Functioning with Compound PTSD

A week ago today, I was hit with a panic attack so badly it was paralytic in nature. This debilitation did not take place until after midnight, after a day chalk full of trigger after PTSD trigger. It was a terrible day and still a week later, I am struggling to dust myself off, get up and function normally.

Compound PTSD

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) attacks suck. They suck because out of nowhere, you are clicking along, doing your thing and suddenly a crowbar swipe takes you down. Then, one thing after another sets off chain reactions of explosions. An emotional minefield surrounds you and it is just explosion after explosion. These are the effects of compound PTSD.

In this post, I'm not going to go into each and every detail or specifics of my personal minefield of hell. First, my details won't apply to your details. Second it takes up blog real estate space that isn't necessary. For those of you who have gone through these experiences or have been close to a loved one who has, you already understand exactly what I am talking about. For those of you who are researching the internet for clarification on PTSD and panic attacks, this post's purpose is not to define or identify specifics, particularly my specifics.

Compound PTSD occurs when a traumatic event occurs, this event is not fully processed nor therapeutically resolved and additional traumatic events occur during the progression of one's life thus compounding traumatic event after traumatic event.

Backstory

In previous blog posts, I have mentioned my fight with cancer as a child. It was 1992 (just to date myself a bit), I was a young teenager facing loss of all sorts. The loss of hair, the loss of beauty, the loss of social life, the loss of prom, the loss of first kisses and the loss of any sense of normal teenage life. In 1992 the children's hospital had one Nintendo play station cart that could be wheeled into room after room that was shared on the cancer floor. My mother's co-workers all pitched in together to buy me a cutting edge Gameboy and two games.
I became very skilled at Tetris. And each hospital room was equipped with a television set and a VCR. In 1992, I Love Lucy aired daily (there's your trivia for the day). That was the extent of my screen time as I lay in bed hours upon end while bright orange chemotherapy dripped through my veins.

Disney's full length animated feature, Beauty and the Beast had just been released and I was excited to get my very own copy. I had seen the film in the theaters, prior to my cancer diagnosis. When I received the VHS recording, I suddenly related to the characters in an entirely different way. It wasn't Belle whom I suddenly associated with, but rather, the Beast. I watched this film over and over, day in and day out. As my hair fell out in clumps, as my cheeks swelled and puffed due to steroid treatments to counter the chemo effects, as my weight took drastic drops and I became frail and weak, as my fingernails fell off due to the high velocity doses of cancer treatments and a bone marrow transplant, as my eyelashes became non-existent and as I was forced to wear a spore mask for six months after my transplant (envision a painter's mask with filter on a teenage girl each time she left her house), the mantra ran through my head "for who could ever learn to love a Beast?" This was the beginning of my lifelong insecurity issues I still face to this very day. I was the Beast. Most little girls related to Belle; the sweet, kind, accepting, loving town's girl who saved the Beast. But who was going to save me?

The Past and the Present

Over two decades have passed since this traumatic time in my life. I still have every single word of the animated feature memorized. More often than not, the "who could ever love a Beast" mantra rarely crosses my mind. Like the rest of Disney fans out there, I was very, very excited to see the live action film Beauty and the Beast. This really is one of my favorite movies and Belle over the years became one of my favorite Disney Princesses. The events I just described to you have been put out of my mind for years. The events described above have been compounded and pushed down by other traumatic events in my life. It has been pushed down so far, I forget it is even there, for the most part.

Yes, you guessed it, a week ago today, we went to the movies to see the 2017 release Beauty and the Beast, because after all, it was discount Tuesday and with the prices of movies these days, can you blame me? Throughout the day last Tuesday so many other things triggered me. Going back to the concept of compound PTSD, over the last 20+ years I have experienced additional traumatic events that have shaken me to my core. My other blog posts are reflectors of some of these events. Again, I'm not going to go into specifics of those triggers but a rippling effect began early in the day last Tuesday well before even purchasing tickets to the movie. Little tiny popping triggers began to happen, hour after hour throughout that Tuesday. Maybe it was my subconscious unearthing things without realizing it, knowing I was going to the movies that evening. I honestly cannot tell you why everything compounded that day. It sucks. PTSD and panic attacks come out of nowhere when you least expect it.

