PTSD

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.