You need to develop the courage to say you need help, as mental
health illness is not something you can treat on your own. My daughter
has been my strength to actively seek treatment and deal with the
symptoms of my PTSD. She was what pushed me to ask for help. I want to
be her mom more than anything and for those affected by PTSD, you know
that it’s very hard to do much of anything when you’re fighting your
way back from the darkest places that are scary to face, desperately
trying to seek healing in the hope and possibility of what lies ahead.
It’s really hard to describe what it’s like to have severe complex-
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) to someone. In the media, there
is a lot of talk about veterans and first responder personnel who
experience and suffer from PTSD, so at least people are beginning a
dialogue about it. But there needs to be more talk around the victims
of crime or violence who, as a result, suffer from the debilitating
injury, PTSD. For me, PTSD is as a result of childhood and adult
emotional, physical and sexual abuse.
In my chosen profession I worked with children. I was trying to cope
with accommodations before I left my career that I loved, but it
wasn’t working. I was having flashbacks, I was sleep deprived and I
was suffering from such severe anxiety that any interaction at work
caused me significant and debilitating stress. I began to isolate
myself at work and in my personal life. While I haven’t worked in
almost three years in my field, I have been working to stay alive everyday.
The only way to really describe my illness to someone who doesn’t
have PTSD is to say this: PTSD has stolen my life from me. There are
experiences I never got to be a part of because the isolation I needed
in order to feel safe made me lose friends and family members who
didn’t understand what I was going through. At a young age I learned
how to use negative coping strategies to numb my feelings, isolate
myself from everyone, try and hide my fear that I was feeling every
minute of every day in the hopes that no one would notice my increased
anxiety and panic attacks. I was having trouble feeling safe on my own
as an adult. Every day I used ineffective coping strategies just to
get to the end of the day. I had never known a life other than this,
so as scary as it was, it was still my life; my normal. It was what I
knew. However, when I became pregnant I could no longer use the
negative coping tools I had relied on for so long. My anxiety became
uncontrollable, my emotions were swinging from happiness to sadness to
all consuming anger and fear. My husband and I chalked this up to
pregnancy hormones. We were wrong. When I delivered my daughter, my
symptoms of PTSD, anxiety and OCD increased exponentially. However,
having my daughter gave me the strength I needed to begin to heal.
Please understand that while it’s me who is being granted this
wonderful gift of a service dog to help me survive and to live daily
life, it’s not only me, but also my family who benefits. My husband
will get some freedom back. He has stepped up in ways that continue to
surprise me almost every day. I have extreme difficulty leaving my
home and because of this, struggle with agoraphobia. Since about the
time my daughter was two, I slowly cut back and eventually cut out all
errands and activities outside of my home. This means that my husband
has taken on the enormous responsibility of taking me to doctor’s
appointments and individually completing all errands - from groceries
to banking to purchasing my daughter’s clothes.
Instead of a profile photo to include with my story, I decided to use
a drawing that my daughter did of me. When she was done this picture,
she said, “This is you, my mommy.” Even in its simplicity, you can see
me through her eyes. That is how I like to see myself. Becoming a wait
list recipient, knowing that I will one day be placed with a service
dog, gives me the HOPE I need in order to get through my days, good
and bad, and to believe that one day I will no longer be weighed down
by the shackles and chains, the effects of PTSD have created.
I want to heal not only for myself, but also my husband so he can get
his wife back and for my daughter, so that I can live each moment with
her in the present and experience everything that will happen in her
life. Her dream is to go to Fantasyland at Disney World one day. I
have cried myself to sleep many nights thinking that my daughter
deserves a better mom who doesn’t have PTSD and can take her
everywhere she wants to go.
I know that a service dog will help me to be around people again, by
going everywhere with me so I can begin to take part in community
activities and go back to work eventually. It will help me during
episodes where I dissociate. It will help reduce stress, will sense my
anxiety and help me prevent panic attacks and flashbacks before they
happen. It will reduce or eliminate my tendency to self-harm and my
hypervigilance when being in public. It will help me with my OCD and
lessen how much I check things in order to feel safe. And, most
importantly, a service dog will allow me to live life with my daughter
doing things like dropping her off at school or taking her shopping or
for a walk in the park.
My daughter has a very basic understanding of my illness. When I told
her that mommy was going to get a dog one day that will help mommy
feel better she got the biggest smile on her face and said, “oh my
gosh, Mommy, that’s so great. That means you’ll be able to come out
places with me.” She put her arms around me and gave me the biggest
bear hug. Seeing her smile because she will be getting her mom back is
my biggest motivator to heal.
I want to genuinely thank you for taking the time to come to this
page, read my story and hopefully donate to K4Paws so that I can begin
to live life again and continue on my journey of healing. I used to
think PTSD made me weak. But I know now that it has actually made me
stronger. Asking for help can be very hard, but I’ve learned that
choosing to live is even harder.
Much love and appreciation,
Paws 4 Mommy
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