A community of peers created by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome - descriptions, symptoms, hope...
Widows and widowers often can experience PTSD. If your loved one was involved in an accident, murder, suicide or some other traumatic death - the surviving spouse may have been exposed to sights, sounds, smells or other sensory insults. Caregivers often can experience a high level of stress when caring for another person (usually a family member) with a terminal illness. For example, managing a loved one's symptoms, dealing with crises, witnessing medical trauma or the loss of control.
Other than this, one's imagination often goes into overdrive and fills gaps in information and tries to answer questions - and some of this imagination can also be horrifying or tormenting.
To be diagnosed with PTSD, a person is best served when consulting with a mental health professional with experience in diagnosing and treating PTSD. The mental health professional will determine if you meet certain requirements.
In general, the person with PTSD will evidence a certain combination of symptoms for some time following the event. Just because a person may have experienced a traumatic event does not necessarily mean that they will develop PTSD.
Extremity of Symptoms:
Recurring nightmares.
Panic attacks
Acting or feeling as though the traumatic event were happening again - a "flashback."
Having extreme distress when reminded of the traumatic event.
Physically triggered by recall of the events: a surge in your heart rate, sweating.
Blacking out important parts of the traumatic event.
Experiencing emotional blocks to positive emotions such as happiness or love.
Feeling as though you yourself may die.
Having a difficult time falling or staying asleep.
Increased rage or having outbursts of anger.
Difficulty concentrating.
Feeling constantly "on guard" or like danger is everywhere - being "jumpy" or easily startled.
There are NO therapists in this discussion. This is a peer led thread. I would like to discuss how PTSD has affected you and what methods you have employed to heal.
My own experience was greatly served by receiving EMDR therapy. I feel extremely hopeful about people's ability to resolve or greatly reduce PTSD symptoms with current resources that are readily available in most cities.These are even techniques that we can learn to administer to ourselves if we cannot do long-term counseling.
I am happy to discuss this or my story and symptoms or yours as a way of sharing peer information and bringing personal insight and clarity...
Tags: EMDR, PTSD, accident, caregiver, death, illness, sudden, terminal, trauma
Views: 1601
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by Andrea Renee on -
What is EMDR therapy?
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Permalink Reply by Alive & Mortal on -
Good, Andrea, sorry! I forget that people may not know about it...
"Dual stimulation" or "bilateral stimulation" is used during the therapy session - that employs either bilateral eye movements, tones or taps.
It is used when replaying troubled past memories or even anticipated future experiences while simultaneously experiencing external stimulus.
EMDR generally causes insight, adaptation in memories or new associations.
Usually you are looking at 6 - 8 sessions, I think. Although, it is good to get to know the therapist in a broader context of care than just receiving the EMDR treatments. But, that said, it is an affordable method of treatment that yields freedom from some agony and teaches you how to help yourself in traumatic situations that arise in the future.A list of trained clinicians can be found here
Andrea Renee Row said:What is EMDR therapy?
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Permalink Reply by Robinmo on -
I've been told I had "mild" PTSD from managing our household for so long while Kevin was ill. For example, I am compulsive about having toys or paper on the floor, even though I'm NOT a neat person, because he was at risk of falling for such a long time during the downhill slope of many months before he died. I always think this was exacerbated by having a toddler who loved to throw toys at the same time.... it doesn't really trigger me, but I attend to it like I'm sort of a different personality. Someone who CARES about a clean floor. :-)
I doubt that "mild PTSD" is treatable but it was nice for me to know it wasn't just craziness. Thanks for opening this discussion!
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Permalink Reply by Kerryn on -
Robinmo,
I also was told that - after managing most everything and making it so that during the 13 yrs, when Dave felt good and wasn't doing chemo, he could be active and enjoy time w/ the boys - that I was suffering from mild PTSD.
