{"id":2835,"date":"2013-06-16T21:22:37","date_gmt":"2013-06-17T02:22:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/?p=2835"},"modified":"2013-06-16T21:22:37","modified_gmt":"2013-06-17T02:22:37","slug":"post-traumatic-stress-disorder","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/general\/post-traumatic-stress-disorder\/","title":{"rendered":"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>During my Friday lunch break my wife sprang a sudden question, \u201c<em>Do you suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?<\/em>&#8221; Powerful emotion immediately overcame me, I turned to the window and gazed out of it for the minute or so it took me to regain emotional control.\u00a0 Without meeting her eyes, for I had no desire for her to see the remnants of tears in my own, I replied, \u201cYes, I think I do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>This prompted a tweet a little later,<\/p>\n<blockquote class=\"twitter-tweet\" data-width=\"500\" data-dnt=\"true\">\n<p lang=\"en\" dir=\"ltr\">At lunch today my wife asked &quot;Do you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?&quot;<br \/>As I blinked away a tear,<br \/>and hid, I knew, I did<br \/>and do.<\/p>\n<p>&mdash; C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) <a href=\"https:\/\/x.com\/CGAyling\/status\/345631993494663168?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw\">June 14, 2013<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><script async src=\"https:\/\/platform.x.com\/widgets.js\" charset=\"utf-8\"><\/script><\/p>\n<h6>At lunch today my wife asked &#8220;Do you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?&#8221; As I blinked away a tear, and hid, I knew, I did and do.<\/h6>\n<p>My companions on Twitter responded with mostly silent support, which I greatly appreciate as talking about my own emotional pain does little to lessen it for me.\u00a0 However posting about it isn\u2019t really talking, it\u2019s simply speaking without the fear someone will ask piercing questions that re-open old wounds. Thus this post.<\/p>\n<p>Well then, what is PTSD? The National Institute of Mental Health define it in this article &#8220;<a title=\"the National Institute of Mental Health\" href=\"http:\/\/www.nimh.nih.gov\/health\/topics\/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd\/index.shtml\">What is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)<\/a>&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>As a combat veteran, I\u2019m a candidate for the NIMH\u2019s classic definition.\u00a0 Of their list of symptoms, I regularly experience all but two \u2013 namely, \u201c<em>Having trouble remembering the dangerous event<\/em>\u201d, and \u201c<em>Being easily startled<\/em>\u201d.\u00a0 Indeed, sometimes I rather wish I suffered from memory problems of so specific a nature that I could forget everything bad that ever happened. {Actually I don\u2019t wish anything of the sort, for reasons I&#8217;ll explain later}.<\/p>\n<p>That said, as with many things my own understanding and definition of the term PTSD differs from the widely accepted.\u00a0 I believe<em> anyone who suffers mental trauma<\/em> of a particularly unpleasant nature is a candidate for PTSD.\u00a0 I have no doubt this ailment is far more widespread than the NIMH\u2019s restrictive definition implies.\u00a0 I don\u2019t think drugs are the solution. In fact, I don\u2019t consider PTSD an ailment at all. \u00a0In my opinion, it\u2019s a learned response intended to keep us out of danger by ensuring we don\u2019t forget the events leading to our traumatic experience.<\/p>\n<p>As Jorge Agust\u00edn Nicol\u00e1s Ruiz de Santayana y Borr\u00e1s, or George Santayana, once said, <strong><em>\u201cThose who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Yes, the effects of PTSD are debilitating, but would I give up my most terrible memories to gain relief?\u00a0 I would not.\u00a0 You see those memories, perhaps even more so than the actual events, are factors that have shaped me into who I am.\u00a0 I lived through the events only once.\u00a0 Yet I\u2019ve repeatedly relived them in my memory.\u00a0 Repetition is an age old mechanism of learning.<\/p>\n<p>Yes, I often loathe myself for the things I\u2019ve done, the stances I never took, the words I never said, the things I didn\u2019t do yet know I should have.\u00a0 However without those events, and especially the memories of them, I simply would not be me.\u00a0 I&#8217;m not saying I love myself and that you should too.\u00a0 Not at all.\u00a0 However after decades I&#8217;m finally finding peace and I sincerely hope sharing my thoughts might aid any of you who have ever suffered from any truly traumatic event.\u00a0 For me sympathizing with other helps, where having others offer sympathy to me does not.<\/p>\n<p>With the type of memories that my personal PTSD invokes in mind, I wrote two poems, which follow.\u00a0 I hope they strike a chord within you and that perhaps you enjoy the second.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&lt;&lt;-0-&gt;&gt;<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><em>~ <strong>Memory, of Pain<\/strong> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories I ever dread,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> yet know<\/em><br \/>\n<em> will come again.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pride and duty,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> then memory, of their disdain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of valor,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> of selfless acts, and tragedy.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of loss,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> then memory, of disdain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of high regard,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> of sacrifice and atrocity.