I Live With PTSD, But You’d Never Know It if You Met Me

Last week, I vented on social media about my frustrations with the ongoing Covid situation. I expressed my heartfelt concerns about those who dismiss Covid precautions while many of us, especially the immunocompromised and caregivers, bear the burden of this pandemic. I empathize deeply with our healthcare workers, who must be both traumatized and utterly exhausted by all of this. In that same post, I revealed that I have PTSD stemming from over fifteen years of medical trauma.

I hadn’t intended to disclose my PTSD. For years, I referred to it as medical anxiety, believing that was all I was dealing with—until my therapist helped me see the bigger picture. I had done some research on PTSD and suspected I fit the criteria. That revelation was liberating. Identifying the issue is often half the struggle.

If you were to meet me, you might never guess that I live with PTSD. Even if I shared my story, you might think, like many do, that I’m simply strong and brave. People often commend my courage and positivity, and they’re right. I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not, but there is a darker side to my experience. I often feel exhausted, traumatized, and haunted by my past.

My Medical Journey

Over fifteen years ago, I found myself in the emergency room, breathless and trembling. After suffering for a year and a half with various symptoms—insatiable hunger and thirst, significant weight loss, chronic fatigue, numbness, and blurred vision—all the while being dismissed by doctors as a hypochondriac and anorexic, I finally received a life-changing diagnosis: I was an undiagnosed type 1 diabetic. Minutes later, I was admitted to the ICU, very lucky to be alive.

You might think that one major health crisis would be enough, but life had more in store for me. Eleven years later, I discovered a lump in my breast. Despite initial tests showing nothing alarming, my intuition pushed me to get a second opinion, leading to a biopsy and a breast cancer diagnosis. The following months included MRIs, genetic testing, and a bilateral mastectomy. I was relieved when I learned my cancer had been caught early enough to avoid further treatment. Yet, as appointments dwindled and life returned to normal, the PTSD emerged, bringing constant anxiety.

Addressing My Trauma

I committed to addressing my medical trauma through therapy, meditation, and self-care. While I reluctantly tried anti-anxiety medication, I found it made me too drowsy. I persisted, journaling, attending therapy, and reading about trauma to understand how my mind and body had been affected. I realized I was often stuck in a fight-or-flight mode.

This year, however, I faced another diagnosis of breast cancer, enduring three surgeries, twelve chemotherapy sessions, and now thirty-three rounds of radiation.

The Daily Struggle

Staying present in my daily life is a struggle. I find myself obsessing over medical test results and easily getting lost in research. A call from a medical office sends my heart racing. I keep track of every significant date, from my diabetes and cancer diagnoses to surgery anniversaries. It feels like I’m trapped in a cycle of dread.

Living with PTSD isn’t how many envision it. I can make coffee, drive my kids around, and work, but the trauma lingers. I confront it daily, often unconsciously. Triggers can arise from the most unexpected places—a song, a scent. For example, visiting the dentist can provoke memories of my breast cancer surgery. When Covid first emerged, I couldn’t leave my home, and seeing people wearing masks brought back feelings of helplessness.

I could easily wear a mask of bravery, but that can be exhausting. While PTSD is a significant part of my life, it is not all of me. I’m learning to face it through new methods, including EMDR therapy, which helps reprocess traumatic memories. This choice requires bravery—a quality I possess.

Understanding PTSD

You can’t truly gauge someone’s struggles just by looking at them. PTSD doesn’t have a specific appearance, nor is it limited to certain groups, such as combat veterans. It manifests uniquely in everyone. For instance, I don’t experience nightmares. PTSD is a complex challenge that anyone who has faced trauma can understand. I’m grateful that my trauma isn’t a lost cause, and I believe the journey I’m on will lead to meaningful healing.

Resources for Further Exploration

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Summary

In this personal account, I share my experiences living with PTSD, which has developed over years of medical trauma, including a life-threatening diabetes diagnosis and two battles with breast cancer. Though I appear strong and positive on the outside, I grapple with anxiety and triggers from my past. Through therapy and self-care, I strive to confront my PTSD and find healing.