Hello, PTSD: I Finally Know Your Name

Mental Health Awareness Isn't a Day or a Week or a Month. It's Every Day.

For all of my adult life, I have known that I am different -- perhaps that even something is wrong with me. I finally know the name of my demon, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). And it is "what's wrong with me."

I've shared much of my journey to this clinical diagnosis, but let me briefly summarize for those who haven't seen my writings before. October 2020, I was admitted to the ICU with extreme hypertension, heart failure and kidney failure. I lost 40 pounds of water weight in the hospital over four days. Thanks to good care and excellent medications, my blood pressure was brought to a safe range and over a period of months my heart function returned to a normal range and my kidneys rebounded to an acceptable level. Physically I am OK.

The Mental Health / Physical Health Connection

I had received no medical care at all for more than 20 years, and dental care only when I was in pain. Family members and friends talked about me and my avoidance of care (mostly behind my back). I would hear bits of information that people were saying about me periodically. I knew that I was being talked about, not to or with. When people did talk to me, it was often hurtful, like "You're such a baby" or "You're too afraid to go to the doctor." Or I would be asked a question by a well-meaning person, but with an audience of others I felt were sitting in judgment of me. I shut down.

People didn't understand, and God, I didn't understand either.

I had read books and articles, watched videos, prayed and reflected, but I absolutely could not get myself to seek the care I needed.

When I was admitted to the hospital, I told E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E that I had avoided medical care for more than 20 years and that I believe I suffered from medical phobia (self-diagnosed from a UK national health website). I explained that this was very difficult for me, that I appreciated their help, and that I needed their continued help to get through it. I used the same communication and rapport building skills with doctors and nurses that I use as a coach. It was really hard -- really, really hard. But when you are not breathing well, a survival instinct kicks in to get you through each next moment.

The Road to Health

When I got out of the hospital, I knew that I needed to take care of my physical health. Frankly, that has been really, really easy. In medical terms, I have been 100 percent compliant. I take my meds, I carefully watch what I eat, I track my sodium intake religiously, I weigh in every morning and have lost 50 pounds since last October. I go for all of my follow-up appointments, and I continue to learn about my blood pressure, my heart and my kidneys. The hard part has been mental health.

As someone well-versed in root cause analysis as a coach and consultant, I knew that I had to get to the cause of almost dying. It was my mental health. After the first few weeks of getting a grasp on my physical health, I made an appointment through Teladoc (online medical and mental health care) with a man with a doctorate in psychology, a little bit older than me and with a distinguished career in his profile.

Dipping my toe into the mental health world was brutal. He told me "Everyone is afraid to go to the doctor. You just need to do it. Make appointments and go. It is not complicated. You just need to decide you are going to do it, and then do it."

Wow, I never thought about that before. It's like I recently heard on John Moe's podcast, The Hilarious World of Depression, in regards to a person with depression: "Why don't you just try cheering up?"

Mental Health Care Round 2

I was ready to give up, but his advice was so absurd that I knew it was wrong. I was reassured by a couple of people I know who have invested many hours in therapy and who have done an amazing job with their mental health, that I should find a new therapist, so I did.

My second therapist was wonderful. She immediately validated my mental health concerns and praised me for persevering to get the care I need. We worked together over the course of about eight months, and it was extremely helpful. We were able to process trauma going back to my childhood with medical and dental situations that had left severe marks on my psyche. She taught me various coping strategies and led me through numerous exercises. Ultimately, I catalogued 38 medical and dental situations that were significant to me in understanding my trauma from childhood through adulthood. After most therapy sessions, I was delighted and exhausted at the same time. It was kind of like working out at the gym and each time pushing yourself for a new personal best.

And then she disappeared.

The online scheduling system told me that she was no longer available and that I would have to choose someone else. I almost called it quits then, because I was feeling pretty good. But I was not done with me, and so I searched the online system and found another therapist.

Mental Health Care Round 3

I did not feel very optimistic at the end of my first session with the new therapist. He told me that he felt there was something more going on than medical phobia. He asked me to consider that maybe my strong reactions to the situations I had experienced could be because I might be on the autism spectrum. He asked me to complete an at-home assessment before our next session. It basically indicated that I might be a bit offbeat (my term), but that I do not fit the characteristics of someone who should have further testing for autism.

At the second session, he asked me to be patient and cooperate with a series of questions that might at first seem obtuse. When we finished the Q&A, he told me that my answers were almost identical to those of veterans he treats for PTSD. He informed me that he himself is a veteran who receives care for PTSD, and that is why when he reflected on our initial session he suspected that I might have PTSD.

Over the next couple of sessions, we dug deeper. He gave me articles to read and self-reflections to conduct. And we agreed:

I have PTSD.

PTSD is not just a "thinking" disorder. The trauma one has experienced alters the brain. It affects many if not all aspects of one's life. It can be completely paralyzing and debilitating for life. It can lead to violence against others or self. It can lead to substance abuse. It can lead to self-isolation. It can lead to disease and premature death. It is a nasty disease. My therapist informed me that phobias are "about this high," holding his hand up to his chest. And PTSD is "up here," holding his hand up to his chin.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu**," I thought. (Like Roy Kent, for all the Ted Lasso fans out there.) This really sucks." But I finally know my demon, and its name is PTSD.

In my case, my PTSD is characterized by hyper vigilance almost all the time. I seldom really relax, and when I do it is not for long. This has helped me make really good risk management decisions during my life. It has kept me out of trouble. It has helped me be clear-headed and thinking about the next moves in "the game" when others are stunned into paralysis during crises. But it also leaves me avoiding traumatic situations like medical care, where I cannot cope. I have no violent outbursts. I do not abuse substances. I do self-isolate and need more time to recharge after I am around people.

One funny thing, and yes -- humor is helpful -- is that when I am shopping I often ask myself if I "could take" that person coming toward me in the aisle if they attacked me. Odd, I know, but that's part of PTSD. The hyper vigilance is real and it's harmful to the mind and body. One outlier -- or perhaps because of my own trauma: My therapist describes me as unusually empathetic -- something I am proud of and that I do not want to lose.

The Next Chapters

There is so much more to come. With work and travel schedules I have gone almost three weeks without talking with my therapist. I see him next on Wednesday. One of the things he recommended is that I meet with a psychiatrist to be evaluated for medication.

Candidly, I am highly skeptical (and a bit afraid?) of starting to take medication for PTSD. I agree that my brain has likely been altered by PTSD, however, my life is generally pretty good. Because the earliest trauma I can recall is about 55 years ago, my brain has formed with PTSD and I have functioned with my "PTSD brain." This is my normal. My entire world view has been shaped by PTSD. What could medication do for me or to me? I meet with the psychiatrist on Tuesday.

So what about Monday? Oh, just a dentist appointment -- that I am prepared to go to, thanks to the mental health work I have done up to now.

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I share this in the hopes that my transparency about my journey can help others, especially during mental health awareness week.

If you are experiencing a mental health crisis, you can go to your nearest hospital emergency room and ask to speak to someone in crisis intervention. If you are having suicidal thoughts or feel you can't hold on, please call 911 or the emergency service number in your area. If you need to talk with someone urgently, you can call the national suicide prevention lifeline, 800-273-8255.

I am not a trained therapist or crisis professional, and I am not available 24/7. However, if you need to talk or would like to ask me any questions, please reach out -- chuck@chuckemail, 267-640-5932. I have been through my own hell, and I care about you.