One thing I found very interesting was that our counselor talked about with me and wanted to be sure I conveyed to my boys' teachers - they are 15 and 12 - great ages to not have their dad around - was that dealing with their grief may look/act a lot like PTSD - coming and going, especially for teens, and to be sure their teachers didn't ever do the - "Well, it's been this long, time to get over it." that their greif would come in waves, flashes, etc., and that they shouldn't fight it, but deal with it as it comes. Most of the staff (I teach in the same district) have been wonderful, in a way because they are my colleagues, but also because they pay attention to what is going on w/ our kids. I guess it made a lot of sense when explained that way, and it was also something the teachers could understand as well.
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Permalink Reply by Alive & Mortal on
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Yes, that makes sense that you developed a stimulus-response reaction to the dangers of a floor. Do you mind me asking what repercussions caring for Kevin at home had for you? Many of us have never seen a dying person until it is one of our intimates, so we are really unprepared for the process and it can be pretty earthshaking. The changes that I saw my beloved go through were pretty harrowing and then my failures as a caretaker were haunting me as well. If you fared better than I, I would love to hear how you oriented your mind as you walked through days of caretaking. For me, it was something I had to get help with, I think if I had not I might have taken a very different path with grief, one full of being haunted.
Robin Moore said:
I've been told I had "mild" PTSD from managing our household for so long while Kevin was ill. For example, I am compulsive about having toys or paper on the floor, even though I'm NOT a neat person, because he was at risk of falling for such a long time during the downhill slope of many months before he died. I always think this was exacerbated by having a toddler who loved to throw toys at the same time.... it doesn't really trigger me, but I attend to it like I'm sort of a different personality. Someone who CARES about a clean floor. :-)
I doubt that "mild PTSD" is treatable but it was nice for me to know it wasn't just craziness. Thanks for opening this discussion!
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Permalink Reply by Robinmo on
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A stealth tumor (too small to detect) had eaten a hole in his spine. If it had broken -- any pressure at all -- he would have lost the use of his legs and become incontinent. This was too horrible to think about and we assumed it meant the start of a rapid downward spiral, and most of all, letting go of any hope of a drug cure.
Then he had surgery to repair this. The recuperation from the surgery... of course, the same precautions: no falling. Unthinkable possible outcomes.
Then one of the two struts in the titanium repair work BROKE. He had pain -- you can imagine two pieces of thick wire loose in your gut, which is already tumor-filled? With just one strut remaining, he was at risk, again, of falling.
He felt so delicate. During this time he was on no treatment, radiation, recuperation from radiation with no drugs, one miracle drug, one rest period, another miracle drug. These of course made him feel more and more fragile -- but somehow, not closer to actual death, just the thread of life was getting thinner and thinner.
One day after the surgery he insisted on going down a slide with our toddler. It nearly killed me, but I took video just in case someone smiled. I'm terrified to look at it.
When a human body is breaking... when it's someone you're RESPONSIBLE for and yet POWERLESS over (in all ways) -- oh my. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The kind of horror you can adjust to living with every day, but that does something bad to you inside that is hard to handle. For me, it's been years of processing of this nearly one year of the long downhill...
Had we admitted that we knew he was dying... not trying to go to the playground! -- maybe that would have been more respectful of that fragility, maybe easier to live with. It's my fantasy, my "what if." Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference: he was still breaking before my eyes.
I suppose I was haunted, as you say. Maybe still am, a bit. Was there help? I had therapy. Nothing specific, there was so little available, I looked, but then again, maybe not hard enough given the stresses and strains I was under already.
Anyone else?
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Permalink Reply by Alive & Mortal on
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Robin, this makes my heart ache. I can imagine what this was for you because you are so articulate in expressing what it was like. Coming face to face with fragility - harrowing. How have you been processing this? Is it an internal private thing for you or have you found sources external to yourself to work with this trauma?
Robin Moore said:A stealth tumor (too small to detect) had eaten a hole in his spine. If it had broken -- any pressure at all -- he would have lost the use of his legs and become incontinent. This was too horrible to think about and we assumed it meant the start of a rapid downward spiral, and most of all, letting go of any hope of a drug cure.
Then he had surgery to repair this. The recuperation from the surgery... of course, the same precautions: no falling. Unthinkable possible outcomes.
