This past Wednesday, I met with my individual therapist. She was concerned about what had happened over the course of the previous week and told me she wasn't sure what to expect when she showed up. After I left her a message in distress last week, she thought I would still be really banged up emotionally. She told me she was pleasantly surprised that I wasn't a hot mess.
She said, "Feeling less is not a sign of emotional growth: Feeling just as much but returning to emotional stability faster is." It made me feel really proud of myself. She was acknowledging that even though I had been through a gauntlet of emotional pain over the course of the past week, I was focused and calm. It was not at all what she was expecting and was happy that I was able to return to stability so quickly. I told her a large part of it was that I have had to grieve for too many people in my short life. I have grieving down. That was never the issue, in the first place. The real issue was being prevented from getting closure. That triggered me something fierce. Closure was the one thing I never got to any of the deaths I witnessed and experienced over in Iraq. This past week brought it all back. And living to honor Doc's work and his memory has motivated me to move on and fight. So fight I will. The conversation then moved on to how I handled the anniversary of crossing the berm into Iraq. I told her it really didn't affect me too much other than to give me pause. It took a little bit to really absorb the thought that a decade has passed since that fateful day. I decided to go out to lunch with my daughter and we had a blast all day long. It was great. Then my therapist asked how I felt in situations where parent stand or sit around and talk while their kids play. I shifted uncomfortably. I told her that I tried to avoid conversation as much as possible because I don't want it to come out that I am a combat veteran with PTSD. It's not for my sake, it's for my daughter's. I don't want other parents to not allow their children to play with Caley out of misplaced fear that I'll go nuts. Caley is at a fragile age where she will think that she did something wrong. I don't want to visit that stigma upon her life. My clinician asked me if I identified myself that way when someone asked me what I do. I said that I do because my advocacy work is what defines me, not my job. Well, she told me in no uncertain terms that I need to work on my ability to engage in safe and meaningless small talk. It's what most people do when they are standing around while their kids play. She asked me to think about how else I could answer the question: 'What do you do for a living?' Still working that out. But, for my daughter's sake I better figure it out and fast. She starts learning day care in less than two weeks. I hope that other veterans that are reading this ask themselves that question, too. I know that I have a tendency to be blunt. Not only that, but I also believe that a lie by omission is still a lie. So vets out there, think about it. How to we engage in small talk? Is it something we are comfortable with? Or do we just avoid those awkward situations entirely. I know I have done my best to avoid those situations. I guess now I can't. Time to step outside my very small comfort zone and re-learn something new...
I'm glad you've found a place where you feel safe and can share. That said, honestly I HATE small talk, always have. I guess it's because I think of it as what people say when they've finished talking about the weather. :) 3/23/2013 09:10:59 pm
What you say makes sense. Considering one of the things I used to do in counter-intel was guide conversations toward desired topics, I feel kind of foolish that I didn't think that the opposite would also hold true. If I'm the one doing the listening and asking questions, I can steer the conversation around topics I don't want to discuss.
Maria
4/24/2013 03:34:11 am
Larry - I have tears welling up in my eyes after reading this. This is exactly what I went through when I was in the hard throes of my own PTSD. I felt like such a freak of nature. I was so self conscious of how other people saw me, it was unnerving. I remember feeling like I didn't want to talk to anyone either, because my backstory was not something I could talk about and it often came up. Innocent questions like "So, what do you do" were often triggers for years of anxiety after having lost job after job because I coudln't concentrate because of my PTSD. I didn't know it was just me. I have totally worked out of this, but it took me being surrounded by understanding people who didn't treat me like I was crazy. I finally own my story now and if people don't like that, that's too bad. I accept it. But that acceptance was something that took years of effort. PTSD creates this situation where you have to resculpt your mind. The problem is that the level of mastery you have to have to do this, is like Michaelangelo and it takes like 15 or 20 years to master it with constant effort and a desire to discover what it is all about. You can't do it quickly. Even if you knew what to do to make a beautiful sculpture the job you have to do is the equivalent of having to sculpt an entire building out of the side of a mountain. I used to have those moments too and what you wrote reminds me of a week I had once too, where my therapist was happy I wasn't a mess. I always felt that my behavior was a surprise to people too and the instability of it drove me crazy and made me worry that people could not handle being around me or dealing with me. I still have moments - this christmas was one of the worst ever with new triggers and things that added to it - but I got through it, finally. It took four months to undo that. It's cool when you can break through sooner. The television show in your mind that PTSD is as easy to control as a mean neighbor who has dogs that bark all the time, plays his music too loud and has a chip on his shoulder. lol. Thank you for sharing. This was the very first time I'd ever heard anyone express these kinds of thoughts and feelings. I thought I was a freak, I didn't know this was normal for PTSD. thank you for this. Comments are closed.
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Max HarrisAs I continue my life with PTSD, I will share my challenges and discoveries on this blog. Archives
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