Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Peggy Ann Doak

September 13, 2007

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

PeggyAnn Doak

      What defines it? I have written a few stories of my childhood, not to illicit sympathy nor to attract 'fix it people'. But to show instances or examples of the origin.   I write about ptsd it because it is one of the most subliminal, powerful dis  eases we can have.  It erodes our sense of self, our connection with one another.  We learn that we cannot learn.  We believe we cannot do what makes us happy and infact don't deserve happiness.  We avoid any situation unconsciously that reminds us of our injuries, and often we act out the very abuses that were done to us, or the atrocities we have witnessed or been a part of without choice.

    I was fortunate to live near a VA hospital in Florence, MA.  where one of the first intensive care units for PTSD was initiated.  I had several friends who were veterans of Viet Nam, who I had met when they came to western Massachusetts for help.  Several things I learned about what they went through in just receiving help, or even getting to where they would accept it. 

    Denial.  Nothing wrong with me.  You guys who think you are so hurt by the war.  Wimps.  You just don't wanna work for a living.  Can't take a little blood.  Just a war.  We fought them for centuries.  Be a Man.

    One friend of mine who became active in educating and helping veterans like himself, Doug Andrews, was a medic in Nam.  Now Doug is one big strapping man with a voice that has a deep sexy timbre.  He strikes noone as someone who is a whimp.  Just the opposite.  In fact, he would tell you himself that he didn't believe in PTSD.   Not until the morning he woke up and there was four inches of blood on his floor.  The disorder had manifested.  Sometimes it takes up to twenty years before exterior evidence comes to light.  Or with women from war zones in their childhood, memories begin.   Perhaps that is to protect us when we are vulnerable only to show up later when we are strong enough to seek help.

     Doug sought help.  He also wrote a book of poetry about Nam.  His experiences there. When he shared these with other vets who were in the throes of recovery they would weep.  Someone had put to words what they could not even understand.  He helped them to understand.  And he helped to lift the shame that had isolated these men.  Allowed them to talk about their dirty little secrets.

    Interestingly enough, the women in surrounding communities seemed to be having similar experiences.  I am sure it was happening every where, but we were fortunate to have the Veterans of Viet Nam help us to understand.  Also don't forget the women in Nam.  It took longer for them to recieve help because they were 'not in active battle'.   No, they only took care of the men, some who didn't even resemble humans anymore, and many times had to make the choice of whether or not to help this person out of their misery.  Also, the battles came to them.  They didn't even have to move.  I have read some incredible stories from nurses and doctors...women....who after going into treatment, could talk about what they had experienced and what they had done.  No one and I mean no one could walk out of that, come back to the USA, and whistle Dixie, without being mad as a hatter.

     Post Traumatic Stress Disorder happens whenever a person is under prolonged, intense stress of a nature that makes no connection to what is deemed 'real'.   This person is usually on the fault line, standing directly where any moment death could happen.  They tend to be isolated from any form of sanity or true protection, and often are reduced to use methods against their own code of ethics, in order to survive or to help other's to survive.  Children in abusive homes where there is no intervention, no safety, no comparison to sanity because abuse only works with in secret and isolation.

    I remember saying, when I first went into treatment.  "I can't tell you cause they will know"   The therapist would say, "Who are they" and I would respond, "Them."  

   Them didn't exist.  Them were the fabrication of the abuser as 'those who don't care about you like I do.  Them, would kill me if they knew.  They didn't have an identity and actually, 'them' was never even said.  It was implicated that those out there were more dangerous than whatever happened in here.

     Now if 'they' knew, 'it' would happen.  What is it.  Don't know.  It, dammit.  It.  Bad.  It.  I don't know I don't know.

     All I knew is that I had to live my life as though I saw no Evil, heard no Evil, spoke no Evil.  I had to pretend that the horrific happenings in my home were not happening.  I had been brain washed into accepting the unacceptable.  For years.  The active part of my stay within the boundaries of hell was eight years.  I went on to create my own hell for another ten.  Why?  I was protecting myself.  If I was with the enemy I wouldn't be caught by surprise.  If I chose to sleep with a rapist, then I made the choice.  I was not a victim.  And so on....

    I don't want to go into specifics right now.  Because I don't want this to be misunderstood as being another....purging.  I purged years ago.  (Except about my flipping land lord and how that plays in to a reoccurrence of ptsd in my life, sparking memories). 

     I simply want to put it out there, bare bones.  The causes can be being under warfare over extended and intensely stressful situations, huge losses compounded, rape...esp. more than once., incest, verbal abuse (don't ever underestimate what systematic verbal abuse can do to a child. Watch the movie… What the Bleep do We Know....)  Am I making myself clear?  Someone could say to me, 'My life was wonderful when I was growing up" then an added, "my parents did the best they could."  AHAH.  Minimizing the truth.  Has to be done while the trauma is happening, in order for us to survive.  But it's the aftermath, the continual break down of our inner resources leading to a most dreaded sense of self hatred, an erosion of the very life we depend upon.  Our selves.

Peggy Ann Doak

pdoak333@peoplepc.com