Love is the balm that heals
Learning to love myself and forgive others.
THIS IS WHAT PTSD and TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY FELT LIKE FOR ME. Like I was sinking and no one around wanted to save me.
NOTE: when I refer to PTSD, my PTSD includes my TBI. I do not explicitly say TBI in each instance however the many issues I had included trauma from traumatic brain injury and post traumatic stress disorder.
Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
On it is many a strong spirit broken,
And with it many a good purpose dies.
It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning
And robs us of courage we need through the day:
It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning
And laughs when we falter and fall by the way.
by Edgar Guest (an excerpt)
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is part of my life since a near fatal car accident fifteen years ago. I needed to learn to live with both PTSD and a TBI (traumatic brain injury). It took a while to integrate these parts of myself into my life. In order to do that, I needed to learn to be compassionate and kind to myself. First, I needed to grieve the loss of who I was. That person was gone and a new version existed. I was angry and in denial for a long time. I didn’t know this foreign version of myself and I didn’t like her.
Before my accident, I was strong, compassionate, and capable. I handled everything on my own and didn’t need help. I laughed and giggled. I went to clubs and danced. I drove long distances just for fun. I traveled! And I spoke up when something was wrong.
This was me in Hawaii three years before my accident. I was holding this beauty with what will be my disabled arm.
The PTSD and TBI made me angry and timid. I couldn’t speak up for myself anymore. I lost the parts of me I loved. My ability to communicate, to feel strong, to be independent, to go outside were gone. I felt trapped in my life with an evil twin. I stopped driving. Noises frightened me. My speech was affected. Fear and anxiety gripped me daily. That’s not living.
I went to a therapist who specialized in trauma. This helped me learn tools I needed to communicate effectively with myself and others. It helped me process the pain and grief. It helped me to get out of the house once a week. It didn’t change the fact that I had PTSD and a TBI but it helped me learn to live more harmoniously with them.
I needed to become aware of when I needed space, rest, exercise, nourishment and time to decompress. I learned to be honest with myself about what I was feeling and understood how to convey my wants and needs to others more effectively. Many times my sentences sounded like “I have PTSD so I can’t handle….” I learned later that many people can’t handle x, or y or z. And it doesn’t always have to be PTSD. By learning how to say my sentences differently, I gave PTSD less control over my life. Now I say “I prefer a quiet environment.” Or “I don’t care for large crowds”. In both of these instances I choose! PTSD and the TBI don’t get to run my life. In the beginning it felt like PTSD took control of me. I learned to live with PTSD, not control it. Now, I acknowledge and respect it.
The journey from there to here has not been easy.
The word “can’t” use to easily flow from my lips. Like Edgar Guest says, this one word does “more harm than slander and lies.” Each time I said it, felt like a piece of my soul was being carved out of me. Every day began with some version of this.
“I can’t wake up today.”
“I can’t be around people, it’s too hard.”
“I can’t be around noise, it’s too triggering.”
“I can’t handle a rainy day. It reminds me of my accident”
“I can’t stop crying.”
“I can’t feel anymore. I can’t even cry.”
“I can’t move. My body hurts so much.”
“I can’t live like this. It’s too hard.”
All of the “can’t” sentences created the shroud of shame and guilt that enveloped me, and kept me isolated. It felt like something was wrong with me that could not be healed. I thought I would be like this forever–angry, hurt, sad and very lonely. I did my best to smile for my daughter. I am certain I failed many times. She saw my sadness and anger. She witnessed the pain and I saw the tears fill up her eyes knowing she was hurting watching me hurt. She was unable to fix me.
I wanted someone to save me. I felt like I was drowning in pain. The truth is, I didn’t need to be saved, I needed to feel whole. The PTSD and TBI left me feeling empty, worthless and alone. I was angry at the people in my life who didn’t come to help me or my daughter. This added to my feelings of worthlessness. My daughter loved me through the worst but even this wasn’t enough because I needed to love myself.
I held on tightly to this anger, at my family and the driver who hit me. The driver was a nineteen year old who legally should not have been driving a rental car. One of the five other people in the vehicle was the renter and definitely more experienced. That night there was freezing rain and I was in a six car accident. I was car number five. The nineteen year old was in car number six. Car one spun out of control. Car two and three collided. Car four hit the guard rail. Car six t-boned my car leaving me with PTSD, a physical disability, and hearing impaired from the airbags. We were one of twenty accidents that night. That impact was hard and loud on the passenger side. Airbags deployed sounding like exploding bombs. Shards of glass flew all over hitting my face and arms and filling the entire car. I smelled burning rubber and sulfur, the remnants of the accident. I was hit once by the van and then after my car completed a full spin as if it was dancing on ice, it skid sideways and slammed into the cement median where a second airbag deployed. The nose of my car landed twelve inches away from his. I was left facing oncoming traffic for five hours. I thought I was dying that night. I floated in and out of consciousness. It was the scariest night for me. In my mind, this could have been avoided if a more experienced driver was behind the wheel.
Every time it rained, anger, fear and anxiety swelled like waves and I felt flooded with emotions. During these flooded moments, I was unable to understand what was happening in my body and mind. I felt like I was in survival mode. Rain became a trigger.
