Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I have it. I don't want it. When I was first told it was mine, I just assumed it was a nice way to say I'd experienced something out of the ordinary--duh! I had no idea that it was an actual illness that anyone can contract. It has symptoms and side-effects and people who have it often become addicted to drugs and alcohol to escape it. I was assigned to watch more than one video about addictions and how to live with them. I told my psychiatrist I didn't feel that would be helpful, since I don't drink or abuse drugs. He said addiction, in this case, refers to any behavior that is harmful, and cited cutting, anorexia, and compulsive exercise. I watched the videos.

I left the hospital with a list of assigned research projects. The one to which I'm supposed to give priority is learning more about PTSD. It doesn't make me happy. Apparently, because of this, I'll be in therapy for the rest of my life. Not once monthly type therapy, but intensive therapy for as long as it takes for me to learn how to cope with the ups and downs in healthy ways. But once I figure out how to be a real person and live, I'll still have to have checks every two to three years to be certain I'm coping healthily and not having flashbacks or uncontrollable nightmares. I'll be checked on my phobias and isolation tendencies, on my family and friend relationships, and outlook on life, in general.

I'm not sure how I feel about all this. For sure, things could be worse. The psychiatrist said that, given the extent and duration of the abuse I've endured, I'm pretty healthy and he said that's because I'm very strong. It makes me want to cry a little bit. I'm not sure why--gratitude? frustration? sorrow? Regardless, life goes on and I intend to enjoy it.

Last night I spent an hour jumping on a trampoline with my kids and their cousins. It beats the heck out of a night in the psyche ward.