Yesterday my son ran into a stick he was running with (I've told him not to do so many times but ay 7 year olds are apt to ignore you and think you are talking crazy when you say they could seriously hurt themselves.
I was in the kitchen, heard him scream, ran outside, saw him stumbling and clutching his chest, he didn't look right, I grabbed him and asked what happened, he just kept screaming, I asked again and again until I was yelling, he started falling as I got him inside and then he fainted.
Everything got a bit fuzzy, splotchy, ummm I don't really know how to explain it. I remember lifting his shirt and seeing the round red mark on his chest, his body flopped back on the floor, I grabbed him and I started screaming.
I was back home. I was holding my dead siblings, I was holding one of my surviving brothers after my father ran him over with the car (on purpose) and I was reliving a lot of different memories in what seemed at the time all at once. I kept screaming. I saw my son's face, my partner's face close up to mine, telling me he was fine, he was fine, he was fine, and I saw my son was awake, but I couldn't stop screaming. The memories kept hitting me. I was THERE. Back then. At some point my daughter wrapped her arms around me, but I barely remember it.
I only had fragments of what was actually happening, most of what I saw was back then. I heard nothing although I know my partner said my son was fine. My son apparently asked me why I was screaming, I did not hear that or see him say it, i remember looking at him and his eyes looked confused. At the end of it all, I finally saw that he was awake (which apparently he had been for some time) and still I screamed at my partner to get an ambulance, to get an ambulance, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, my baby, my baby, he's going to die.
And then I cried, sat back away from him and cried and cried and cried. I didn't believe that he was fine. I had seen him die, or rather I had seen my dead sibling's faces and bodies flopped and my father refusing to get medical help. It took a lot of reassurance and my son actually getting up and walking around for me to finally realize that indeed he wasn't in as bad a condition as I'd thought. And then I ended up dissociating the rest of the evening.
I'm so embarrassed. I feel like an absolute loony. I worry for my children that I had such a reaction. My partner says he knew I was having a flashback because of how I was completely out of touch with reality and acting completely over-the-top for the situation. I feel so embarrassed writing this here. I probably am the only crazy mother in the world (haha).
I worry they will grow up scarred because of me having flashbacks. This is the worst one I've had in awhile, I'm more apt to dissociate though which I actually prefer because I'm a bit like a zombie (to other people) when I dissociate (others think I seem distracted) albeit a zombie who can cross an entire town with no recollection of buying a dozen different items I would never use and a zombie who dissociates at different levels so I never know when I'm going to "come to" and be able to know what is going on or just keep functioning without having access to my own brain (blackouts, numbness over half of body or all of body, floating in the sky, seeing myself in third person, being only partially disconnected), as this is just crazy. I had to go apologise to my kids and explain what actually happened. I had to explain to my partner what I had seen. I am so humiliated, my last majour-ptsd-event (as in really bad and humiliating for everyone else to see - no wonder I hate leaving my house!) was a couple of weeks ago at home and before that a couple of years ago a horribly humiliating one which landed me in hospital.
I can't understand how I can get so far with things (been working really hard through exposure therapy) and yet my life is still full of these massive pot-holes I can fall into without even being able to predict when I'm going to fall into one. I don't want my children to have to see me like that.
I seriously considered running away last night. My children deserve a better/saner mother than me. I'm so depressed and don't know how I can keep doing this. I have been fighting it wfor so long, even before I knew it had a name. I feel like I am one of those people who shouldn't even have children. If I had realized I would be like this today, I certainly wouldn't have had children but back when I had my first child I dissociated so much of every day I didn't have much awareness and hadn't been diagnosed yet (hadn't seen a psychiatrist at that point though I really needed to see one). I fight every day to try to keep things under control and try to manage things so if I'm feeling my stress levels building I can escape and let them lower (which isn't always possible when you have young children). I am working hard with dealing with it all, even when I think it's pointless and that I'm going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.
