āMom can we go to Italy?ā my daughter called out to me when she was little. Wondering why she would ask such a thing, I enquired further, āWhy do you want to go to Italy honey?ā
āBecause it would make me happy,” she replied.
āHappy?ā
āYes happy!ā she explained, staring at me like I was missing the obvious.
āBut why Italy?ā I prodded. “Because mom, thatās where they make Nutella, the Nutella Factory is in Italy, and Nutella makes me happy so we should go there.ā
The basic wisdom of her logic touched me. So simple. Going to the people and places that make us happy. Iām not talking about quick gratification… the quick sugar high that comes from eating half a cheesecake in one sitting, or a buzz after too many beers. Iām talking about the pleasure of an evening spent with someone we care about, or doing something that fills us with joy. Mindfully constructing our day so that each contains an element of beauty.
PTSD, anxiety, and depression are all about avoidance. The only problem is, the withdrawal that is associated with protecting ourselves also eliminates new possibilitiesā¦ like visiting the Nutella Factory.
It really stinks… a corner in the reception area of my office, that is. I canāt figure out why. Iāve looked everywhere for the source of the smell, but I canāt find it. Normally the waiting room area is a fresh sunny place where people comment on the pleasing environment and smells. Our yard is full of blooming lilacs, the apple blossoms are out, and the garden is wonderful. But this does not seem to be transferring to the inside. Not this week at least.
Emily Lane, our Office Manager, who works on this floor of the building has been great. With relentless good nature and patience she has been working to uncover the culprit.
On Sunday, I bought a huge number of gorgeous potted flowers that I left on the deck by the office. On Sunday night most of them froze with that unexpected frost. I took them inside and tried to resuscitate them. It turns out it’s not possible to do CPR with geraniums, but some of the pink did come back with the few blossoms I managed to save.
A veteran who has been working hard on his recovery was in the building yesterday. He was the epitome of optimism, noting that all those lovely plants inside helped hide the unwelcomed smell.Ā There you go, a silver lining to every cloud.
I suppose PTSD and operational injuries are like that. The symptoms serve as reminders that there is something that needs to be addressed. It generally isnāt something we are eager to do, but the unwelcomed symptoms wonāt go away until we dig down and find the source of the problem.
So Iām taking action, enlisting the support of professionals who are experts in their areas, confident that we will figure it out, together. Hoping warm weather and pleasing scents find their way back to us soon.
p.s. The day after I wrote this article I arrived at the office and magically the offensive smell was goneā¦ a week after its mysterious appearance. Maybe talking about things does help after all.
Itās complicatedā¦ a standard line delivered in movies when someone is trying to gently tell someone else why they donāt want to date them.
Dating someone with PTSD for sure isnāt easy. Being married to, or a partner with, someone with PTSD also isnāt easy. Wanting to be able to connect but not knowing how, and feeling the burden of shame that prevents intimacy, can be a difficult road. It isn’t simple loving your family or being connected to your friends when you have PTSD. It can be hard not understanding what is happening when it all used to be so effortless.
Is that complex PTSD? It may seem so, but in fact complex PTSD is what happens when we are exposed to childhood trauma and then again more trauma later in life. We may have figured out how to manage the childhood piece, but under the burden of adult trauma exposure, the face of childhood trauma may rear its ugly head. The adult trauma exposure may not by itself have been enough to undo us, but compounded with the early life experiences, the combined weight might be too much.
As I mentioned earlier, it is indeed complicated. Trauma exposure is not something that happens in discrete units. Itās a cumulative thing.
In order to figure things out, we often need to go upstream, back in time. View ourselves as a whole person, in the totality of our experience. This, by necessity, is a voyage of compassionate enquiry.Ā Something not meant to be done alone.
Any outdoor enthusiasts out there know these journeys are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not meant to be done alone. Please join us on this journey.
