Caregivers Can Experience PTSD
For a long time I thought Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD) only happened to individuals who served in the military. I never suspected I suffered from it too.
I knew soldiers returned haunted by combat and that triggers were real. My grandfather suffered from this mental health condition. But I am not a vet. I am a journalist who doesn’t file from a war zone. I am a mother and writer who's curious about everything — the environment, politics, humanity, health — you name it and I have a question about it.
I am driven to seek out the truth, and that’s exactly what I did when my son became ill with a severe mental illness. In my relentless quest to find my son the treatment he rightfully deserved, I discovered a busted and broken mental health care system. I also ended up stuck in fight or flight mode, and my own mental health went sideways.
For two years, from his first call for help 900 miles away to his last outpatient hospital visit my internal stress clock never reset. My cortisol levels just kept rising until they forgot how to stabilize. I understood none of this at the time. I was too busy saving my son.
Like a soldier, I anticipated danger around every corner. It was nothing compared to a terrifying IED roadside bomb explosion, but my brain still managed to create its own destructive triggers.
Mine were caused watching helplessly as the mental health care system continuously discharged my son untreated. No matter how hard I fought to get him help, my efforts were rebuffed. The system shut me down, and my son shut me out as his psychosis raged.
My world turned into chaos. My son’s pain became mine. When he ended up on the streets of San Francisco, a war raged within me. My frustration was rapid. I barely ate or slept as my son’s life slid further into the abyss. I left my job. I put everything in my life on the backburner. I searched for him endlessly.
Then eighteen months into this ordeal he had a brief moment of clarity and called wanting to come home. Like a clandestine ops mission, my husband and I swooped in at 2 a.m. and pulled our son out of the city’s hell hole.
Throughout this time, my own health began to crack. My concentration fogged. I struggled with my craft as an editor. Deadlines became a challenge, which added to my stress. I had no idea what was going on. Then one day at work I thought I was having a heart attack. It turned out my heart was okay. My brain was the problem. Panic attacks entered my life.
They came out of nowhere. I’d take deep breaths, gulp down water. Nothing stopped them. One time while shopping at Bed, Bath & Beyond, a panic attack struck so deep, it took me to my knees. I ended up kneeling in the drapery section hoping no one saw me as I worked to push through it.
The triggers became apparent. If I heard someone yell or scream, my adrenaline shot through the roof and my hands shook. Flashback episodes of my son screaming at invisible voices: “Shut the f--k up, leave me the f--k alone,” pulled my brain back into those moments.
Loud noises triggered extreme anxiety. I had to change the ringtone on my phone. All of it was associated with the worst periods of my son’s illness.
I never went to the doctor about it. Then one day I read an article in Forbes “Can Caregiving Cause PTSD?” and everything made sense. I suspected it for a long time yet questioned the possibility since I wasn’t a soldier. I hadn’t gone through a horrific personal experience in the pure sense.
And yet, I had. I almost lost my son. I lived on the edge for two years, and even though he is now in recovery and managing this brain disorder, my life has been forever altered, as has his.
So yes, caregivers of any ilk can suffer from PTSD. The key is to identify it and find ways to live with it.
I manage it now using several tools.
Each morning I wake up and meditate for 15 minutes. It’s what frames my day. During that time I am all about positive energy and being aligned with the universe. It might sound silly, but it works for me.
I take daily walks to connect with nature. I surround myself with music. I look for joy and the good in the world. I admit that’s tough at times, but I am better now and the triggers have subsided.
My life is simpler. I have gratitude. My family is intact and that’s all I need to make it through the day.
