Once upon a time there was a little 12 year old girl who hated toast more than anything. One November evening she realized that her breakfast options for the next morning were kind of limited, so she begged her Dad to take her to the store so that they could buy some bagels. He agreed, seeing that he hated toast too, so they bought the bagels and drove straight home. While her Dad was collecting all of the groceries, the girl ran to the back door and squatted down so she could greet her puppy through the glass. Suddenly she heard a rustling noise from the car. Did her father drop the groceries? She couldn’t see past the fence that separated the driveway from the backyard, but something told her to stay put.
“Just take the money and go!” This was followed by a sharp cracking noise and more words, words she had never heard before. For a moment the girl foolishly wondered if her Dad was a secret agent or something. But then she realized that this was real life, her dad was just a toast-hating office worker, and whatever was happening was really, really bad. She remained crouched over, just trying to process what was happening when a stranger ran through the gate. She didn’t even look at his face, only the gun. She immediately curled up, hands instinctively guarding the back of her exposed neck. “Stay down. Shut up or I’ll kill you,” a male voice said. “I’ll shoot her too,” he added as her puppy went crazy. I never told him that the dog was female, the girl thought. He must have looked at her down there. Only weird, bad guys would look down there. The sudden realization that this man was a real-life bad guy made her begin to shake. But she couldn’t make any noise or he would kill her. She wanted to make her puppy be quiet too so she would be safe, but that was impossible to do without moving or making noise. She stared at the man’s running shoes, her mind not entirely caught up with the present. He fumbled with the keys, then ran around to the side of the house and then returned. This time, he wasn’t close enough for the girl to see his shoes. Was it her father or the bad guy? She began to tremble violently, and tried to stop because he might kill her, but she couldn’t.
Her dad yelled that the rest of her family was calling the police and a few moments later the man ran away from her, down the driveway. Her Dad appeared with blood covering his forehead, and the little girl broke her silence, screaming for someone, anyone, to call 911. They go inside, the rest of her family upstairs unaware of what had just happened. Someone calls the police and soon her house is filled with strangers. The police ask her some questions about what happened as she tries to understand it herself. The package of bagels is still lying in the driveway, so she puts them in the freezer since nobody else cares. Her dad goes to the hospital to get stitches. She sleeps with her dog that night. The news covers the story on the next evening’s show. She tries to tell one of her friends what happened, showing her a newspaper clipping. Her friend doesn’t think that it is a very funny joke. She doesn't tell any of her other friends.
Nobody brings it up for several years. The girl dismisses it herself, at first. But about a year afterwards she realizes that she was almost killed. Three years later her mom references “the incident” when the girls is working on a safety project with her friends. She says that they could use the girl’s “incident” as an example to stay aware of their surroundings. The girl immediately changes the subject. She doesn't want to admit that it was her fault. The high school girl is very quiet at school. She jumps whenever the teacher speaks unexpectedly and all her friends laugh about it. She joins in. But she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to lose focus, be so shy, self-conscious, irritable and jumpy anymore.
That high school girl is me.
I have suspected that I have PTSD for the past year or so. My mom is taking me to the doctor next week to increase my dosage of ADHD medication (which I think I was misdiagnosed for). Should I tell my doctor about my suspicions, or try to fix it myself? I don’t want to look like I’m seeking attention or being oversensitive/weak/selfish. Am I just overreacting? Sorry I included the whole story, just wanted to acknowledge it. Thanks for reading this all the way through! God bless.
“Just take the money and go!” This was followed by a sharp cracking noise and more words, words she had never heard before. For a moment the girl foolishly wondered if her Dad was a secret agent or something. But then she realized that this was real life, her dad was just a toast-hating office worker, and whatever was happening was really, really bad. She remained crouched over, just trying to process what was happening when a stranger ran through the gate. She didn’t even look at his face, only the gun. She immediately curled up, hands instinctively guarding the back of her exposed neck. “Stay down. Shut up or I’ll kill you,” a male voice said. “I’ll shoot her too,” he added as her puppy went crazy. I never told him that the dog was female, the girl thought. He must have looked at her down there. Only weird, bad guys would look down there. The sudden realization that this man was a real-life bad guy made her begin to shake. But she couldn’t make any noise or he would kill her. She wanted to make her puppy be quiet too so she would be safe, but that was impossible to do without moving or making noise. She stared at the man’s running shoes, her mind not entirely caught up with the present. He fumbled with the keys, then ran around to the side of the house and then returned. This time, he wasn’t close enough for the girl to see his shoes. Was it her father or the bad guy? She began to tremble violently, and tried to stop because he might kill her, but she couldn’t.
Her dad yelled that the rest of her family was calling the police and a few moments later the man ran away from her, down the driveway. Her Dad appeared with blood covering his forehead, and the little girl broke her silence, screaming for someone, anyone, to call 911. They go inside, the rest of her family upstairs unaware of what had just happened. Someone calls the police and soon her house is filled with strangers. The police ask her some questions about what happened as she tries to understand it herself. The package of bagels is still lying in the driveway, so she puts them in the freezer since nobody else cares. Her dad goes to the hospital to get stitches. She sleeps with her dog that night. The news covers the story on the next evening’s show. She tries to tell one of her friends what happened, showing her a newspaper clipping. Her friend doesn’t think that it is a very funny joke. She doesn't tell any of her other friends.
Nobody brings it up for several years. The girl dismisses it herself, at first. But about a year afterwards she realizes that she was almost killed. Three years later her mom references “the incident” when the girls is working on a safety project with her friends. She says that they could use the girl’s “incident” as an example to stay aware of their surroundings. The girl immediately changes the subject. She doesn't want to admit that it was her fault. The high school girl is very quiet at school. She jumps whenever the teacher speaks unexpectedly and all her friends laugh about it. She joins in. But she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to lose focus, be so shy, self-conscious, irritable and jumpy anymore.
That high school girl is me.
I have suspected that I have PTSD for the past year or so. My mom is taking me to the doctor next week to increase my dosage of ADHD medication (which I think I was misdiagnosed for). Should I tell my doctor about my suspicions, or try to fix it myself? I don’t want to look like I’m seeking attention or being oversensitive/weak/selfish. Am I just overreacting? Sorry I included the whole story, just wanted to acknowledge it. Thanks for reading this all the way through! God bless.
