Childhood PTSD Strikes At Target
How embarrassing! I was shopping at Target with my daughter and decided I would get a birthday card for my mother. Sounds simple, doesn't it?
But minutes later I was crumbled down on the floor in the aisle with my face buried into the cards choking back tears. My daughter was tenderly stroking my shoulder telling me it was ok.
What happen?
Well, it was a few hours ago and until now I was two physically reeling from the PTSD response to even type out what happened. I had to wait for my body to stop being out of equilibrium and for me to breathe without it hurting.
My mother sent me a birthday card this year that was an antique card and it touched my heart. I really appreciated it. So her birthday is just two days away as I type this. I saw her card she had given me on my counter before I left the house and I thought it might be nice to send her a card this year. I didn't think too deeply about it, that I hadn't spoken to her really in about ten years and that I hadn't sent her a card in about that long of a time.
I thought it might be a nice gesture, not that I wanted to start up a relationship but that I could drop a birthday card in the mail that I know she would appreciate to make her day a little happier.
As I said earlier, sounds simple, doesn't it?
BUT PTSD is not something you plan for or expect. It just happens.
I walked toward the birthday cards for mother's and started to read them. One, two, three, four... "you are the most special person in my life," "we share so much in common," "I appreciate everything blah, blah, blah..." You get the idea.
Suddenly I became frustrated. It was a familiar feeling I had so many years, year after year.
(As I type this my stomach is tightening into a knot pressing up under my ribcage. My head is getting light like blood is rushing from my brain. I have chills on my legs. These and more are all the responses I started to experience in the aisle of the Target store.)
I began mumbling under my breath, none of these will work. Yeah, sure, not that one. Almost mocking the sentiments, as if to say, yeah, I wish or that's a joke. Card after card I quickly rejected all the sentiments that are so normal and appropriate for a child to sent to her mother in a birthday card.
I moved away from the mother birthday cards and thought, I will send a general birthday card. So I started again to pick up a few: one, two, three, etc. and again not one fit. My body was taking over and I turned to my daughter in desperation asking her to help me. Look for something generic, something that doesn't really say anything... and as we were searching I began to shake, my arms became very heavy and I could tell I was about to lose it. I pressed my face into the rack of cards and began to whimper.
None of these will do. Nothing. I can't find a card.
My knees buckled and my head was light; I crumbled to the ground and tears stirred up as my body shook.
My daughter bent toward me ever so lovingly touching my shoulder, speaking words of kindness. And I kept repeating, "I am sorry. I am so sorry." She kept reassuring me that I had nothing to be sorry about. Then she said, "If it hurts this much, you don't need to send one." I needed to hear that!
I turned my thoughts to God and let Him nurture me. He calmed my breathing; I stopped crying. After a few deep breathes, I verbally said, "God help me" as I raised my body to a standing position.
My daughter help me get to the register, unload and load the groceries. She was a trooper and was taking care of me. How sweet. How kind. How loving.
My thoughts were scattered but she helped me get through checking out and stopping to get a little snack before we headed home. On the way home I explain to her what happen. I knew. So many years as a child and even a young adult I was expected (forced) to buy a card for my parents even though it was a lie. Going to the card rack brought all of those memories and feeling back, and they overwhelmed me. That is what PTSD is like. I rushes in like a wave and it seeps from your brain into your cells, tissues, bodily systems without warning.
I remember feeling numb, nauseated, foggy brained. It is like being trapped in a body and mind that does not normally belong to you, but you don't get a choice.
I smile now. I finished writing about it. I got through it.
Sometimes I write for myself; other times I write because I know what I share can help others. My chest is heavy but I take deep cleansing breaths. I know I will sleep heavy tonight; a PTSD episode is so physically/mentally and emotionally straining.
There is more to share but I can't now. This is enough for today.
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| Mother's Card by Menitti on DeviantArt |
But minutes later I was crumbled down on the floor in the aisle with my face buried into the cards choking back tears. My daughter was tenderly stroking my shoulder telling me it was ok.
What happen?
Well, it was a few hours ago and until now I was two physically reeling from the PTSD response to even type out what happened. I had to wait for my body to stop being out of equilibrium and for me to breathe without it hurting.
My mother sent me a birthday card this year that was an antique card and it touched my heart. I really appreciated it. So her birthday is just two days away as I type this. I saw her card she had given me on my counter before I left the house and I thought it might be nice to send her a card this year. I didn't think too deeply about it, that I hadn't spoken to her really in about ten years and that I hadn't sent her a card in about that long of a time.
I thought it might be a nice gesture, not that I wanted to start up a relationship but that I could drop a birthday card in the mail that I know she would appreciate to make her day a little happier.
As I said earlier, sounds simple, doesn't it?
BUT PTSD is not something you plan for or expect. It just happens.
I walked toward the birthday cards for mother's and started to read them. One, two, three, four... "you are the most special person in my life," "we share so much in common," "I appreciate everything blah, blah, blah..." You get the idea.
Suddenly I became frustrated. It was a familiar feeling I had so many years, year after year.
(As I type this my stomach is tightening into a knot pressing up under my ribcage. My head is getting light like blood is rushing from my brain. I have chills on my legs. These and more are all the responses I started to experience in the aisle of the Target store.)
I began mumbling under my breath, none of these will work. Yeah, sure, not that one. Almost mocking the sentiments, as if to say, yeah, I wish or that's a joke. Card after card I quickly rejected all the sentiments that are so normal and appropriate for a child to sent to her mother in a birthday card.
I moved away from the mother birthday cards and thought, I will send a general birthday card. So I started again to pick up a few: one, two, three, etc. and again not one fit. My body was taking over and I turned to my daughter in desperation asking her to help me. Look for something generic, something that doesn't really say anything... and as we were searching I began to shake, my arms became very heavy and I could tell I was about to lose it. I pressed my face into the rack of cards and began to whimper.
None of these will do. Nothing. I can't find a card.
My knees buckled and my head was light; I crumbled to the ground and tears stirred up as my body shook.
My daughter bent toward me ever so lovingly touching my shoulder, speaking words of kindness. And I kept repeating, "I am sorry. I am so sorry." She kept reassuring me that I had nothing to be sorry about. Then she said, "If it hurts this much, you don't need to send one." I needed to hear that!
I turned my thoughts to God and let Him nurture me. He calmed my breathing; I stopped crying. After a few deep breathes, I verbally said, "God help me" as I raised my body to a standing position.
My daughter help me get to the register, unload and load the groceries. She was a trooper and was taking care of me. How sweet. How kind. How loving.
My thoughts were scattered but she helped me get through checking out and stopping to get a little snack before we headed home. On the way home I explain to her what happen. I knew. So many years as a child and even a young adult I was expected (forced) to buy a card for my parents even though it was a lie. Going to the card rack brought all of those memories and feeling back, and they overwhelmed me. That is what PTSD is like. I rushes in like a wave and it seeps from your brain into your cells, tissues, bodily systems without warning.
I remember feeling numb, nauseated, foggy brained. It is like being trapped in a body and mind that does not normally belong to you, but you don't get a choice.
I smile now. I finished writing about it. I got through it.
Sometimes I write for myself; other times I write because I know what I share can help others. My chest is heavy but I take deep cleansing breaths. I know I will sleep heavy tonight; a PTSD episode is so physically/mentally and emotionally straining.
There is more to share but I can't now. This is enough for today.
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