Then one of the two struts in the titanium repair work BROKE. He had pain -- you can imagine two pieces of thick wire loose in your gut, which is already tumor-filled? With just one strut remaining, he was at risk, again, of falling.
He felt so delicate. During this time he was on no treatment, radiation, recuperation from radiation with no drugs, one miracle drug, one rest period, another miracle drug. These of course made him feel more and more fragile -- but somehow, not closer to actual death, just the thread of life was getting thinner and thinner.
One day after the surgery he insisted on going down a slide with our toddler. It nearly killed me, but I took video just in case someone smiled. I'm terrified to look at it.
When a human body is breaking... when it's someone you're RESPONSIBLE for and yet POWERLESS over (in all ways) -- oh my. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The kind of horror you can adjust to living with every day, but that does something bad to you inside that is hard to handle. For me, it's been years of processing of this nearly one year of the long downhill...
Had we admitted that we knew he was dying... not trying to go to the playground! -- maybe that would have been more respectful of that fragility, maybe easier to live with. It's my fantasy, my "what if." Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference: he was still breaking before my eyes.
I suppose I was haunted, as you say. Maybe still am, a bit. Was there help? I had therapy. Nothing specific, there was so little available, I looked, but then again, maybe not hard enough given the stresses and strains I was under already.
Anyone else?
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Permalink Reply by Robinmo on
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Harrowing is "le mot juste."
Every few months I get a little stronger and get to it in therapy or in writing. Just accepting that it really happened is pretty hard... I mean, how *did* I survive all that?
I wonder if anyone would read an entire memoir that consisted of my memories of Kevin falling apart... I could do it, for sure.
Kim Go said:
Robin, this makes my heart ache. I can imagine what this was for you because you are so articulate in expressing what it was like. Coming face to face with fragility - harrowing. How have you been processing this? Is it an internal private thing for you or have you found sources external to yourself to work with this trauma?
Robin Moore said:A stealth tumor (too small to detect) had eaten a hole in his spine. If it had broken -- any pressure at all -- he would have lost the use of his legs and become incontinent. This was too horrible to think about and we assumed it meant the start of a rapid downward spiral, and most of all, letting go of any hope of a drug cure.
Then he had surgery to repair this. The recuperation from the surgery... of course, the same precautions: no falling. Unthinkable possible outcomes.
Then one of the two struts in the titanium repair work BROKE. He had pain -- you can imagine two pieces of thick wire loose in your gut, which is already tumor-filled? With just one strut remaining, he was at risk, again, of falling.
He felt so delicate. During this time he was on no treatment, radiation, recuperation from radiation with no drugs, one miracle drug, one rest period, another miracle drug. These of course made him feel more and more fragile -- but somehow, not closer to actual death, just the thread of life was getting thinner and thinner.
One day after the surgery he insisted on going down a slide with our toddler. It nearly killed me, but I took video just in case someone smiled. I'm terrified to look at it.
When a human body is breaking... when it's someone you're RESPONSIBLE for and yet POWERLESS over (in all ways) -- oh my. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The kind of horror you can adjust to living with every day, but that does something bad to you inside that is hard to handle. For me, it's been years of processing of this nearly one year of the long downhill...
Had we admitted that we knew he was dying... not trying to go to the playground! -- maybe that would have been more respectful of that fragility, maybe easier to live with. It's my fantasy, my "what if." Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference: he was still breaking before my eyes.
I suppose I was haunted, as you say. Maybe still am, a bit. Was there help? I had therapy. Nothing specific, there was so little available, I looked, but then again, maybe not hard enough given the stresses and strains I was under already.
Anyone else?
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Permalink Reply by Alive & Mortal on
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I think it is good for others to hear how you are working with that kind of emotional challenge. Hearing that you are going to counseling is informative for people that they do not have to try to deal with this kind of challenge by themselves. I hope to write more about my own process in a day or two when things calm down a bit here.
Robin Moore said:
Harrowing is "le mot juste."
Every few months I get a little stronger and get to it in therapy or in writing. Just accepting that it really happened is pretty hard... I mean, how *did* I survive all that?
I wonder if anyone would read an entire memoir that consisted of my memories of Kevin falling apart... I could do it, for sure.