My daughter was a teenager when I had my accident. Everyone her age was getting their driver's license. I wouldn’t allow this. I became restrictive thinking I was saving her life. I associated young drivers with the driver who hit me. This extended to her not being allowed in cars with teenagers. If it was raining she had to be home. In my mind, I thought what I was doing was protecting her. I feared every day she would die. PTSD causes irrational thoughts. This was certainly an irrational thought pattern.
I became disabled in my arm. Even after surgery and physical therapy I did not have full use of my primary arm and hand. I required help dressing, cutting food, and doing household chores. Life felt limiting. I hated who I was. I hated what this did to my daughter. The burden on my daughter was more than overwhelming and unfair. She lost the mother she knew and I had no clue who I was.
My pain doctor prescribed a cocktail of opioids for pain relief. During a time of feeling raw, overwhelmed, sad, scared, lonely and angry, I took these emotions out on myself overmedicating from time to time. There was a very scary time during my PTSD until one day I woke up and wanted something different.
Several things happened for the pieces to click together to start my healing.
I fired my pain management doctor and stopped taking Percocet, Percodan, Oxycodone, Vicodin, Tramadol. Instead I learned to live with the pain.
I started MBSR, Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction. It is an eight week class that instructs in intensive mindfulness training for the purpose of reducing anxiety, pain, and depression. I committed to going to this program without pain medication. I wanted to learn how to use my mind and breath instead. Part of this program teaches mindful walking and chair yoga. This was the start of my yoga and mindfulness practice. I learned how to breathe through my pain instead of resisting it. I stopped needing pills to cover it up.
Around this time, I was discharged from physical therapy and told insurance would not cover anymore because I was disabled. I took control of my life and didn’t give up. I began doing yoga at home. Agoraphobia kept me from experiencing life outside. Eventually, I hired a private instructor who helped me feel comfortable enough to be in a class. And guess what? A year after that first class I became a certified yoga instructor! Yes, I am still disabled but yoga is very much a part of my life and has been the biggest part of my healing.
By practicing yoga and mindfulness I learned how to breathe. I think I held my breath for most of my life. It taught me that on my mat, I was safe. I can try or relax or just be. There is no right or wrong. Everything on the mat I CHOOSE. My yoga mat became my safe place. On it I experienced growth, change, openness with flooding tears, and stillness that was more than necessary and needed.
I also gave myself the gift of going to college. This confronted me with disability daily. I had a notetaker and special accommodations but I did it! I completed a degree in Social Work that I wanted for a long time.
Something amazing happened. I learned to forgive and let go of the anger I carried.
When I did one of my internships I met a man with PTSD. I was helping people like myself. Let’s call him Stuart (that isn’t his name). Stuart said “Chellie I want to be where you are with your PTSD.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to feel angry all the time anymore. I want to smile again and be happy. You always look happy. I ruined someones life and I just wish I could say I am sorry.”
I saw how hurt he was. I was in the same place a few years before meeting him.
“It took a long time and a lot of hard work. I believe you can do it if that is what you want.”
Then he shared his story. His PTSD was from an accident. He believed he caused the accident and someone got hurt. As he told me this, shivers ran up and down my body. My heart opened with compassion for him and for the nineteen year old driver who hit me. I never imagined he could suffer like I did. But now, I understood differently. Stuart helped me heal and he had no idea.
“I am so sorry you are feel so traumatized. You know it was an accident and you didn’t do anything malicious. You did not cause anyone to be hurt. You did not do anything on purpose.”
My eyes filled with tears and tears came down from his cheeks. It was as if this moment was meant for each of us.
I told him I held anger in me about my accident for a long time. I told him witnessing his openness and feelings helps me heal. I asked if we could do a role play. He imagined me as the person he hit and apologized to me and I said “Stuart, I am okay. My life is good. I don’t hold you responsible for any of it. I am not angry at you at all. My life is full and complete. I wish the same for you. I hope you can wrap yourself in love, compassion and healing so you can move forward enjoying each moment of life.”
As I spoke those words to him, I wished them far and wide to get to the driver of car number six. I let go of the pain and anger I held onto for so long.
It was one of the most healing moments and I am so grateful for it. Today, I wish my young driver peace, healing and joy.
Today I don’t live with can’t I live with “not yet”.
This is me now. I get outside, enjoy nature. I play with butterflies and birds. I enjoy time with friends and family. I hike and do yoga. I am strong and confident. I feel a sense of peace in my life that hasn’t been there for a long time. I am becoming the me I choose to be and I love who I am.
Links and Resources for Mindfulness that may be useful
Edgar Guest: Can't
Jon Kabat-Zinn: Defining Mindfulness
Insight Timer (free mediatation app)
Chelli - I "met" you indirectly by trying to find out more about Lewy Body Dementia. You are so engaging in the way you speak on the videos. I think you have my email. Let me know how to access any of your writings and also let me know if you do any kind of coaching. You come across so lovely and so willing to help.
Thank you for sharing your story and your vulnerability! I'm inspired by how many things you've overcome. And hope that life continues to bring you success!