I should mention here, I LOVED the live action film of Beauty and the Beast. It was all just... wonderful. I enjoyed every minute of the entire feature. During the feature I absolutely did not expect the film to elicit emotions and feelings I have shoved aside for so long. During the film, emotions of the past bubbled to the surface at lightning speed and I had no idea this was going to happen to my psyche, not on a conscious level anyway. On a conscious level, I had no idea my cancer days would smack me in the face so hard and fast it would make my head spin.

On our way home from the late night feature, the roads were empty and who watches the speed limit when it is after midnight and no one is on the road? Yup, we got pulled over. For those of you who have spouses, children or parents in your life with mental illness, interactions with police officers, responding EMTs and flashing red, white and blue lights, can be a familiar sight and not in a good way. Introduce the final compound factor invading my conscious awareness. Insert note here* the officer was incredibly kind in his interaction with us and he had every right to cite us. We were speeding. He let us off with a warning. We got home and that was it, it was over. I imploded within myself. Enter left stage full panic attack complete with seizure and paralytic components.

The Devil is in the Details

Yes, eventually I got up off the cool tile bathroom floor. Yes, eventually I brought myself to a functioning capacity level. Yes, eventually I began to re-focus priorities. Yes, it took days for this to happen. Yes, eventually I emerged from a self-loathing beast back into a wife and mother expressing compassion and concern for people and things around me. Then the weekend happened. Once more, I was smacked in the face with more hardships and struggles. I could hear explosions in the distance. It took every ounce of strength within me to stop more attacks and more triggers. Somehow, I avoided any additional major attacks, but that is not without saying often my breath was constricted, my chest tightened and the darkness of fear consumed me while tears streamed down my face. Depression envelops me, even as I write this post.

The Devil is in the Details. When I woke this morning, I realized, it is the details that have taken me down to a near non-functioning level. It is the details that will once more buoy me up. Today, I will test this theory. Tomorrow I will test this theory. Detail number 1: get back on and stay on the anti-depressants that I stopped taking prematurely. Simple enough. 1 pill a day, I can handle that. Detail number 2: organize priorities. I'm a list maker, make a list and check it off. *note, do not get overwhelmed with the lists. Detail number 3: express small acts of love toward family members through a simple touch, a one line text message or a small act of service. Detail number 4: Do NOT berate self if the list gets lost in the shuffle and things don't get done according to arbitrary deadlines I inherently set for myself, Do NOT berate self if acts of love are overlooked or not acknowledged and Do NOT berate self if antidepressants seem they are not working. Detail number 5: Do Not berate self for berating self. Detail number 6: Pray. Just pray with every ounce of faith I can muster. Detail number 7: Continue with the details. The details of the past can take me down. The details of the future can give me focus, strength, drive and ability to function.

Listen, this blog that I have created is a fluid blog. My posts are live as life happens to me directly and my posts are sporadic. There is not a lot of consistency with the timing of my posts because I don't know when the next burst of events and connective correlations are going to flood my mind. So, I'm going to publish this post before testing my theory of the Devil is in the Details. I don't have the answers. I have experiences but no real answers, not even for myself, let alone anyone else. The truth of the matter is, I am struggling in all kinds of ways right now. The other truth of the matter is, I am thriving in all kinds of ways right now. The choice really is up to me and while I don't have the strength to choose big things like happiness and satisfaction I do have the choice to follow one little detail at a time and maybe, just maybe, little details will add up to become big details. Maybe, just maybe, small glints of detail accomplishments will eventually convert to large views of happiness and core strength.

~Elizabeth~

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