I have always associated PTSD with soldiers coming home from war zones and trying to acclimate themselves back into the life they left behind and first responders. There has been several movies that touch on PTSD not really talked about it but if you know the signs you can figure it out.
After losing Big Bubby to such a tragic accident the way we did, I have had several doctors who all state that I have some form of PTSD. When they tell me that, I feel like I am dishonoring the military and first responders who see sooo much more horrible things than what I have been through. Yes, my loss was tragic and I wish every day that it hadn’t happened to me and my family but military and first responders see it every day.
Night terrors, night mares, whatever you want to say they are can rock someones world since there is no going back to a peaceful sleep. Being scared to go anywhere afraid something will trigger a memory that is too hard to relive. Or meeting someone on the street that stops you and wants to talk your ear off when all you want is your cup of coffee and your couch.
This was never a worry of mine, put to the back of my mind especially when Big Bubby came home from Afghanistan and I didn’t know what was transpiring in his home with his wife. He did have some trauma from going over to fight for terrorism. He never told me or his dad about the mental struggle he had. He wouldn’t seek treatment because he said there were others worse off than him and that he could deal with it. A chip off the old mom block right there my friends.
Now, three years in, I know that to some extent, there is a PTSD side to my loss. Not being able to see Big Bubby after the accident before the burial, the nature of the accident itself, and just simply losing a child out of order has shown that PTSD is not just for the military or the first repsonders.
Don’t let this blog go without saying, if you are struggling with PTSD today, please reach out to someone for help. We are many and we are here to be a voice of reason when the memories are too much. No life should be lost to this tragic disease.
So my Baby Sis took off after graduating a couple of weeks ago and has spent a week in Canada and one in Seattle Washington. She is now in Alaska at a camp for Agriculture (Fairbanks, AK to be exact). She has sent pictures and I am beyond laughing at the fact she is having to “rough it” at this camp. She does have running water and a shower. But must use an outhouse (Que mom laughing hysterically when those pictures came in). Oh and by the way, the text this morning was just, we had to take cold showers last night.
So a week or so ago, I had to call upon my middle child to help me out a bit. I stated in my most recent blog to hold on and see what new adventures we would go on. It only took a day or so after writing that blog that adventure found me. If you are not a gory kind of person, you may want to pass on this post…
So when I started this blog , wow, three and a half years ago, I never thought I would have written as much as I have. This has become a hobby for me and it is an outlet when I am feeling pressured or feeling the pain of my loss of Big Bubby.
So I have been in this crazy, horrible club now for three and a half years. I have seen myself go from totally numb from drugs and drinking to feeling every small pain staking step through my grief.
For those who follow me, this is a post about grief, learning to hide it from those you love, and how it impacts every aspect of your life. You may want to pass if you are my family or friends as it is not something for everyone.
Wow today you would be 28 years old. I just can’t believe this is our fourth birthday without you here. The things you must know, have learned by now with Jesus at your side. The people you have met. You now have two cousins with you, please watch out over those babies.
It seems sometimes that those who are around bereaved parents forget is that we didn’t ask to be put here. For some reason, God decided it was time to take our borrowed child back.
Just because our outward appearance seems as if we are put together, our insides would tell a different story if they could talk. Most parents who have buried a child try not to continue to make others uncomfortable by talking about the child lost. Sometimes, we do talk and it puts others in an uncomfortable place. We don’t do this for you to feel sorry for us, say something to us, or get your sympathy. We do this to keep the memory of our child alive. To here their name spoken one more time, to talk about them and the life they had, and to help you understand what a great loss it was to us.