Those of us who’ve read about PTSD have probably wondered what that’s like to live with it. Or rather, how does those with it live with PTSD? Or have they wondered if PTSD is even real, despite the studies and evidence. It’s probably almost like those that don’t have a mental illness like depression. They just wonder, “Why can’t you be happy or normal?”
One never thinks they’ll be depressed or even get PTSD. I certainly never did, even with a family history of depression. I was going to therapy before Ted killed himself. In fact, I was going to therapy because he had admitted to being suicidal, and I thought I needed help on a lot of levels.
Well, I’ve been 12 months on Prozac. I honestly never thought I would be taking medication to help with my emotions. I thought going to counseling would be enough. Only, my emotional balance wasn’t stable. When something happened to the kids, when their world was rocked by something, I would take it and drown in it. I would drown in their sorrow, anger, despair, confusion…all of it. I would make it my own, and it was intense. So intense I couldn’t function sometimes.
After we had a suicide scare with A in March 2020, I had to take a good look at not only A but also at myself. The PTSD was triggered by a FB message sent by a dad. I had previously told A that if he didn’t want to take meds, he didn’t have to. Only, this shed some light on some darkness I was denying of myself. During an emergency meeting with the kids’ grief counselor, she mentioned he should think about meds to help him over a hump he didn’t seem to be getting over. He got defensive and angry, especially when I agreed with her. He didn’t hear me say, “I think I need to start taking meds, too…”