PTSD and the Adult Child: What is Post-Trauma Stress Disorder?

You don’t have to be a soldier of war to experience post-trauma stress disorder.  If you’re reading this, you already suspect that statement to be true.

I referenced post-trauma stress disorder in this post about the urge to flee, running (not running scared, but running anxious) away from our relationships, jobs, friends, homes, children, pets, and stuff.  That kind of running instinct is a form of self-sabotage, a subconscious, knee-jerk urge to recreate the chaos of our childhood environment simply because it’s comfortable–it’s not “good” or “bad” in these scenarios, it’s just simply what we know.

And running scared has everything to do with post-trauma stress disorder.  (As does sitting still, when it’s an anxiety-induced paralysis.)

There are two key ingredients to an environment that is ripe for PTSD:  Unpredictability and Uncontrollability.  Familiar, right?  Those are also key characteristics of the alcoholic household, or any household run by an addict, narcissistic, or otherwise childlike adult.

What does “trauma” mean?  Does what happened to you have to have been really, really bad–do you have to have been beaten or sexually abused to qualify as a traumatized child?  No.  No, absolutely not.  There are lots of different types of abuses. Some are subtle, some are not-so-subtle.

PHYSICAL ABUSE.  If you were pushed, shoved, hit, or beaten by your parents/caregivers, that kind of physical abuse is obviously traumatic.  There is NO EXCUSE for that kind of treatment.  Sure, there are excuses given and you were probably expected to agree with or accept those, but there is NO EXCUSE for physical abuse.  You did nothing wrong, nothing to deserve physical action–no matter what you did.  NOTHING justifies the physical harm or punishment of a child.  Period.

SEXUAL ABUSE.  Sexual abuse counts.  I hope this is as obviously WRONG as the physical violence. This can include a one-time rape, or systematic abuse.  It also includes less direct, less obvious sexual stuff, like seeing a parent fondle themselves or someone else, or a hand that’s been on your knee too long or being given a massage that’s just slightly lower down your back than feels right.

EMOTIONAL and VERBAL ABUSE.  Emotional abuse counts, too.  Where there’s physical abuse, there is usually this kind, too.  If you were  teased, manipulated, threatened, ignored, belittled, or were loved conditionally by your parents/caregivers, that kind of emotional abuse is trauma-causing.  It doesn’t just screw with your self-esteem, it is truly traumatic.  For example, if your parents had chaotic lives but never helped you process what was going on by talking about it and reassuring you of their love and listening to you without judgment, the chaos likely traumatized you.

THREAT OF VIOLENCE.  In households where a parent has anger issues, there is the constant threat of violence, even if unrealized.  In this kind of household you grow up feeling like you probably will be hit when the chaos starts to whirl, you feel incredibly afraid of your parent (usually the father), even if he never actually strikes.

DON’T BELITTLE YOUR PTSD

I spent years telling my anxious self that I had no reason to feel so worried, to just “buck up” and get on with things.  But, you know what?  That’s what my father said to me.  That’s what he wanted his little girl to do–buck up, swallow reality and put on a I’m-OK face.  For him.  That’s not my own voice.

Don’t judge your anxiety.  Don’t lessen the impact of your childhood by telling yourself it “wasn’t that bad” and that your parents did the “best” that they could.  Instead, examine your anxiety–determine if there’s PTSD in there.  Then sort it out.  Right, this probably means more therapy. Then you truly can get on with life, and live it as a person who is patient and compassionate with your self.

Of course your parents will disagree that you were traumatized by their parenting, but the data show otherwise!  The manifestations of your experience tell all.

Here are the key manifestations of PTSD:

• Physical sensations and/or panicked feelings when recalling the event(s)
• Re-experiencing of the event — or, missing memories (the sense of a whited-out childhood)
• Feeling numb, fizzy-brained, and/or feelings of unreality and being detached from your surroundings
• Sleep problems — or, nightmares
• Inflated fight-or-flight response — being constantly cocked, finger on trigger, ready for “war”
• Distracting or overwhelming thoughts, or heavy emotions that don’t correlate to your present life – guilt, anger, shame, helplessness, deep sadness, fear, distraught, empty

I’ve experienced PTSD reactions a few times in my life.  I had no idea what has happening at the time.  All I knew was that I was having an extreme reaction, one that I couldn’t verbalize (whereas usually I’m a good verbal communicator), and that made me feel out of breath, alarmed, scared stiff, and like a prisoner of the situation–trapped.

I was in junior high. I was horsing around outside with my friend Meredith after school.  We took the same bus home, and usually Meredith got off a few stops after me.  On this day, she got off at my stop so that we could hang out.  We were clinging to fallen tree branches and sliding down a hill near the street behind my family’s house.  We were pretending to be in a jungle, I think.  I had completely let go, embodied spontaneity, and was having a lot of fun.  Suddenly, my stepmother drove by on the street and yelled hello.  Oh, shit! was my reaction.  What’s she doing home?  I thought.  Either she was home early, or I’d lost track of time.  Must run!  I was caught off-guard.  I said, “Go home!” to Meredith, and ran with my book bag up the hill, running with all my might, and into the house before my stepmother pulled into the driveway.  What did I do then?  I took a cold shower.  Who knows why. I was a puppet, not an actor of my own actions.  I sprinted into the bathroom, turned on the cold water full-blast, stripped, then got in.  I was crying–hard.  I was crouched down.  Water beat on my back, and I wanted that pain for some reason.  I was like a medieval wretch awaiting flogging.

My stepmother knocked, wondering what was wrong, what was going on.  “Amy?!” She wasn’t accusing me.  She wasn’t angry.  She was confused.  One minute I was horsing around outside, the next I was in the house–showering.  Not usual.  She opened the door, and stood in the bathroom.  “What’s going on, Amy?”  She could hear that I was crying.  I don’t know. I wanted her to help me.  I wanted her to leave me alone.  Save me from my hell.  Ignore my hell. Those were my conflicted thoughts.  My feelings were extreme shame and terror.  “Did something happen out there, Amy? Are you OK?”  Of course to her it appeared that my sudden shower and sobbing was related to whatever happened with my friend Meredith.  But it had to do with what “getting caught unprepared” had triggered in me.  I was scared beyond belief to have been caught doing something that wasn’t what I “should have” been doing (homework).  I got triggered.  Even though I wasn’t doing something against the rules, dangerous, or illegal.

I pulled myself together before dinner, and that was that.  But I remembered this event 20 years later when I had another PTSD reaction when a boyfriend of mine had badly bruised his entire forearm while drinking (he was meeting my parents the next day) and I was feeling “caught” again–caught with a boyfriend seemingly out of control.  And then another PTSD incident happened, and then another.  Finally, I caught on.  I gave it some thought, and I realized that, actually, I’d had many low-grade and high-grade PTSD events in my life.  And, possibly, that I’ve lived my life in a low-grade PTSD state my whole life.

Now, I don’t know what the original traumatic event (or series of events) was in my childhood that would have caused that must-suffer-in-a-cold-shower reaction.  But I know something, or a series of somethings, happened. My guess is that I was unfairly yelled at and accused of things that I didn’t do on various occasions throughout my childhood when what I appeared to be doing wasn’t what my father (the alcoholic) wanted me to be doing in order to reflect a normal and together family.

It’s possible that you won’t be able to remember or pinpoint the event(s) that created your PTSD, either.  Or, maybe you do remember them, or you remember enough to piece the puzzle together.  Let either case be OK.

Research on brain development shows that children’s brains ‘cover up’ trauma.  Our brains don’t store most traumatic memories in our heads. But the shadow effects are there in our hearts and minds, most certainly.

-ae