accomplishing tasks should be within a reasonable
time scale. If the target is reached before the date, a treat may act as a positive reward.
I think fluency in Spanish and tango by February is reasonable.
I must go now, I'm off to yoga. And then to the office, to sign up for another year.