I'm writing this not as part of an attempt to seek attention, nor to grandstand in a 'pity me and buy my books' Dave Peltzer sort of way, but in the hope that people might come to a better understanding of the condition known as post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD for short. Because there are a lot of people who have it, including a fair number who don't yet know they do. Who knows, you might even know one or two yourself.

Anyway, let me announce right now that I would never say I suffer from PTSD. I have it, that's true, but I'm not the sufferer; my wife is. She's the one who has to contend with the nightly yelling, the broken sleep that leaves her drained when most others are waking refreshed for a new day, and my short term memory loss that I know sometimes leaves her frustrated beyond belief but which she endures with a patience worthy of beatification. I don't suffer but she does, bless her.

No, for me the most difficult part of having PTSD isn't any of the most frequently quoted symptoms. It isn't the irrational fears, the over-reaction to any sudden loud noises, or even the night terrors that sometimes come to visit leaving a set of soaking sheets and an unwillingness to look your next door neighbour in the eye. In fact for me the most difficult part was in being diagnosed as having PTSD in the first place, or to be more accurate, recognised as having it.

Throughout the assessment process there was always a slightly sinister undercurrent of blame; a suggestion that I was the author of my own misfortune, that by drinking to excess I was somehow invoking or creating the symptoms I presented. And to some degree that was true. It's fair to say that I wasn't helping myself by self-medicating, but that wasn't the root of my condition. It was my response to it, which is a very different thing.

In my attempt to prove that I gave up drink for three months, at the end of which in celebration I stocked up with enough drink to run my own pub for a week. Who then should I see in the supermarket queue with my trolley full off liquor, but the psychiatrist who had suggested that my difficulties weren't related to PTSD, but to alcohol. Bugger. I saw his face and it didn't bode well for my future treatment.

Not until later did I find out that the real reason for the delay in diagnosis had its roots in far more practical things than medical uncertainty. It was because my employers, who were funding my assessment, were concerned that if I were assessed as having PTSD then I might sue them. It wasn't just myself, there were many others in my position who might also take legal action. In these litigious times I can understand their reticence, yet it still rankled that without a decision on diagnosis then treatment of any kind was unavailable to me.

It still is. To be fair to my employers I did get very good and effective treatment for PTSD's ugly handmaiden, clinical depression. (Not being job-related they were happy to pursue that). No dramas there.

But for the PTSD itself, the advice I got from the clinical psychologist I was referred to was this (and I quote);

'Best not to think about it.'

Believe me, I try not to. Really I do.

Copied from blogs (original entry) - post comments here.

"But for the PTSD itself, the advice I got from the clinical psychologist I was referred to was this (and I quote);
'Best not to think about it.'
Believe me, I try not to. Really I do."


The nail firmly hit on the head Jim.
I'm with you there, folk may think My attitude to life is sometimes OTT or juvenile at times , Its My way of dealing with it , everyone has something that “works” for them .
Mrs WW now sleeps in another room ( claims it because of my farting ….) to get a war free night !
Hang on in there mate

WW

Jim, after my second session with a psychologist, she was in tears after telling me about the problems in her life. I seem to have that effect. Stick with it mate

Hats off to you Lucky Jim - that's the most revealing, most realistic piece about PTSD I think I've ever read.

I've just read it again and it still is.

All the very best to you and as WCW says - hang in there.

BURPA

Single beds in our household, that way the wife gets better kip.

I've been thinking of digging a trench with a sleeping bay in the garden and sleeping in that, I'd feel safer but I think the neighbours will freak out...again :D

Take care.

L_J, You have a way and style of writing that grabs my attention every time.

As everyone else has said, hang in there (I was going to add "because you are not alone." but not sure if that is good, bad, trite or what)

I wish you well.

Originally Posted by Bugly

Single beds in our household, that way the wife gets better kip.

I've been thinking of digging a trench with a sleeping bay in the garden and sleeping in that, I'd feel safer but I think the neighbours will freak out...again :D

Take care.

Funny you should mention sleeping in you trench! Bugly.
I have not had the urge to build a "Trench" yet.
I´v built a shed in the garden, very secluded been trying to get the wife for ages to let me sleep in shed, she thinks I´m mad, I just FEEL SAFE there, I think it reminds me of a Sanger!
Sometimes I just go into shed and Just look out of the window, sometimes with a "Thousand mile stare"

What The F@ck ! We´re all mad!

Oh joy ! its not just me then , I have a shed too , in the trees and secluded , I tell the Mrs I'm off to India (ala C Potts chitty chitty bang bang ) safe quiet and easly defended.
"What The F@ck ! We´re all mad!"... Hmmm, maybe not.

WW

Does the blog help in any way ?

Good luck - I hope you manage to tame those demons. Please keep writing - if others understand, they may realise how they can help more.

Yes Rab, writing a blog does help. (Great avatar by the way.)

I think it's partly because the process of writing forces me to marshal my thoughts into some semblance of order. I tip them out all over the floor, then arrange them in what I hope is a logical sequence before committing them to the screen and hitting the 'submit' button.

Apart from the pleasure I get out of creating a piece of text, I find that writing has an almost cathartic effect that I don't get from any other activity. Once I'm finally satisfied that my effort is fit for submission I feel a sense that I can only describe as falling somewhere between pleasure and relief.

(One day I really will write the book I've been meaning to start for the last decade.)

Thanks to all who have commented or sent PMs. Your thoughts are very much appreciated, especially as I took something of a leap of faith in posting on this topic.