I've been popping in, so figured I may as well introduce myself.:cool:
I'm Tim, I've been suffering with PTSD since 2012 although I was not diagnosed until over a year afterwards when I finally couldn't take it anymore and thought I was losing my mind, and a relative told me that I had symptoms of PTSD.
Since then, my symptoms haven't improved. But my ability to cope with them has. I spent so much time and energy trying to fight and deny what I was going through, I finally reached a point where I accepted it. I realized that I will be carrying this weight for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean that I cannot make the most of it.
Now I don't take good times and good things for granted anymore, because they are rare treasures to me.
My Story.It is graphic, so avoid if that is a trigger for you.
I used to live in Florida, I was in a long distance relationship with my girlfriend who lived in NYC. She came on vacation for a three day weekend to visit me. My neighbor and relative through marriage, Liza, wanted to take my girlfriend and I to her favorite beach in FL, which was about a 2 hour drive away.
Long story short while on the high way my friend swerved to avoid a large chunk of truck tire that was in the ground. She lost control and the car rolled at 70MPH, the speed limit in most FL highways. Somewhere in rolling over I said a prayer, fully expecting to die, and then I was knocked unconscious.
No one knows how much time lapsed, but I woke up. The experience was much like the first few minutes of the show "Lost". Everything seemed so peaceful, I recall asking Liza "Why aren't you driving? We're on the highway."
Then when I lifted my arm broken glass trickled down my shoulder, and then I looked at my hands and I was covered in blood. Liza was slumped over, not moving, the roof was crushed in and all the windows were completely broken.
I heard my girlfriend crying. I was sitting in the back seat, so I looked over the passenger's seat and saw her, somehow her legs were on the dashboard and her hand was ripped open.
That is when I realized that flames and smoke were shooting out of the hood of the car.
The car was a 2-door, so there were no doors in the back seat and the windows were too small to fit out of.
I didn't want to crawl over my girlfriend or Lizza and make their injuries worse. I squeezed between the crushed roof and the back seat to get out of the car. I was barefoot, my sandals had fallen off in the accident. I walked on broken car parts and glass to the passenger's side. I told Christine to get out of the car, she couldn't move her legs because they were bruised/cut and in so much pain. I told her "The car is on fire, you have to get out."
Then I called a man over to help me lift her out, after we lifted her out I walked her away from the car.
Then I ran to the drivers side door and began pulling on the door while screaming Liza's name. Smoke from the burning car was making it hard to breath. I don't remember seeing her face. Only her long hair. The same man that helped me pull Christine out yelled at me and slid his hand across his throat to signal that she was dead.
So I began to walk, still barefoot, back to Christine. I took two steps, and this is very disturbing so you may want to skip ir, but my friend's brain was on the floor and I almost stepped on it.
I froze in complete terror, forced myself to look away and get back to Christine, I told her not to look at the burning car because I didn't want her to see the gore or the burning silhouette. I thought Christine and I were going to die, because I assumed I had to be injured because of all the blood that covered me, so I told her to pray with me, and we prayed. I then touched my head and realized it was swollen like a water melon. For a year I dealt with Post Concussion Syndrome, and I mistook some of the PTSD for Post Concussion Syndrome, which is part of the reason why I went so long without being diagnosed.
We stood there and it seemed like forever before the ambulance came. I cannot describe the horrible feeling it was to look at the car burning along with a close friend's corpse.
Just a few minutes ago we were together, headed to the beach having a heartfelt conversation, she had just told Christine and I about how she beat cancer a few years earlier. I recall her saying "Tomorrow isn't guaranteed to anyone, so always make sure you are right with God".
So many times I look back and wonder "Why couldn't I have just died that day?", because in so many ways the person that I was before that accident truly did die.
The first week, everyone I know was so supportive.
But their lives all moved on, and that is reasonable. But I never moved on. I still see Liza in my dreams, I am still trying to escape from that car in my dreams, I still feel like Christine can pass away at any second.
I kept it all to myself for so long, I kept thinking that time will heal me and the memories will fade. Kind of like when you experience a bad break up, it is hell at first but then it stops bothering you.
Well, three years, and it hasn't stopped. I've become okay with that. This is my life now, I will make the best of it. I try to count my blessings. Christine is alive and despite losing some function of one of her hands she is ok.
She doesn't have PTSD. I am thankful for that.
