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Dignity lost, 2018, acrylic, oil, oil stick, and silk on bonded linen-cotton, 109.5 x 150 x 9cm approx.
When I was diagnosed with complex-PTSD in 2021, I had never heard of the condition.
Sure, I had heard of PTSD – that was what returned servicepeople got from working in war zones. Everyone knows about that. There are mainstream films made about PTSD. It even has a former name – ‘shell shock’.
In 2021, my only real-life experience of regular PTSD was through an interstate friend who had been diagnosed with PTSD due to a toxic working relationship. Unfortunately for my friend and her family, this quite quickly devolved into severe depression, requiring years of hospitalisation. So my own diagnosis was a surprise, a massive concern, and a gift – in the form of a big piece of the puzzle that had been part of the mystery of my entire life.
A person may develop complex-PTSD when they have been exposed to traumatic event after traumatic event, sometimes over years – however, not everyone in this position will develop complex-PTSD. The person must have a pre-disposition. In my case, the trauma had been racked up over five decades.
Blue Knot Foundation, the national initiative for complex trauma, describes it like this:
"Complex trauma is repeated, ongoing, and often extreme interpersonal trauma (between people) - violence, abuse, neglect or exploitation experienced as a child, young person or adult".
I was well and truly cooked by the time I received my diagnosis of complex trauma. I say ‘cooked’, because it is not possible to ever fully recover from complex-PTSD. Complex-PTSD is a lifelong condition, and in Australia, can be classed as a psychosocial disability, for which suffers can be eligible for NDIS support. In my case, due to this disability, I am currently not fit to work in a traditional sense, and will probably never be. I am a very vulnerable and very unwell person.
What is it like to have complex-PTSD? The simplest way I can describe it, is that I am very easily upset. There are a lot of reasons for the propensity to upset, but the primary reason for this is the desire to achieve safety. My brain is now permanently wired to be on the lookout for threat – real threat, not imagined.
There is a common misunderstanding that the majority of people have - it’s not “all in my head”, I can’t “just get over it”, and the threat isn’t “gone”. Why?
Well, unfortunately, as a single, older, female-born, gender-diverse, formerly homeless, unemployed, mentally and physically unwell person with multiple disabilities, real threat is everywhere – all the time. My brain and I are completely exhausted – all the time. I am constantly on the verge of overwhelm, or stuck in the zone of experiencing it - all the time. I also spend a lot of the day just sleeping, or dealing with my multiple health problems.
I was gaslit once yesterday, and multiple times by multiple people the day before. I was in hospital two weeks ago. I have to go again early next year. This week I had five medical appointments, two of which were with specialist doctors. And I have to deal with all of this by myself, because I’m single.
Most people don’t get it, even if I explain it to them, which is probably because my experience is beyond their ability to comprehend. So on top of everything else, I get victim-blamed, which usually takes the form of gaslighting. Victim-blaming is sadly extremely common in people who have disabilities and/or chronic health problems.
I was diagnosed with complex-PTSD by a female GP in a women’s clinic, when I sat in her room and was jumping at small noises. We got talking. The 15-minute appointment became a 30-minute appointment. She asked me questions. She made the diagnosis. She said, “We see it all the time here”. She told me what I had to do to improve my health and urged me to take immediate action. I followed her instructions – she was very convincing. And looking back, she was one hundred percent right about everything. Everything.
In a way, this GP saved my life. And because I have two adult children that I want to be there for, now and into the future, I will be forever grateful to her.
Her diagnosis explained so many former mysteries:
Q. Why did I jump at small noises, or startle easily (both usually accompanied by a yell)?
A. My brain had been permanently rewired to react to auditory threat (which must always be treated as real, because real threats are indistinguishable from hollow threats until they are carried out).
Q. Why had my family been concerned that I had become deaf?
A. My brain was full of the mental buzz of complex-PTSD.
Q. Why was I so easily upset?
A. My complex-PTSD had been triggered.
Q. Why did I check that all the doors and windows were locked before we went out?
A. I was protecting us from the threat of intruder invasion (but it is also common sense).
What has stunned me in the three years since my diagnosis, is learning about the occurrence of PTSD and complex-PTSD in the Australian population (hard to gauge, but approximately 1 in 20 people for complex-PTSD) and the lack of support for these conditions. Blue Knot Foundation has online resources, yet there are no peer trauma support groups I can attend in Meanjin/Brisbane. I am gobsmacked – and feel very sorry for anyone else who is living with this condition. Having a mental disorder that has no cure, for me, is soul-destroying, depressing, and alienating.
Hopefully, this has helped you understand a bit more about PTSD and complex-PTSD. If a co-worker has either of these conditions, perhaps you will be able to become an ally and support them in some way. They might need more physical space, a quieter working environment, advance notice of changes, and have a stronger need to be included in decision-making than other workers. This will be because of their need to achieve safety, and their brain’s all-encompassing desire to minimise threat.
Until next time,
Gen
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