Last week I heard a story on NPR and could totally relate it with my personal experience. The story was about how nightmares caused by post-traumatic-stress disorder (PTSD) are different from those had by others.
While the interview was with a soldier who was in Iraq, I felt connected to this story because it doesn't matter what the cause of PTSD is, but rather the symptoms are the the same - a recorded film of events play over and over in such a real fashion that you can hardly distinguish them from reality.
As Eliza's second birthday approaches my body is recalling the events that followed her failed exchange transfusion. This memory of mind, body and heart have caught me by surprise.
I've done a lot of work personally to help me think that I had moved beyond seeing that cycle of events, but they have arrived in the format of vivid dreams while I'm sleeping and flashbacks while I'm awake.
Playing through the entire five weeks she was in the neonatal unit, I see the short version: a 30-second movie clip again and again.
I see images of her black-and-blue hands and feet because of the oxygen deprivation, the stacks of medicine pumps connected to her tiny body and the EEG equipment monitoring her for brain-swelled-induced seizures.
I see the faces of every single person we interacted with during that time, and then stop to wonder how we managed ourselves through that time without expressing our hurt, anger and emotions.
So, as I drove in my car listening to this courageous story on NPR many of the PTSD explanations rang true to my own personal experiences.
I also recalled a conversation I had with my father about when he was fighting in Vietnam. We connected like we had never done before when I was younger.
"PTSD never really goes away, you just learn to live with it," he said
"I can still hear a song and I instantly go back to those fields, my friends and the sounds of gunfire."
He was right. I can't forget it. Just when I think I can, my body abruptly reminds me that those events (via powerful images) are now a part of me. They are certainly not the kind of roommates I wish to see everyday, especially when they sneak upon me.
While it's true that the body does hold trauma, I am proof that you can work through it, beyond it and prepare for it, even when you don't see it coming.
While the interview was with a soldier who was in Iraq, I felt connected to this story because it doesn't matter what the cause of PTSD is, but rather the symptoms are the the same - a recorded film of events play over and over in such a real fashion that you can hardly distinguish them from reality.
As Eliza's second birthday approaches my body is recalling the events that followed her failed exchange transfusion. This memory of mind, body and heart have caught me by surprise.
I've done a lot of work personally to help me think that I had moved beyond seeing that cycle of events, but they have arrived in the format of vivid dreams while I'm sleeping and flashbacks while I'm awake.
Playing through the entire five weeks she was in the neonatal unit, I see the short version: a 30-second movie clip again and again.
I see images of her black-and-blue hands and feet because of the oxygen deprivation, the stacks of medicine pumps connected to her tiny body and the EEG equipment monitoring her for brain-swelled-induced seizures.
I see the faces of every single person we interacted with during that time, and then stop to wonder how we managed ourselves through that time without expressing our hurt, anger and emotions.
So, as I drove in my car listening to this courageous story on NPR many of the PTSD explanations rang true to my own personal experiences.
I also recalled a conversation I had with my father about when he was fighting in Vietnam. We connected like we had never done before when I was younger.
"PTSD never really goes away, you just learn to live with it," he said
"I can still hear a song and I instantly go back to those fields, my friends and the sounds of gunfire."
He was right. I can't forget it. Just when I think I can, my body abruptly reminds me that those events (via powerful images) are now a part of me. They are certainly not the kind of roommates I wish to see everyday, especially when they sneak upon me.
While it's true that the body does hold trauma, I am proof that you can work through it, beyond it and prepare for it, even when you don't see it coming.
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