PTSD

When my PTSD is Triggered

Katie, a person who lives with PTSD looks into the camera in a grassy area with her brown hair blowing in the wind.

Trigger Warning: Mention of self harm, suicidal thoughts, and rape

A little over a week ago, I found out that the person at the source of my trauma, my ex-boyfriend, now lives in my apartment building. I’d imagined countless ways we might come face to face, but this was a nightmare I never even considered. Here’s what post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is like for me.

What does my PTSD look like?

It looks like me, smiling at people as I walk down the hall. Meanwhile, panic has me by the throat every time I walk into an area where I might run into him. It’s me answering the phone at work while my body buzzes with anxiety. I struggle to stay focused and keep up, feeling like I’m letting my employer down. It’s deep breaths to try to stop the flutter of my heart. It’s choking back tears when memories force their way into my head. It’s me checking the mail on the way in from walking my dog, but constantly surveying my surroundings looking for him and planning escape routes.

What does my PTSD feel like?

Memories play on repeat. Everything reminds me of him or something that happened when I was with him. And everyday I uncover more memories. It’s a low level of anxiety pumping through my heart all the time, though mitigated by medication. It’s feeling like no one understands, but I know there’s no way they could fully understand. They didn’t live this trauma. And PTSD doesn’t always make sense, even to me.

It was only recently that I felt like I had stopped blaming myself for what happened and for not leaving sooner. I struggled with feeling validated, but had reached a point where I felt okay-ish about why I did the things that I did. Now my mind twists words of support into invalidating questions.  Is it vain to think he might not be over me? Do they think I’m overreacting? Am I overreacting? Do I have a right to be inundated with this much fear when there’s not a major physical threat? Am I weak for not being able to control this fear yet? Why didn’t I leave sooner? Was it my fault?

How bad does it get?

Sometimes these questions whisper in my ear and crawl under my skin until every nerve in my body is screaming. I’m overwhelmed by an urge to hurt myself to try to release these feelings. I’m drowning in fear and memories and my mind is telling me that my friends think I’m being overdramatic, even though I know they’re actually supportive. My sense of validation is hanging by a thread. I question whether I can live like this. For the first time in years, I am genuinely afraid of myself and what I might do. And for the first time since my schizoaffective disorder diagnosis, my doctor puts the hospital on the table. Though I choose not to go at this point, I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.

I feel lost, alone, numb. I feel like I should keep my feelings and any encounters with him to myself to protect myself from those invalidating thoughts. It reached a point where I felt like it didn’t even matter if I ran into him and he tried to talk to me because no one would understand. I try to remind myself that they don’t need to understand in order to support me. My mind begins to detach and it feels like it’s all happening in a parallel universe.

What happens when I see him?

The first time I saw him I was crouched down next to Moose looking up at our neighbor when he walked past. My heart stopped, then pounded in my chest. I could feel the panic coursing through my veins. We were behind an island with a coffee machine and, while he didn’t look down and see us, I was scrambling to find an escape route. Part of my mind fumbled to come up with an excuse to leave in a hurry and the other part assessed the logistics. I could go to the elevators, but that’s the direction towards his apartment and he could see us on his way back. We could make a break for the stairs, but we would be in plain sight the whole way there.

At last, I could escape. But back in my apartment I could still feel the panic dripping off of me. The memories were unbearably loud. I’m back there, crying on the bathroom floor, weighing the pros and cons of self harm as a way to cope while he bangs on the door, screaming at me. My knuckles are white as I grip the steering wheel on the way home from work, wondering if today will be the day I find him dead by alcohol or suicide because he stopped responding to my texts. I’m crawling backwards towards the headboard, saying no, pleading to just go to sleep while he grabs the hem of my pajama pants.

What am I afraid of?

When I tell people that I don’t feel like I’m in physical danger, I think they’re often confused. I don’t fear physical danger, but my mental health is in imminent danger. I’m already under a barrage of memories that I can’t seem to stop. But if he tries to talk to me or if situations develop like him getting upset and confronting me, I know that I will relive all the worst moments of that relationship. That happened a few years ago and I will never be ready for that again. I know I’m in a safe place and I know I’m not involved with him anymore, but it can be difficult to hear reason when trauma is deafeningly loud.

So what do you do?

We’ve raised the dosage of one of my medications. I talk with my psychiatrist more frequently. I hate to alter my life because of him, but right now I need to do whatever I have to do to feel safe. That includes avoiding the lobby if I feel particularly on edge. When I see him, I try to find a way to confirm that it’s him without being noticed. I want to be able to recognize him more easily. At this point any tall, broad shouldered man causes a jolt of fear until I realize that it isn’t him. I hope that recognize him more easily will prevent that initial shock every time I see someone with the same build.

I’ve also run through countless versions of what could happen if/when I meet him face to face. I honestly have no idea which will be the one that actually plays out. But mostly I’m trying to figure out how to handle the memories and give myself the sense of validation I need. I refuse to move, so I have no other choice but to tackle this head on. It’s not easy, but at least I have a psychiatrist, friends, and family who support me. They are there if I need to talk, need a distraction, or just need to be in an environment where I feel safe. I do not want my PTSD dictate my life, but it’s going to be a long, rough road to learn how to live with it again. All I can do is take it one baby step at a time.



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2 Comments

  • Marjun

    I totally get why you are triggered. You are daily dealing with a lot. Does your employer know your mental health situation? Your doctor sounds like a good professional. It’s a good idea to write down what you are anxious about. I’m going to try that.

    • Katie

      So sorry for the delayed response! My empoyer already knew about the PTSD, but when this happened, it quickly began affecting my work. I didn’t want everyone to know though. I work at a law firm, so I reached out to one of the partners to ask about restraining orders, adjusting my schedule to accommodate my second psych appointment, and also ways to make me feel safer when I was at the office alone, and they’ve been really supportive! I haven’t told them about any of my other disorders, but if they googled me, I’m sure they found something. And writing things down definitely helps!

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