Itās not uncommon to hear people say that thereās no recovery from PTSD.
Well, in my mind, thatās simply not the case.
It’s true that you’ll never go back to being exactly the same person you were before you were injured. But when you think about it, how many of us are ever the same as we used to be? As we learn and grow in life, we canāt help but grow from our experiences. What Iām referring to is post traumatic growth.
Sure, life might have been easier if I hadnāt logged seven years working in one of Canadaās largest penitentiaries. I might not have been injured. But then I wouldnāt be the person I am today, and Iām kinda liking her.
Donāt know about you but I certainly donāt want to go back to being my high school self (although the flare jeans with Canada flag inserts were quite fetching).
I definitely do not want to relive the angst of my twenties.
I may have a few more bumps, and scars on me now, but they serve as a testament to the fact that I have truly lived. I have a massive scar across my right knee that I got while building a school in Tanzania. Iām proud of it, and in no way want to erase that experience.
If I work too hard my muscles flare up – reminders of the need to pace myself better. Areas where I have previously been injured will always be vulnerable during times of stress. They serve as my personal barometers for health. I thank these symptoms for gently reminding me when Iām not paying close enough attention to my needs or limits.
I guess Iām saying that I work hard each day to keep the superwoman cape in the closet. Itās not easy because it feels oh so comfortable. I try to simply focus on having a good day, going to bed at night feeling satisfied with whatever small thing I might have been able to accomplish.
So, itās true, you will never be the same person you were before. It is possible, though, to become someone capable of living a rich and full life, wiser for all the things you have experienced.
Warm wishes,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Executive Director, Landing Strong
Letās face it, PTSD is a label. Having a diagnosis can be very helpful as it allows clients to access appropriate resources and supports. However, it doesnāt accurately reflect the experience of recovering from trauma.
When healthy people are repeatedly exposed to traumatic and dangerous situations, itās normal that thereās a residual effect. Like an athlete that runs too many marathons without enough recovery time, injuries are sustained that can be lingering or career-threatening.
The word ādisorderā does a disservice to the injuries suffered by those who put themselves in harmās way in the course of their work. People with PTSD are not disordered, they are injured. Their wounds originate from repeated or severe exposure to trauma. Thereās nothing disordered about that, itās a natural and predictable reaction to unnatural events or situations.
Just because itās invisible, doesnāt mean itās not real. Weāre going to increasingly be using the term PTSI in our communications. These injuries are significant, severe, and potentially life threatening if not tended to in a thoughtful, compassionate manner. As with any injury, thereās a continuum of severity, ranging from mildly disruptive to debilitating. Not everyone who has these injuries is the same. The mechanism of injury, presentation of symptoms, and severity of harm may vary from person to person. Nonetheless, everyone has an equal right to access treatment and care in a timely manner.
Disorders are something we stick in the corner and donāt quite know what to do with. Injuries are something we heal. So we get it, without the label, itās impossible to access appropriate care. But between you and me, weāll be calling it an injury.
Warm wishes,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Executive Director, Landing Strong
Itās a phrase I hear quite often, usually by people whoāve had harmful experiences that left them feeling disillusioned or hurt.
Itās natural to build walls to protect ourselves when we feel threatened. The problem is, trust is often described in black and white terms: itās there or it isnāt.
In reality, I see trust as having many dimensions. Letās think about it for a moment. If we were facing a zombie apocalypse, who would you most want by your side? Is it the same person who youād hire to care for your children or grandchildren? Probably not. Mary Poppins and Van Diesel definitely fall into different categories of trust. Trusting someone with your physical safety needs is different that trusting them to care for your children.
I trust my husband Joe implicitly, but he might not be my first choice when it comes to decorating cupcakes (flashback to our wedding where we decorated our own bride and groom cakes. Joeās cake consisted of a war scene with Tonka tanks, explosions and GI Joe parachuting down into the middle). Yeahā¦I definitely donāt trust my husband when it comes to decorating cakesā¦ but, I do trust him to be there for me when it comes to the really important stuff.
I like to think of trust as a three dimensional star with many prongs. I can trust some people along many dimensions, others along only a few. Thatās okay, as long as I donāt trust people in areas that arenāt their strength.
So if you catch yourself thinking āpeople canāt be trusted,ā try looking for exceptions in this āall or nothingā thinking pattern. It may be there are some things they do well. See what happens if you modify your expectations accordingly.
Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Founder, Landing Strong
It was on the night of June 5, 1944 that Winston expressed to his wife that they were going to bed with the knowledge that by morning, 20,000 soldiers may have lost their lives.
He was referring toĀ Operation Overlord, the biggest seaborne operation in history.Ā Ā An event that served to turn the tide of the Second World War as 156,000 Allied forces united to stormĀ the beaches of Normandy in an effort toĀ liberate the country from Nazi occupation.
More than 10,000 peopleĀ lost their lives in an all or nothing gamble that paid off, but at tremendous cost.
Yesterday marks the seventy-five anniversary of theĀ D-Day landings.
I woke up this morning with gratitude and appreciation for the sacrifice of those who paved the way for the rights and freedoms that we enjoy today.Ā Ā
To the soldiers, the veterans, their families, and the leaders who bore the weight of such heavy decisions.Ā Ā I give thanks.Ā Ā Ā Ā
Warm regards,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Founder, Landing Strong
When we run programs at Landing Strong, we spend quite a bit of time discussing how to create an environment that feels comfortable and safe. Participants tell me that itās not uncommon to walk into a community coffee group where theyāre initially having a good time, only to have the mood shift once the subject of politics comes up. Suddenly the tone is angry and loud. Instead of ideas and insights forming the discussion, hard opinions become the propulsion for discussion. Listening decreases as each person fixates on ensuring their ātruthā is heard.
When this happens, I know itās just a matter of time until the conversation shuts down, and the potential for insights and wisdom arising from the discussion are lost.
Speaking truthfully without hurting feelings, writes Cheryl Sandberg, Chief Operating Officer at Facebook, is an acquired skill. Itās that wonderful balance between appropriateness and authenticity.
In her book Lean In, Sandberg notes āWhen communicating hard truths, less is moreā¦The ability to listen is as important as the ability to speak.ā
What if we all made it our mission to seek to understand the opinions of others, without needing to be right? How would the world change? We may disagree with what we hear, but at least by listening we are inviting an opportunity for dialogue. Sowing the seeds of change. If we are able to shift our focus from being heard, to accepting the uniqueness of each personās truth, the discussion becomes richer.
I have to admit, I donāt always master this art. But I try.
Please join me in noticing the tone and manner in which we communicate with others. Is it inviting or overbearing? Welcoming or deflective?
As Sandberg confirms, being aware of the problem is the first step to correcting it.
Warm regards,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Founder, Landing Strong
I remember when the kids were little, they had a pet Betta fish. For some reason, that only they would understand, they named it āLlama.” One day, I asked my son to clean the fish water. He happily obliged, but left the small round fish bowl on the bathroom sink (with the fish in it). We went out for dinner, and when we returned, the fish had jumped out of the bowl. A thorough search led to a ghastly discoveryā¦ Llama had completely dried up on the bathroom floor. So dry in fact that I could not pick him up by hand, and had to use a putty knife to gently chip him off. His poor dehydrated form came up in one piece, except for a small segment of his fin that remained cemented to the floor. I dropped him into the fish bowl, preparing to dispense of him.
To my surprise, when I picked up the bowl, I noticed that Llama appeared to be breathing. Watching intently, I saw him magically rehydrate, and slowly regain movement and life. By the end of an hour, it would have been impossible to know that he had been near death. The only telltale sign being a small piece of missing fin.
Trying to understand the miracle I had witnessed, I did some research and learned that Betta fishes were discovered living in puddles, drainage ditches, and rice paddies in China. Extreme changes in environment forced it to adapt, finding a way to survive harsh conditions. The instinct to jump, and find a bigger puddle had backfired on our poor friend. Natural survival adaptation, however, allowed it to shut down its metabolism and wait out the ādroughtā until the opportunity to rehydrate presented itself. Like a dried up puddle being replenished by rain.
Llama the betta fish dried up and came back to life.
Although he made a full recovery and lived for a long time after, he had a chip in his fin (a piece of the middle missing) from the rescue. It didn’t affect his ability to swim, but remained with him, an understated reminder of his resilience.
Recovery from trauma does not mean going back to being exactly the same person we were before our injury. It means learning to move forward: wiser, smarter, and better prepared to protect ourselves against future injury.