Sorry there isn't a perfectly happy ending, but as you know, that is PTSD. It is more of a "Million Dollar Baby" ending. lol:tup:
I'm Tim, I've been suffering with PTSD since 2012 although I was not diagnosed until over a year afterwards when I finally couldn't take it anymore and thought I was losing my mind, and a relative told me that I had symptoms of PTSD.
Since then, my symptoms haven't improved. But my ability to cope with them has. I spent so much time and energy trying to fight and deny what I was going through, I finally reached a point where I accepted it. I realized that I will be carrying this weight for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean that I cannot make the most of it.
Now I don't take good times and good things for granted anymore, because they are rare treasures to me.
My Story.It is graphic, so avoid if that is a trigger for you.
I used to live in Florida, I was in a long distance relationship with my girlfriend who lived in NYC. She came on vacation for a three day weekend to visit me. My neighbor and relative through marriage, Liza, wanted to take my girlfriend and I to her favorite beach in FL, which was about a 2 hour drive away.
Long story short while on the high way my friend swerved to avoid a large chunk of truck tire that was in the ground. She lost control and the car rolled at 70MPH, the speed limit in most FL highways. Somewhere in rolling over I said a prayer, fully expecting to die, and then I was knocked unconscious.
No one knows how much time lapsed, but I woke up. The experience was much like the first few minutes of the show "Lost". Everything seemed so peaceful, I recall asking Liza "Why aren't you driving? We're on the highway."
Then when I lifted my arm broken glass trickled down my shoulder, and then I looked at my hands and I was covered in blood. Liza was slumped over, not moving, the roof was crushed in and all the windows were completely broken.
I heard my girlfriend crying. I was sitting in the back seat, so I looked over the passenger's seat and saw her, somehow her legs were on the dashboard and her hand was ripped open.
That is when I realized that flames and smoke were shooting out of the hood of the car.
The car was a 2-door, so there were no doors in the back seat and the windows were too small to fit out of.
I didn't want to crawl over my girlfriend or Lizza and make their injuries worse. I squeezed between the crushed roof and the back seat to get out of the car. I was barefoot, my sandals had fallen off in the accident. I walked on broken car parts and glass to the passenger's side. I told Christine to get out of the car, she couldn't move her legs because they were bruised/cut and in so much pain. I told her "The car is on fire, you have to get out."
Then I called a man over to help me lift her out, after we lifted her out I walked her away from the car.
Then I ran to the drivers side door and began pulling on the door while screaming Liza's name. Smoke from the burning car was making it hard to breath. I don't remember seeing her face. Only her long hair. The same man that helped me pull Christine out yelled at me and slid his hand across his throat to signal that she was dead.
So I began to walk, still barefoot, back to Christine. I took two steps, and this is very disturbing so you may want to skip ir, but my friend's brain was on the floor and I almost stepped on it.
I froze in complete terror, forced myself to look away and get back to Christine, I told her not to look at the burning car because I didn't want her to see the gore or the burning silhouette. I thought Christine and I were going to die, because I assumed I had to be injured because of all the blood that covered me, so I told her to pray with me, and we prayed. I then touched my head and realized it was swollen like a water melon. For a year I dealt with Post Concussion Syndrome, and I mistook some of the PTSD for Post Concussion Syndrome, which is part of the reason why I went so long without being diagnosed.
We stood there and it seemed like forever before the ambulance came. I cannot describe the horrible feeling it was to look at the car burning along with a close friend's corpse.
Just a few minutes ago we were together, headed to the beach having a heartfelt conversation, she had just told Christine and I about how she beat cancer a few years earlier. I recall her saying "Tomorrow isn't guaranteed to anyone, so always make sure you are right with God".
So many times I look back and wonder "Why couldn't I have just died that day?", because in so many ways the person that I was before that accident truly did die.
The first week, everyone I know was so supportive.
But their lives all moved on, and that is reasonable. But I never moved on. I still see Liza in my dreams, I am still trying to escape from that car in my dreams, I still feel like Christine can pass away at any second.
I kept it all to myself for so long, I kept thinking that time will heal me and the memories will fade. Kind of like when you experience a bad break up, it is hell at first but then it stops bothering you.
Well, three years, and it hasn't stopped. I've become okay with that. This is my life now, I will make the best of it. I try to count my blessings. Christine is alive and despite losing some function of one of her hands she is ok.
She doesn't have PTSD. I am thankful for that.
Sorry there isn't a perfectly happy ending, but as you know, that is PTSD. It is more of a "Million Dollar Baby" ending. lol:tup:
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