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of shame,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> then memory, of my disdain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories that take<\/em><br \/>\n<em> much more than they give.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories that tear themselves apart,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and then themselves, rebuild again.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories for all time,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> that each recollection redefines.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories of guilt<\/em><br \/>\n<em> at others\u2019 blood we spilt.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories we can\u2019t refute,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> for our guilt seems absolute.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories, of why.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories that always make us cry.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories of joy we treasure.<\/em>,<br \/>\n<em> Even as memories of pain<\/em><br \/>\n<em> we lay to rest,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> as from their memory<\/em><br \/>\n<em> we refrain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Who knows what<\/em><br \/>\n<em> our memories will unearth?<\/em><br \/>\n<em> And with their resurrection<\/em><br \/>\n<em> grant our forgotten pain,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> rebirth.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Alas, only Warriors from the fray<\/em><br \/>\n<em> will ever fully know<\/em><br \/>\n<em> how terrible was the day,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> when conscience<\/em><br \/>\n<em> struck<\/em><br \/>\n<em> us down.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> A bitter pill indeed\u2026<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to know we did<\/em><br \/>\n<em> no good.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, of pain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories forever remain.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memories, of mine\u2026<\/em><br \/>\n<em> These memories\u2026<\/em><br \/>\n<em> are the memories<\/em><br \/>\n<em> that<\/em><br \/>\n<em> our character<\/em> define.<br \/>\n<em> Memory, of mine.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&lt;&lt;-0-&gt;&gt;<\/p>\n<p>And now, as reward for those that read this far, a lighter poem.\u00a0 Hopefully it will ease you from any anguish invoked by the first.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><em>~ <strong>Memory, of Youth<\/strong> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Flowing circles,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> drawing closer, then away.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Trigger words, and trigger sounds,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> so many triggers, for memories abound.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> A gleam of light,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> a shadowed figure passing by,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> a sidelong glance, a down-turned eye.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Sympathy perceived, or offered<\/em><br \/>\n<em> seldom fail<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to unlock memory&#8217;s coffers.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> A wafting wind brings to mind<\/em><br \/>\n<em> a youth long lost.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Memory, our lost youth will find<\/em><br \/>\n<em> and full strength, to us return<\/em><br \/>\n<em> the dreams we had, the dreams,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> that burn.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Remembered dreams will we hold tight<\/em><br \/>\n<em> before reluctant, we them release.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Our slow drooping eye heralds sleep&#8217;s return,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Where we will find fresh dreams,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> fresh hopes,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> of peace.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><br \/>\n<em> Slumber grants new dreams,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> we clench and grasp them, tight<\/em><br \/>\n<em> but still we feel them slip away<\/em><br \/>\n<em> as we awaken,<\/em><br \/>\n<em> to a newborn day.<\/em><br \/>\n<em> ~<\/em><\/p>\n<p>{Thank you for reading. Please remember I&#8217;m an author, your support in purchasing my works would be most gratefully received. If interested, head on over to <a href=\"https:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/samples\/malmaxa\/beltamars-war\/\">[Samples]<\/a>, where you can read the opening of the first novel in my Epic, Malmaxa.}<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>During my Friday lunch break my wife sprang a sudden question, \u201cDo you suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?&#8221; Powerful emotion immediately overcame me, I turned to the window and gazed out of it for the minute or so it took me to regain emotional control.\u00a0 Without meeting her eyes, for I had no desire for [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,7],"tags":[326,336],"class_list":["post-2835","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general","category-heavy-stuff","category-poetry","tag-post-traumatic-stress-disorder","tag-ptsd"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2835","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2835"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2835\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2835"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2835"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2835"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}