Silence is Golden, Except When It's Misunderstood

I fully believe the universe works in mysterious ways. And from whatever it is that controls it, you’re not dealt more than you can handle. In the past 3 months I’ve learned a lot about myself, the people I surrounded myself with, people in general, and the human spirit.

As you may or may not know, on September 6th of this year I spent the majority of my 33rd birthday in a small closet of a dear friend’s apartment on St John hoping we made it out alive and wondering whether or not my home on St Thomas was going to live through Hurricane Irma as well. I’ve written up most of this story which started as therapy; one day maybe I’ll share it or maybe I won’t. I’ve hit what felt like rock bottom a few times in my life which, as I tell my new psychologist, are stories for a different time.

Which brings me to one point of my story - I see a psychologist and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Mental health issues are hard - I’ll touch on this shortly. I actually have 2 people I talk to and have helped me rebuild and heal myself since Irma. I’m learning that everyone processes trauma differently, there’s no right or wrong way. Now, back to the juicy stuff…

The days surrounding the hurricane were a whirlwind, but the amount of community support that I witnessed restored my faith in humanity as a whole. It saddens me a little that bad things need to happen in order for people to come together, but fortunately, the community I witnessed on St John was like no other. I think it’s the only thing that kept me afloat for the week that I was stuck in Puerto Rico. Well, that and booze.

After returning from the islands, I was more of a mess than I was when we were stuck there! I will never forget touching down on the tarmac of Logan airport at 11:01am on September 14th. The first thing I wanted was a MaryLou’s iced coffee. After satisfying my want and making keys, I got home and just cried… it all hit me. Even as I sit here writing this 3 months later, I can still feel those emotions. I won’t detail everything that has happened since then, it’s too much. But, the day after returning I had plans to spend time with a dear friend of mine hiking and doing cat yoga for charity. My desire/need to do yoga with kittens far outweighed my fear of interacting with other people and I knew this friend was “safe”, so after meeting with the social worker at my Employee Assistance Program I continued with modified plans with a friend. My heart, while still broken, was happy.

I continued to try to do things to get myself back to normalcy while still having an intense fear of being alone and interacting with others. I still wasn’t eating or sleeping or breathing. I had no control over my emotions. I cried at the mention of the storm. I couldn’t go to work and if I did I certainly could not make it through an entire day without having a panic attack. I didn’t workout for 3-4 weeks. I spent my days scared and anxious and sad. I couldn’t be left alone without a flashback. I couldn’t hear loud noises without crying. I spent every second of my day replaying the events of September 6th in my head and thinking about the islands and my home.

But, from the outside, I looked fine… if you ignored the massive bags under my eyes.

In working with social workers I learned that I couldn’t just jump back into real life. That the trauma had broken me down farther than I thought. I needed to start with the basic needs of life: food, water, sleep. I wouldn’t be able to heal if I didn’t have any of those. After weeks of re-learning how to take care of myself, I started to acclimate back into the real world. During this time I was seeing a counselor twice a week while waiting to start my EMDR treatment for PTSD. During the first few weeks of recovery I would color every night, avoid ALL news related to the hurricane recovery, stop looking at my phone at 7pm, and did not go on social media.

The interesting thing about these past weeks are the people who reached out to see how I was doing and the people who didn’t. People who I didn’t even know cared or paid attention were checking in on a regular basis. People I considered my close friends, were not. Typically, I shut down and shut others out when things are bad. It’s my learned coping mechanism. But, this time, even when I WANTED to reach out I couldn’t. I also didn’t want to break down in front of others. I didn’t want to talk about the events because I didn’t want to relive them. I always want to fix things for others or make them happy or be there for people. This time, I couldn’t. I needed to heal myself. I needed to work on healing my mind and my soul. I needed to begin making sense of the awfulness I experienced doing anything possible.

It’s hard when people think because you start doing things from your pre-trauma life that you’re fine. I had this fight with my doctor. His idea of making me better was throwing drugs at me and then when I asked for an extension on my leave of absence, he didn’t understand why because I had actually forced myself to go to work and the gym 2 days that week. He all but said “if you’re doing those things you can return to work full time”. He immediately responded with “Well, haven’t you seen psych yet?!” He also ignored me telling him that I had a panic attack both times I left my house to go to work.

I dealt with some of this thinking from coworkers. I dealt with some of this thinking from acquaintances and friends and family. It’s sucks when you’re doing your best to not break down in public and you feel like you can’t talk to anyone about it. I spent a lot of time breathing deeply, grounding myself, and trying to make time for everything.

I’m still dealing with a lot of these issues, but thanks to the magic of research I’ve gotten much better. I’ve learned to prioritize. I’ve learned to be nice to myself. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned to enjoy silent down time. I’ve learned to forgive myself. I’ve learned to be more confident. I’ve been building myself back up with bricks that I’ve always wanted as a part of myself. And I’ve been able to look at this thing I call life a little more clearly. Sometimes I don’t see things that make me happy, but I’ve learned to accept them. I’ve learned that if people can’t love you at your worst, they don’t deserve you at your best. And I’ve learned, most importantly, that I can’t function unless I take care of myself.