For those of you with children, how do you deal with things? How have you managed to minimize their exposure to the more scary ptsd symptoms?
I was in the kitchen, heard him scream, ran outside, saw him stumbling and clutching his chest, he didn't look right, I grabbed him and asked what happened, he just kept screaming, I asked again and again until I was yelling, he started falling as I got him inside and then he fainted.
Everything got a bit fuzzy, splotchy, ummm I don't really know how to explain it. I remember lifting his shirt and seeing the round red mark on his chest, his body flopped back on the floor, I grabbed him and I started screaming.
I was back home. I was holding my dead siblings, I was holding one of my surviving brothers after my father ran him over with the car (on purpose) and I was reliving a lot of different memories in what seemed at the time all at once. I kept screaming. I saw my son's face, my partner's face close up to mine, telling me he was fine, he was fine, he was fine, and I saw my son was awake, but I couldn't stop screaming. The memories kept hitting me. I was THERE. Back then. At some point my daughter wrapped her arms around me, but I barely remember it.
I only had fragments of what was actually happening, most of what I saw was back then. I heard nothing although I know my partner said my son was fine. My son apparently asked me why I was screaming, I did not hear that or see him say it, i remember looking at him and his eyes looked confused. At the end of it all, I finally saw that he was awake (which apparently he had been for some time) and still I screamed at my partner to get an ambulance, to get an ambulance, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, my baby, my baby, he's going to die.
And then I cried, sat back away from him and cried and cried and cried. I didn't believe that he was fine. I had seen him die, or rather I had seen my dead sibling's faces and bodies flopped and my father refusing to get medical help. It took a lot of reassurance and my son actually getting up and walking around for me to finally realize that indeed he wasn't in as bad a condition as I'd thought. And then I ended up dissociating the rest of the evening.
I'm so embarrassed. I feel like an absolute loony. I worry for my children that I had such a reaction. My partner says he knew I was having a flashback because of how I was completely out of touch with reality and acting completely over-the-top for the situation. I feel so embarrassed writing this here. I probably am the only crazy mother in the world (haha).
I worry they will grow up scarred because of me having flashbacks. This is the worst one I've had in awhile, I'm more apt to dissociate though which I actually prefer because I'm a bit like a zombie (to other people) when I dissociate (others think I seem distracted) albeit a zombie who can cross an entire town with no recollection of buying a dozen different items I would never use and a zombie who dissociates at different levels so I never know when I'm going to "come to" and be able to know what is going on or just keep functioning without having access to my own brain (blackouts, numbness over half of body or all of body, floating in the sky, seeing myself in third person, being only partially disconnected), as this is just crazy. I had to go apologise to my kids and explain what actually happened. I had to explain to my partner what I had seen. I am so humiliated, my last majour-ptsd-event (as in really bad and humiliating for everyone else to see - no wonder I hate leaving my house!) was a couple of weeks ago at home and before that a couple of years ago a horribly humiliating one which landed me in hospital.
I can't understand how I can get so far with things (been working really hard through exposure therapy) and yet my life is still full of these massive pot-holes I can fall into without even being able to predict when I'm going to fall into one. I don't want my children to have to see me like that.
I seriously considered running away last night. My children deserve a better/saner mother than me. I'm so depressed and don't know how I can keep doing this. I have been fighting it wfor so long, even before I knew it had a name. I feel like I am one of those people who shouldn't even have children. If I had realized I would be like this today, I certainly wouldn't have had children but back when I had my first child I dissociated so much of every day I didn't have much awareness and hadn't been diagnosed yet (hadn't seen a psychiatrist at that point though I really needed to see one). I fight every day to try to keep things under control and try to manage things so if I'm feeling my stress levels building I can escape and let them lower (which isn't always possible when you have young children). I am working hard with dealing with it all, even when I think it's pointless and that I'm going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.
For those of you with children, how do you deal with things? How have you managed to minimize their exposure to the more scary ptsd symptoms?