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Sufferer Greetings...lol... control room operator correctional facility

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RandyMac

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Thought I'd better introduce myself before continuing to add to my post count. :)

I am Randy, I turned 62 in July, I was born in Scotia, CA a milltown, I live in a small seaport town on the north coast of California, just shy of the Oregon border. Until May of 2012, I had a twin brother, his death is not part of the PTSD story. He surrendered his life to medication, the old back injury Oxy/Fentanyl trap. Over a 15 year period, I watched the person I grew up with, fade away, becoming a ghost image of what was. I grieved for him many years ago.

I don't like meds. I understood the need for them, however I am making a serious effort to live with as few as possible. So far I have ditched Ativan, Paxil and Doxepin. I cut the Mirtazapine down to 15mg, from 45mg. It wasn't fun. Yes the symptoms are more active, I'm learning how to deal, instead of masking them to the point of feeling dull and stupid. I have too much to do, to go on losing hours every day to meds. The whole thing, as you well know, is to strike a balance.

Onward. My problems stem from my former occupation, I was a control-room operator at a correctional facility for 15 years. Did okay for the first 4-5 years, I became conscious of some work related effects off the job. So, I started stuffing a compartment with a never ending series of nasty events and prided myself that I left it all behind me when the 6th and final steel door slammed behind me. I should have known better, the results were predictable. A kind apathy set in, I could watch mayhem with disinterest, I calmly reported such and moved on. I had a rep for being cool under fire, the fact is, I didn't care. Off the job was different, good old hypervigilance, honed to a fine edge over my lifetime, became relentless, even suffocating. People were converted to threat, non threat or target.

Early Dec 2013, in the dead of night I wigged out, stopping just shy of destroying the control-room and attacking the Sgt with a nice heavy hickory mop handle. Well after the 3rd little episode I 'turned myself in' to the Boss, who with great administrative skill asked if I wanted to resign. Instant flashpoint moment. I was given a ride to Urgent Care to start the process. That was Feb. 4th 2014. The next day I went seeking help, found a nice lady PsyD, who listened to me for 15 minutes, then stopped me and told me I had symptoms of acute PTSD. After an hour she said that in her work as a counselor at Pelican Bay, she saw quite a few cases very similar to mine. She made a phone call and got me an appointment with another PsyD in Eureka, 85 miles of bad road to the south on US 101. I drove my old Ford down there every week for 2 years, then another year of monthly visits, before Workers Comp cut me off.

The pill Doc was a doddering old man, sort of with it and mostly not, there really isn't much choice in this area. The PsyD was good, very good.

This is a long road.
 
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Welcome, glad you found us... And sorry you had to watch your brother and say the long goodbye.
You will find a lot of support here and also find that many of us feel the same way about a lot of things, tho with different circumstances... we are not alone... Hope to see you around...
 
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