Last summer, I survived a rollover car accident. Just moments after seeing my world turn sideways and feeling as though I was underwater, I climbed out of my broken window, called my boyfriend, filled out an accident report while the at-fault driver was ticketed, took an Uber home, and then a Lyft to the ER. While I was fortunate to sustain minimal physical injuries, I did not anticipate how hard it would be to move on from this night. Weeks later, while I was telling my physical therapist about the bodily tension I was experiencing when driving to my appointment, she suggested that I was showing symptoms of PTSD.
I met with my primary care doctor for a follow-up shortly after, and she suggested that my symptoms were just from my previously diagnosed anxiety disorder, but recommended I consult a mental health professional nonetheless. A few weeks later, I started going to therapy and received my formal PTSD diagnosis. I did not expect to be diagnosed with PTSD, as previously I had believed it to only affect war veterans and survivors of intense abuse; as my therapist provided evidence of my symptoms, I realized that I ticked every box. For the two months since my accident, I had been paranoid to leave my home, haunted by flashbacks, and at times struggled to even think rationally about my accident. My confidence had decreased and I was plagued by negative self-thought. While I had a new car in my garage and my wounds had healed, it seemed impossible to ever recover from this.
While I have had the privilege of access to high-quality mental health care, living with PTSD has forced me to accept that I must also honor my needs for self-care. Previously, taking care of myself was really limited to getting enough sleep and eating breakfast before I left for work. Now, my routine is a bit more complex. I have had to add in time for appointments and picking up prescriptions, while I had previously not seen a doctor in years. There are times when I need to advocate for myself when plans with friends are not within my comfort zone. There are moments when I must be willing to take a break, to avoid becoming overwhelmed and entering a state of panic. When I become really overwhelmed, sometimes I just need to be somewhere dark and quiet, to remove additional stimulation and stressors; sometimes, self-care requires taking a moment to not do anything at all. I used to think that being productive meant being busy, with multiple jobs, classes, and social commitments. Shifting my thinking to accept that productivity must be sustained by caring for myself has been crucial in making life with PTSD more livable.
In moments where I have felt lost and fallen into a dark place, I have found value and hope in creating a life that is more fulfilling than I previously did. I prioritize what is right for me, rather than following the easiest or most conventional path. I have focused on surrounding myself with the people and things that bring meaning to my life. I transitioned from a frustrating retail job to working in education to assist students with disabilities, which I found much more fulfilling. I switched degree plans, graduated early, and was accepted into graduate school for music teaching. In order to prove that I can accomplish great things, I have had to believe that I can accomplish great things and fight against negative self-thought. I have created a life that is fulfilling and that I can look forward to in moments of difficulty.
Being diagnosed with PTSD also made me realize the stigma attached to the diagnosis, as well as many other mental health disorders, and how much of a barrier that creates in discussing mental health or accessing mental health services. I was hesitant to open up to my family about my diagnosis, as I was worried that they would think I was overreacting or laugh at me. Initiating these conversations has opened the door to not only helping them better understand my feelings but being open to discussing theirs. Shortly after I shared my PTSD diagnosis, my father let me know that he had recently met with his doctor to start anxiety medication, after years of struggling with alcoholism and failed treatment plans. My mother, who had previously gone months at a time without calling me, has become more open to letting me know when she's going through an overwhelming time at work or needs support. Initiating these conversations provides insights into ourselves and each other, but also can greatly improve relationships by understanding the needs or hardships of those around us. Coming from the standpoint of an educator, it is especially important for students to know how to communicate when they are struggling, and to have access to a support system. A willingness to discuss mental health is one of the first steps towards advocating for the destigmatization of mental health-related diagnosis, treatment, or support systems.