Kim Go said:
Robin, this makes my heart ache. I can imagine what this was for you because you are so articulate in expressing what it was like. Coming face to face with fragility - harrowing. How have you been processing this? Is it an internal private thing for you or have you found sources external to yourself to work with this trauma?
Robin Moore said:A stealth tumor (too small to detect) had eaten a hole in his spine. If it had broken -- any pressure at all -- he would have lost the use of his legs and become incontinent. This was too horrible to think about and we assumed it meant the start of a rapid downward spiral, and most of all, letting go of any hope of a drug cure.
Then he had surgery to repair this. The recuperation from the surgery... of course, the same precautions: no falling. Unthinkable possible outcomes.
Then one of the two struts in the titanium repair work BROKE. He had pain -- you can imagine two pieces of thick wire loose in your gut, which is already tumor-filled? With just one strut remaining, he was at risk, again, of falling.
He felt so delicate. During this time he was on no treatment, radiation, recuperation from radiation with no drugs, one miracle drug, one rest period, another miracle drug. These of course made him feel more and more fragile -- but somehow, not closer to actual death, just the thread of life was getting thinner and thinner.
One day after the surgery he insisted on going down a slide with our toddler. It nearly killed me, but I took video just in case someone smiled. I'm terrified to look at it.
When a human body is breaking... when it's someone you're RESPONSIBLE for and yet POWERLESS over (in all ways) -- oh my. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The kind of horror you can adjust to living with every day, but that does something bad to you inside that is hard to handle. For me, it's been years of processing of this nearly one year of the long downhill...
Had we admitted that we knew he was dying... not trying to go to the playground! -- maybe that would have been more respectful of that fragility, maybe easier to live with. It's my fantasy, my "what if." Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference: he was still breaking before my eyes.
I suppose I was haunted, as you say. Maybe still am, a bit. Was there help? I had therapy. Nothing specific, there was so little available, I looked, but then again, maybe not hard enough given the stresses and strains I was under already.
Anyone else?
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Permalink Reply by Hira Animfefte on -
Oh, the what-ifs...they can drive you crazy, I think...The subjunctive hypothetical is Jabberwocky's Cousin. I think about Nelson's last few months, when there were signs that were not heeded, and I can go crazy down that rabbit hole.
I should get EMDR. I should, but I have no funds for it.
Kim Go said:I think it is good for others to hear how you are working with that kind of emotional challenge. Hearing that you are going to counseling is informative for people that they do not have to try to deal with this kind of challenge by themselves. I hope to write more about my own process in a day or two when things calm down a bit here.
Robin Moore said:
Harrowing is "le mot juste."
Every few months I get a little stronger and get to it in therapy or in writing. Just accepting that it really happened is pretty hard... I mean, how *did* I survive all that?
I wonder if anyone would read an entire memoir that consisted of my memories of Kevin falling apart... I could do it, for sure.
Kim Go said:
Robin, this makes my heart ache. I can imagine what this was for you because you are so articulate in expressing what it was like. Coming face to face with fragility - harrowing. How have you been processing this? Is it an internal private thing for you or have you found sources external to yourself to work with this trauma?
Robin Moore said:A stealth tumor (too small to detect) had eaten a hole in his spine. If it had broken -- any pressure at all -- he would have lost the use of his legs and become incontinent. This was too horrible to think about and we assumed it meant the start of a rapid downward spiral, and most of all, letting go of any hope of a drug cure.
Then he had surgery to repair this. The recuperation from the surgery... of course, the same precautions: no falling. Unthinkable possible outcomes.
Then one of the two struts in the titanium repair work BROKE. He had pain -- you can imagine two pieces of thick wire loose in your gut, which is already tumor-filled? With just one strut remaining, he was at risk, again, of falling.
He felt so delicate. During this time he was on no treatment, radiation, recuperation from radiation with no drugs, one miracle drug, one rest period, another miracle drug. These of course made him feel more and more fragile -- but somehow, not closer to actual death, just the thread of life was getting thinner and thinner.
