Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Living with a person who has been diagnosed
with PTSD is challenging. Living with a child who has been diagnosed with PTSD
is heartbreaking.
From an academic perspective of learning more about this mental health issue,
helping a child through PTSD would probably bring more insight to the issue
than perhaps working with an adult. Children are, after all, unfiltered
versions of adults. Their reactions and the simplicity with which they are able
to express themselves are often highly insightful. From an emotion-filled and parent perspective,
however, it is indescribably difficult. On a daily basis, as a family, we are
dealing with a very hurt, very vulnerable and fragile child who became this way
not by our doing. He is a helpless victim. He did not ask to be born into his
circumstance. It is not his fault that his very sensitive nature has caused him
to struggle so much more than his siblings, siblings who experienced the same
trauma and witnessed the same events. It is difficult as parents for us to
refrain from showing our own emotions (helplessness, sadness, anger—anger at
the people who caused him such pain, not anger at him). We are certainly
learning a lot—about him and about ourselves, his limits, our limits, his
triggers, our own triggers.
I
am actually surprised that more people are not diagnosed with PTSD. As things
unfold, and more information surfaces about my child’s history, I cannot help
but begin to wonder how I would cope given the same circumstance. The strength
that I see everyday as this little guy gets up and moves along in his life is
inspiring. He is trying new things, learning about his emotions, and making
extraordinary gains. We are not doing anything fantastically special with this
boy day in and day out. We are only giving him what our own biological children,
and most children take for granted. Love. Compassion. Physical and emotional
safety. Routine. Food. Shelter. Security.
When
we are in the middle of one of his triggered episodes--they happen only every 2
weeks or so now, reduced from the initial daily frequency--I must remind myself
of how far he has come. For example, once he is calm, he can now use his words
to explain what made ‘the feeling’ come. Months ago, we would have a three hour
crying jag that alternated between extreme sadness to extreme anger that
brought no understanding to what was the cause and left everyone feeling
completely baffled, drained and helpless. We are beginning to be able to
predict and prevent triggers. For example, when going somewhere new, we have
learned to point out all the exit signs, smoke detectors, fire extinguishers,
fire staircases. If it is a seated event (play, hockey game etc) we make sure
to be sitting on the aisle in case we need to make a quick departure. We talk
through scenarios of what we would do should an earthquake/flood/fire/monsoon/hurricane
strike. He has an extreme fear of disasters (natural and man made) and if we
discuss how to deal with them (as opposed to minimizing them by saying
everything is fine, or brushing them
away by saying these things won’t ever happen, as is our instinct as parents),
we allow him to feel somewhat in control of his circumstance. Totally
understandable for someone who had terrible things happen to him that were out entirely
of his control. There are several ways that we have adapted to help him through
his days. We have discovered that anxiety builds when the laundry gets behind,
and the fresh clothes are stacked in the laundry room instead of in his
drawers. Totally understandable when you
stop to think about it, as we now know that this triggers feelings of the old
days when he had no clothes at all to wear. At first, I worked hard to keep his
drawers stocked. Now, he helps me put his clothes away and I sense this gives
him more of a sense of control over his belongings than if I just did it. I am
helping him to own his present. Another
trigger that is unavoidable is the phone ringing. The ringing phone used to cause
him to come running from wherever he is to say “It’s the cops. They are coming
to take us away.” Now, he will continue to do whatever he is doing, but he will
always refer to the police under his breathwhenever the phone rings. That one
is getting better but it will resurface if it is a particularly anxious day.
Learning
about PTSD is an ongoing learning process. For example, if I am going to visit the school
for any reason, I am sure to tell him. One time, in the early days, I did not think
to tell him. One of his classmates told him that he saw his mom in the hall.
This triggered a full blown five hour episode consisting of crying, anger,
screaming, sobbing, rocking, destroying things…followed by a repeat of all of
the above actions. We finally were able to understand that when his classmate
told him this, he had a flashback and thought I was his biological mother and
that she was coming to get him. Upon speaking with his teacher, we learned that
he was absolutely fine all day at school. This meant that he held it in all day
only to release once he was home and felt safe. I get exhausted and emotionally
drained just remembering this particular incident and putting myself in his
shoes as he made his way through his school day with this in his heart. I
cannot imagine living through it as he did.
We
have learned that when an episode is brewing, or has suddenly appeared for a
seemingly unknown reason, we must stop what we are doing and deal with it.
Difficult to do as it often surfaces at the worst times….trying to get out the
door, while dinner is cooking, while another sibling is getting helped with
homework, at an amusement park, or a family gathering. I have created my own
coping mechanism by likening his triggered events to having a child who is
sick, or has a chronic issue. When you think about it, if a child suddenly
vomits, we don’t get stressed at the child…we stop what we are doing and deal
with it with love, concern, sympathy and compassion. One of my children had a
year of having inexplicable seizures. These seizures were always unpredictable
and we always stopped what we were doing to deal with it with love, concern,
sympathy and compassion. Once I was able to rationalize his bouts of extremely difficult and sometimes destructive behaviour,
that I admit initially struggling with quite a bit, I was in a much better place
emotionally to stop what I was doing and deal with it, with love, concern,
sympathy and compassion.
The
bright side of all of this is that he is not his history. His history does not
own him; he owns his history, just as he owns his present and future. PTSD
manifests differently in each person who has it. In our case, there is a light
at the end of the tunnel, and our son is a reminder of the resiliency of
children and the simple power of love, structure and safety.
