Post-traumatic stress can creep up on you.
Just over a month ago, I spoke with a therapist about D’s accident in 2012, and it became obvious to her that I hadn’t dealt with the trauma.
Unbeknownst to me, the trauma of the entire experience had been impacting my life daily since that fateful night.
As I sat there facing the therapist, listening to her tell me how talking about it was still presenting with obvious physical stress, I started to piece everything together.
I knew I was stressed.
That’s why I was seeing a therapist.
And I knew my anxiety was bad.
But was I still really anxious because of what had happened?
As I sat there, I analysed my body – my neck and shoulders had tightened, I was teary-eyed, my gut was clenched, felt emotional, angry and drained…
And that’s when I saw the sneaky little devil on my shoulder. The constant reminder of that infamous night, the fall, the sound.
I will never forget the sound.
And then 000 call, the CPR, the seizures, the ambos, the waiting, waiting and waiting.
The emergency room, the nurses, bitching about the hospital system, the High Dependency Unit, the shoddy rehab hospital, the arguments with Doctors and Nurses, the therapy, the redundancy, the depression and the ongoing recovery.
And on top of that, there’s the ongoing worry.
The worry it will happen again. That something else will happen. That some road rage incidents will result in a punch to the head. That he will slip in the shower. That after having a few drinks his knee will give way again, and he’ll fall. That, because he’s so tired from work and falls asleep on the couch most nights, that I will wake him to go to bed, and he will drowsily fall over.
That worry – that is post-traumatic stress.
I accepted what the therapist had to say to me and walked out like a dog with my tail between my legs.
Yes, post-traumatic stress was there, and yes, it had a huge impact on my life and health.
Now that I have acknowledged the impact it has been having on me, the work to heal begins.
