Raging Courage

I have always been a person who needs to have a deep understanding of something before I can accept it as truth. This explains why I struggled with math so much in Jr and Sr High. No one took the time to explain to me why letters become numbers, so I was forever lost. To this day, I still have no idea how that happens. I always joke there’s a reason I teach Grade 4 – the math is easy there. All joking aside, I really do need to fully understand how and why something works a certain way in order to “get it”.

Now, some of you know, I’ve been diagnosed (and then re-diagnosed) with a multitude of Mental Illnesses. I’ve been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Severe Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Treatment Resistant Depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Adjustment Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That’s SEVEN different Illnesses. (Technically, it should be 8, because a psychiatrist “diagnosed” me with severe Autism 5 minutes after meeting me. I was anxious and he kicked my boyfriend [my security blanket] out of the room, so I was fighting off panic, resulting in me avoiding eye contact and digging my nails into my hands. Apparently, that made me severely Autistic. But I refuse to count that as a valid diagnosis). Each time I received a (valid) diagnosis, it felt like I had been punched in the gut. I thought I would be relieved to finally know what was happening within my body and mind, but instead of relief, I felt worse. When I was first diagnosed in 2015 with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Severe Depression, I made it my mission to learn all that I could about the brain and how it works. I left my doctors office thinking I was “crazy”. I’m ashamed to admit that now, but I didn’t understand Mental Illness then. All I had known about Mental Illness was what I saw on TV and those were mostly negative portrayals of Mental Illness – the violent schizophrenic, the creepy Multiple Personality Disorder guy who abducted children. I was ashamed to now be part of that “group”. Now, as I type this, it pains me to write those words down for the world to read, because I know now how misinformed I was. But the reason I am telling you this is because I struggled with Mental Illness since I was a child and even I, someone with a Mental Illness, didn’t understand.

I started researching and reading anything I could get my hands on that talked about Generalized Anxiety and Depression. I started to learn about the brain, about neuropathways, about chemical imbalances in the brain. Moreover, I learned that this wasn’t my fault – there was something different in my brain, something I had no control over. It was then I started to embrace the fact that I did indeed have a Mental Illness and that accepting help was okay. Through all of my research, the way I viewed Mental Illnesses changed. I was less judgemental. I recognized warning signs in others because I had those same red flags, but I failed to see them in myself before. I began to see how negatively society views Mental Illness and how often it is used in media as a thing to poke fun of. I began to realize that something needed to change. People needed to be educated so they can understand. Just because someone has Multiple Personality Disorder doesn’t mean they’re going to abduct your child. Just because I suffer from PTSD doesn’t mean I’ll hide under a desk every time there’s a bang. Mental Illness presents differently in everyone. Just as every “ordinary” (I use that term extremely lightly) person has a different life story, so does a person who battles Mental Illness. This is what makes Mental Illness hard to understand and hard to treat.

I have spent four years learning about anxiety and depression. I pretty much can recite to you the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders – 5^th Edition or (DSM-5 for short) diagnosis score charts for depression and anxiety. I wrote a post explaining the difference between anxieties on an airplane with no access to Google or Scholarly Articles. I just have all this knowledge stored in my mind that I don’t even know who to source it to. I understand anxiety. I can recognize it in kids I teach and have been able to teach them strategies I wish I knew as a kid. I found comfort in thinking I “understood” my illness. So you can imagine how thrown I was when my doctor threw “Adjustment Disorder” at me, and then my psychologist said I had “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”. My gut reaction was, “I can’t have that, I don’t understand it, so I can’t have it!” Oh brain, you have so much to learn. To be honest, I haven’t invested in learning about Adjustment Disorder because through my therapy with my psychologist, I have learned that my real issue lies deep within me, stemming from childhood trauma. I have PTSD.

But, here’s the thing. I don’t have the “regular” PTSD. I have a special kind called Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or C-PTSD. Honestly, I didn’t even know that there were two types of PTSD. But now that I’ve done some research and by talking things through with my therapist, I now somewhat understand the difference between the two. Since I started this blog to educate people about Mental Illnesses, I am going to share my research with you so you hopefully can understand what others are going through.

The Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) describes Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as, “a mental illness. It involves exposure to trauma involving death or the threat of death, serious injury, or sexual violence”.  The main indicator within PTSD is that there was a serious perceived threat of death or severe injury at the time. To put it bluntly, the person was exposed to a near-death experience. Examples are ones you could image – a soldier in combat, a police officer in a shoot out with a suspect, firefighter trapped in a burning building, severe car accident survivor… you get my point.

However, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is different. Technically, it’s not even included in the DSM-5, the Bible of Psychological Diagnosing. However, C-PTSD is a very real psychological disorder. Book authors Christine Courtois and Julian Ford, “define complex psychological trauma as involving traumatic stressors that (1) are repetitive or prolonged; (2) involve direct harm and/or neglect and abandonment by caregivers or [other] responsible adults; (3) occur at developmentally vulnerable times in the victim’s life, such as early childhood; and (4) have great potential to compromise severely a child’s development” (Treating Complex Traumatic Stress Disorders, pg 1, 2009). (Also, please forgive me if my sourcing isn’t totally correct – University was a while ago folks.)

As you can see from the definitions, there is a difference between PTSD and C-PTSD. The fact that C-PTSD isn’t included in the DSM-5 shows just how new this knowledge is to even the experts. The DSM-5 was originally published in 2013 and still C-PTSD wasn’t included. There is still much to learn about this second type of PTSD.

However, I can confidently (or as confidently without being a medical professional) say that I have C-PTSD. My psychologist agrees (don’t worry, I’m not diagnosing myself over here). The diagnostic criteria stated above are that C-PTSD involves repeated traumas. I was bullied as a child, beginning in Kindergarten and continuing into adulthood. Check, definitely repeated. The second criteria involves direct harm and the lack of protection from responsible adults. I was physically, verbally, mentally and emotionally abused at school and none of the teachers stepped up to intervene. Harmed and neglected, check. Criteria three and four I definitely meet, as I was a child when all of this started, which means that my brain developed in response to trauma. Vulnerable and developing, check. According to the criteria above, I definitely have C-PTSD.

The hard thing about having C-PTSD is that most trauma treatments that have been designed are for those struggling with PTSD. Exposure Therapy is designed to slowly help an individual desensitize to their triggers. However, with C-PTSD, I have like a million triggers from different situations. I wasn’t abused once, I was abused over and over and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Traditional Exposure Therapy for PTSD consists of approximately ten 1.5 hour sessions where the individual recounts and records the traumatic memory within the safety of their therapists office. Exposure Therapy also includes exposing yourself to things you’ve been avoiding since the trauma. So, for example, a car accident victim may recount the moments before and after the car accident in therapy, listen to the recording each day and also walk around a vehicle in a parking lot to build up resilience to seeing a car again.

Exposure Therapy for me would literally last for years if I had to go through the ten sessions for EACH trauma I’ve experienced. Thankfully, I have an amazing therapist who is doing his best to navigate me through C-PTSD using Exposure Therapy. But it’s not easy. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him and I can tell you it’s definitely not easy for me. In some ways, I’ve seen progress. I’ve been able to do a few things recently that before would have resulted in MASSIVE panic attacks. I haven’t had to take Ativan in over a month (that’s a big deal y’all, as I was taking like 2-3 a day before). As slow as it is, I am getting parts of my life back. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I still grieve the things trauma has stolen from me that I haven’t got back yet, or will never be able to get back. I struggle with what to say to people when they say I don’t have PTSD because I’ve never been to war or witnessed an accident like the Humboldt Broncos did. I struggle with medical professionals who dismiss my diagnosis because “I didn’t almost die”. I’ve been embarrassed to share that I have PTSD because of these reasons, let alone drop the bomb of the controversial C-PTSD.

But this is my story. I was repeatedly abused as a child. My brain was still developing and I was vulnerable. The adults I trusted to protect me didn’t. I have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This afternoon I was trying to read a book but couldn’t focus enough to retain anything (this is a common problem I have now, sadly. I miss being able to read for hours on end). I pulled out my phone and had this urge to search for trauma quotes on Pinterest. I was blown away by all the quotes I found about C-PTSD. I pinned a bunch of them to my Bullet Journal Board so I can record them on paper some time. But it was so empowering for those short moments I was able to focus on Pinterest, to read quotes from people who have C-PTSD, who recognize it and who believe it.

There was one quote that really stuck out to me this afternoon that doesn’t necessarily speak to C-PTSD, but addressed something I’ve been struggling with lately. Is it okay for me to be sharing my story? Am I breaking some rule? Am I offending someone? Am I going to be judged for this? Am I just going to make things worse for myself? The quote was from Alex Elle and said, “You’re not a victim for sharing your story. You are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth and your raging courage.” I read that and my heart skipped a beat. I mean that’s a pretty empowering quote. There’s so many powerful words in there… survivor… setting the world on fire… light… warmth… raging courage. These are words that aren’t often used to describe trauma survivors. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to it – it was a different way to define myself than “individual suffering from C-PTSD”. But I also walked away after reading that quote with the reassurance that it’s okay to tell my story. It’s okay to admit that I have C-PTSD and fight for people to acknowledge that it is a real thing. It’s okay for me to share my trials and my joys because maybe just maybe, they’ll meet someone where they’re at in just the right moment.

So, I will move forward with raging courage. I will continue to be vulnerable, to educate and share my story. If you’re fighting beside me, know that you matter. Your story matters. Find that raging courage (I just love that phrase) and continue to fight. We are courageous. We can do this.

Fight on, fighters.

Love,

Becca