Trauma Surviving
At first I didn’t have the words to call what was happening “PTSD.”
My body and mind were out of sync before I could label it.
Night would hit and I’d wake up shaking, sweating, muscles tight like I’d just ran a sprint.
I’d gasp for air like there was something in my throat and on my chest.
Even a siren or a grocery‑store alarm made my heart thud fast. I felt on‑edge all the time.
It may have seemed a little dramatic to others, but to me it was a real terror that never gave me a break.
Looking for Help: Hopping Between Doctors
After months I ended up in six different doctors’ offices.
The waiting rooms felt endless, the paperwork repeated, and I kept trying to explain “the shaking and stuttering.”
Some doctors handed me a certificate that sounded official but did little; some gave pills that barely helped.
There were also offers of “standard talk therapy” that felt too flat for what I was living through.
Then I met a specialist who also served in war. He seemed to get it better than anyone else.
Our talks turned from sterile exams into real teamwork.
That meeting sparked an idea: I wrote a short guide called Trauma Surviving: Tips for Short‑Term Survivors and sold it cheap, hoping anybody could grab a copy.
It felt weird…part sadness for all the pain out there, part relief knowing my words might help a little.
Money Gets Real: $30 000 and Counting
Healing isn’t cheap.
In the first year I shelled out roughly $30 000.
That covered weekly therapy, a mix of meds, and a treatment called EMDR.
Each bill hit me like another reminder I was still fighting for safety.
Sometimes it felt like “throwing money at a broken TV hoping it will work,” yet some of the moments when the anxiety lessened made the cost feel worth it.
EMDR Explained (And My Own Skepticism)
EMDR – Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing – uses two‑handed motion or dots moving side‑to‑side while I watch.
The idea is it helps the brain move scary memories from the “always on high alert” spot to a calmer area.
My first reaction was, “How can watching a hand move fix this?”
The early sessions felt intense, more than I expected. I was often left with horrible migraines.
EMDR didn’t wipe memories out; it simply changed how my body reacted when they came back.
Now I can think of the worst moments without the full body‑shaking panic that used to flood me.
Night flashes happen less often (that also came with time though), and I can sit with the memory a bit more “peacefully”.
The therapist and I stretched session times to three or four hours once a week, a marathon that left me feeling like I’d run a race then been hit by a bus.
Still each long session added a brick to the shitty path of getting better.
Living With Severe Acute PTSD
I’m not cured…that would be a lie.
The ghost of PTSD still visits.
Night terror still shows up sometimes, muscle tightness still wakes me feeling like I’ve just lifted heavyweights. Hyper‑vigilance has become a habit; I keep scanning rooms for danger, draining my nervous system.
Friends often think I’m just having “a bad day” when I have to stop abruptly in class or at work.
That hints at a big lesson: healing isn’t about wiping pain away, it’s about learning how to carry it different.
So the goal isn’t to erase each symptom, but to graft tools that let me work, talk, find meaning even while the ache lingers underneath.
Finding Some Strength To Keep Going
The road isn’t done yet.
I’m still trying new things: mindfulness breathing, slowly facing things that scare me, joining a local support group.
Through those attempts I’ve found some hidden grit inside me I never knew existed.
The journey is messy, pricey and sometimes exhausting, but that mess also builds strength.
To anyone reading this: it’s okay to ask for help; it’s okay if the right doctor takes time to find; it’s okay if your healing timeline looks different from another’s.
The path is hard, but just staying in the fight, staying alive each day, is already something big.
Healing from trauma isn’t straight‑line.
It takes patience, money, and courage to face the hurt again and again.
Even when steps back happen, those small forward moves prove recovery can happen.
If you’re wrestling with PTSD or any mental‑health struggle, trust your own story, respect your own speed, and keep moving forward.
The road may be long, but each step you take is proof you’re building a tougher, brighter future.