One day after the surgery he insisted on going down a slide with our toddler. It nearly killed me, but I took video just in case someone smiled. I'm terrified to look at it.
When a human body is breaking... when it's someone you're RESPONSIBLE for and yet POWERLESS over (in all ways) -- oh my. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The kind of horror you can adjust to living with every day, but that does something bad to you inside that is hard to handle. For me, it's been years of processing of this nearly one year of the long downhill...
Had we admitted that we knew he was dying... not trying to go to the playground! -- maybe that would have been more respectful of that fragility, maybe easier to live with. It's my fantasy, my "what if." Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference: he was still breaking before my eyes.
I suppose I was haunted, as you say. Maybe still am, a bit. Was there help? I had therapy. Nothing specific, there was so little available, I looked, but then again, maybe not hard enough given the stresses and strains I was under already.
Anyone else?
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Permalink Reply by Vertical on -
I went through several months of these symptoms. They do creep back into my life every once in a while...My husband died in a helicopter crash along with another person. I started 'living the crash' several months after it happened. I didn't have any information about what happened - and still do not - so I was trying to figure out what had happened, what he may have been thinking, feeling, what was flashing through his mind and trying to answer the question 'why didn't he just jump out'. That last part was just something that I had said one time to him. I told him that if he ever got into a situation just tell his student to unbuckle and both of you just jump. I didn't care about sitting that bird down - just that they got down okay.
However, this isn't what happened and I had no other information. I also could not see him after the crash. The funeral home brought his body up and had, what seemed like 20 body bags, around him with a quilt over that. They took his left hand out for me to hold - still under the body bag - and when I held him, I could feel how broken he was. There were several people waiting in the wings (funeral home staff) watching me, trying to stay hidden but I knew that they were afraid that I would try and take everything off in order to see him. The medical examiner had to call me three times for identifying marks even though they had his pilot license/drivers license and other ways to verify it was him. So I knew it was bad.
I was starting to get panic attacks to the point that I had to lay down or I was afraid I'd fall down. It got so bad that I stopped carrying my son up or down the stairs and taught him very early how to go on his own and hold my hand. All the symptoms listed above - a part of my every day life for quite a while.
Then it all stopped. I think it stopped because I started down this path of not believing that it happened. I became very good at stopping all emotion when it came to certain topics. I was tired of constantly crying and hurting. So I just stopped that and the PTSD type of symptoms stopped. However, like I said they do creep in from time to time and at very weird moments. There are certain triggers that I am well aware of and try and stay away from but I do know that I am not going down the right path in order to deal with this. I'm creating more problems than solving any at this point. And just because all of these 'symptoms' don't happen all the time every day like they used to - they are still present individually most of the time - they take turns now coming out versus running down the laundry list on a daily basis.I have not been to a counselor, nor have I been diagnosed with PTSD by a professional. A friend, whose family are all psychologists, pointed out the fact that I was suffering from what would be PTSD. I knew it but she voiced it. This week - 1 year and almost 4 months after the crash - I am heading out for five days of grief counseling, meditation, spirituality sessions, energy work and massage. I saw the effects that I had created with not dealing with his death, the crash, the still unknown circumstances surrounding the crash and the way I was pushing everything very deep inside so as to not 'suffer' the effects of PTSD (or anything for that matter). The work that I need to do - is just starting.
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Permalink Reply by Alive & Mortal on
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Vertical, thank you for sharing your story, I hope you will continue to share with us as you grow and explore.
I am so glad that you are going for some self-care. I am certain that you can use lots of TLC.
Some people feel like it takes a while to emotionally get ready to do therapeutic grief work, that if you try too early that the results are limited for the time and money spent. I do not know about that, but it sounds like your inner self is ready to start, in earnest, to develop a supportive structure around your loss, rather than deflection.
Often the "monkey mind" where we envision what things must have been like and try to fill in the gaps between the loose data that we possess -is motivated by our compassion and love for our beloved. But it costs us so much, and we have no clear knowledge if it is close to right. I hope that this path you are on brings more liberation and freedom for you.
I think there is power in people witnessing our story, both for them and for us. I am glad that you are on this journey with us.
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