Chincho
Diamond Member
Before I start, I'd like to apologize for my grammar mistakes, as English is not my mother language and I'm not used to writing about myself. Also, I'm sorry this is so long, I know some of us cannot deal with very long posts.
I was diagnosed with PTSD about 4 years ago. I've had my dark and hellish days, suicidal thoughts and all the bad things that come with it. Lately, I was doing much better thanks to therapy and medicine. And then...
In April my husband was diagnosed with a rare type of pneumonia and was hospitalized in another city for a week. I left my two boys, who are 20 and 16, at home and travelled to be with my husband. A week after he was discharged and I returned home to take care of my sons, home, etc.
After two weeks of not getting any better, he got permission from the doctors to come to our city. He was in such bad shape that he was admitted again, needed constant oxygen, and finally a doctor told me that they'd give him a massive amount of steroids to see if they could save him because he didn't have more than 2 days to live in that condition. Thankfully the steroids worked and we were sent to Buenos Aires (we live in Argentina) where the best doctors are. A week after my husband was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung cancer, and they are still doing tests that our health insurance demands to pay for his treatment.
Last week, we returned to our city to wait for the last tests results and my husband found our youngest smoking pot in the garden at midnight. I know some members of this community use it and that's fine with me, but I don't think smoking pot is okay for my ADHD, 16 year old son. Also, it's illegal in Argentina. My husband got so angry that he spent the rest of the night coughing and I thought he might need oxygen again, but thankfully he didn't.
The next morning I took my son to his bedroom where I started asking the typical questions such as "how long have you been smoking?". He is an excellent liar, able to tell the biggest lies with a serious face, so I knew I'd habe to take his story with a grain of salt. He said he'd first tried two weeks ago, and that all the pipes and stuff were given to him so he would start smoking. I don't know the names of the paraphernalia I found, but I don't think a friend or a dealer would give away so many things.
I went through my son's room inch by inch, with him there and his approval, and threw away the things, and flushed the sprinkled amount of pot I found in the bottom of his desk drawer. On Wednesday he's going back to the therapist that has been treating him on and off since he was diagnosed with ADHD at 4 years old. I'm not proud to say I threatened to send him to a clean-up facility if he didn't stop smoking pot and cigarettes. I'd never been through any of my sons' things before, and it was one of the hardest things I had to do.
My eldest son is fine, except for the fact that he cannot express any feelings and I can see how worried he's by his father's condition. He took care of me during the worst of my days, because my husband works on oil ships and was away a lot, and now his father is ill too. He goes to college and is a good student and has a girlfriend of 5 years. Sometimes he seems more adult than me, and I tend to lean on him although I shouln't. Yesterday he left for 10 days in Brazil, where millions of Catholic youth will meet and the Pope will visit.
Through all these, I've managed to "put my PTSD" aside and do what I was supposed to do. That makes everyone around me, including my emotional abusive parents to think I'm cured! My friends keep saying I'm fine, and how well I am. My parents keep throwing the phrases I grew up with, but somehow I manage to ignore them or throw one back, so they are a bit subdued.
Only my therapist and my psychiatrist know that all my symptoms are back, and my psychiatrist said "You are far from cured, and whenever there's a less stressful day, your mind and your body will remind you", and she was so right!
Today I feel so exhausted and anxious, I feel like running away from home. Which, of course, makes me feel guilty and egotistical.
Do you think my wanting to run is a normal reaction or am I just acting like a child?
I was diagnosed with PTSD about 4 years ago. I've had my dark and hellish days, suicidal thoughts and all the bad things that come with it. Lately, I was doing much better thanks to therapy and medicine. And then...
In April my husband was diagnosed with a rare type of pneumonia and was hospitalized in another city for a week. I left my two boys, who are 20 and 16, at home and travelled to be with my husband. A week after he was discharged and I returned home to take care of my sons, home, etc.
After two weeks of not getting any better, he got permission from the doctors to come to our city. He was in such bad shape that he was admitted again, needed constant oxygen, and finally a doctor told me that they'd give him a massive amount of steroids to see if they could save him because he didn't have more than 2 days to live in that condition. Thankfully the steroids worked and we were sent to Buenos Aires (we live in Argentina) where the best doctors are. A week after my husband was diagnosed with a very rare type of lung cancer, and they are still doing tests that our health insurance demands to pay for his treatment.
Last week, we returned to our city to wait for the last tests results and my husband found our youngest smoking pot in the garden at midnight. I know some members of this community use it and that's fine with me, but I don't think smoking pot is okay for my ADHD, 16 year old son. Also, it's illegal in Argentina. My husband got so angry that he spent the rest of the night coughing and I thought he might need oxygen again, but thankfully he didn't.
The next morning I took my son to his bedroom where I started asking the typical questions such as "how long have you been smoking?". He is an excellent liar, able to tell the biggest lies with a serious face, so I knew I'd habe to take his story with a grain of salt. He said he'd first tried two weeks ago, and that all the pipes and stuff were given to him so he would start smoking. I don't know the names of the paraphernalia I found, but I don't think a friend or a dealer would give away so many things.
I went through my son's room inch by inch, with him there and his approval, and threw away the things, and flushed the sprinkled amount of pot I found in the bottom of his desk drawer. On Wednesday he's going back to the therapist that has been treating him on and off since he was diagnosed with ADHD at 4 years old. I'm not proud to say I threatened to send him to a clean-up facility if he didn't stop smoking pot and cigarettes. I'd never been through any of my sons' things before, and it was one of the hardest things I had to do.
My eldest son is fine, except for the fact that he cannot express any feelings and I can see how worried he's by his father's condition. He took care of me during the worst of my days, because my husband works on oil ships and was away a lot, and now his father is ill too. He goes to college and is a good student and has a girlfriend of 5 years. Sometimes he seems more adult than me, and I tend to lean on him although I shouln't. Yesterday he left for 10 days in Brazil, where millions of Catholic youth will meet and the Pope will visit.
Through all these, I've managed to "put my PTSD" aside and do what I was supposed to do. That makes everyone around me, including my emotional abusive parents to think I'm cured! My friends keep saying I'm fine, and how well I am. My parents keep throwing the phrases I grew up with, but somehow I manage to ignore them or throw one back, so they are a bit subdued.
Only my therapist and my psychiatrist know that all my symptoms are back, and my psychiatrist said "You are far from cured, and whenever there's a less stressful day, your mind and your body will remind you", and she was so right!
Today I feel so exhausted and anxious, I feel like running away from home. Which, of course, makes me feel guilty and egotistical.
Do you think my wanting to run is a normal reaction or am I just acting like a child?
