I Walk the Line

I was furious! I had been seeing my therapist for a while starting a few years ago and I was starting to get my Explanation of Benefits from my insurance company. It wasn't the copay that I was upset about. It wasn't my insurance coverage. No, the item on this sheet of paper that had me seeing red was...the diagnostic code. Written in the middle of the paper were the words "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." What? That was impossible. I checked to make sure they hadn't accidentally sent me someone else's paper. Nope. My name was printed at the top. I called my therapist and left a frantic message to her, imploring her to call me back as soon as possible. About an hour later, she was on the phone with me. I calmly explained to her that there must have been some mistake. That I just got my Explanation of Benefits and it said Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There was a long silence and she replied with, "Yes?"

"Well, THAT can't be right! I don't have PTSD! I need you to change that."

"I can't change it. That's what you have."

She went on to explain my symptoms and asked if I had any questions. But I couldn't even think. Didn't even know what questions to ask. I quietly told her I didn't, hung up the phone, and snuck into the bathroom to collapse into a puddle on the floor and sob quietly to myself.

This couldn't be right. How embarrassing! Me? Diagnosed with a mental disorder? PTSD was reserved for those brave men and women in combat who fight for our freedoms. The soldiers who see atrocities that my brain can't even fathom. The military personnel who watch their buddies or commanders die right before their eyes. I couldn't possibly have PTSD. I didn't do anything to deserve this! Nothing happened to me like the things that people who should be diagnosed with PTSD go through. 

My next session with my therapist was painful. I cried. I sobbed. I denied that I had PTSD. I told her that was impossible. And I cried some more. She handed me a list...a list of the symptoms of PTSD:

1) Reliving the event/re-experiencing the symptoms

2) Avoiding situations that remind you of the event

3) Negative changes in beliefs and feelings

4) Feeling keyed up (hyperarousal)

The bullets that were under each number described me. I had difficulty sleeping. I experienced flashbacks. I had trouble concentrating. I avoided situations. Nightmares plagued my sleep. Certain things could trigger me into a panic attack. My world came crashing down around me. I was horrified to admit that I had PTSD. 

I am healing. My nightmares are less and less. My triggers don't send me reeling. I'm sleeping better. I am healing. 

And then, new demons began to plague and torment me. Knowing that I was not at my strongest and healthiest, the enemy began a spiritual attack on my soul. Convincing me that I was worthless. That I was a terrible mom. That I was incompetent in my job. And for a while I believed them. I was confused. I felt worthless. Sometimes, I felt like the only way I was going to find peace might be to exit this world. Give my girls a chance at a better life. And when you find yourself in that place, it is terrifying. Everywhere you look there is chaos and hopelessness. Everything you hear is a voice telling you that you are nothing. That no one would miss you. That your are worthless. And I almost gave in to those tricks. 

But faith! Faith pulled me through. Amazing family and friends pulled me through. Staring into the eyes of my children pulled me through. Reading my Bible and taking communion and journaling pulled me through. 

I am not completely free from those demons, but I am in a much better place. I know that I am not alone in my battles. That God is with me, right by my side, and that He will never leave me. That I have a wonderful team of family and friends here on this earth that help me walk through. That pray for the girls and me. That will be there to remind me that I am so loved by my Heavenly Father. I am blessed! So very blessed!

Last night, Emerson and I were walking to McDonalds while waiting for Amelia to get done with dance. As we were walking, our path crossed an older lady pushing a cart. She was dirty and looked tired and she was talking to herself. As we were approaching her, Emerson started to sing a little Bible song that she had learned in school. I started singing with her. As we approached the woman, Emerson kept singing and I silently prayed for this woman. She was talking to herself, swearing and looking so very agitated. And my heart broke for her. Experiencing PTSD symptoms and the spiritual attack pieces, I could understand maybe a little of what was going through her head. It is a dark and scary place to be.  

We kept walking and praying for her, and then I thought about the line. The very fine line between this woman and me. Without people who are willing to fight for me. Without the countless people that have prayed for me over the years. Without the power of the God that I have faith in. That woman could have been me. There were times that I just wanted to stay in bed all day and hide from the world. There are times that it took every inch of my being to not put my girls in the truck and run away from everything. There were times in the middle of the night that my anxiety and flashbacks were so strong that I would have given anything to make it stop. There's a fine line between this woman and me. 

But I walk this line, and I fight everyday to stay on the OK side of that line. With the help of my Father, and with the help of Jesus, and with the filling of the Holy Spirit, I walk the line. And they walk with me. As I think about my experiences, and as I remember how it feels to be in those moments where I slipped below that line, my heart aches. My heart aches for the many that deal with PTSD alone. My heart aches for those that walk the streets and look "crazy" but just need a boost, a support system, and a knowledge of a loving God that can carry them through. I know that I need to do something. I need to help! I need to pay forward the love and kindness and faith that was instilled in me, carrying me from dark moment to dark moment, and helping me walk the line. It is my calling to spread the word about PTSD perhaps, and help people understand the horror of that, and then the awfulness of being under spiritual attack. For honestly, I believe we all walk the line. And I hope and pray that I can help people walk theirs. It can be a lonely, terrifying walk. And not all people are as blessed as I am with love and support and faith. 

I say this often, but BE KIND! For we are all fighting battles. And we are all walking our own lines. Be kind, and have compassion, and pray for those of us who are struggling with the line. And reach out for help if you are the one struggling. It's hard to admit to others that you think you're crazy. It's hard to face the fact that you are maybe not mentally at your best. It's hard to admit or even know that you are under attack from the enemy. Don't be afraid to ask for help, or reach out to a friend or a pastor or anyone! Don't feel crazy! We are all fighting battles that no one knows anything about. Why do we do this? We should be here on this earth to love and support each other. We should be ok reaching out for help before it gets to the point where we are below the line. Where we are drowning and can't get out. And we should also be ok reaching out and helping the ones that are struggling. 

Be kind. And if you are struggling, continue to walk the line, and try to stay on the OK side of that line. And if you're close, give me a call. I've been on the not OK side. And I don't want anyone to get on that side and silently suffer. God will rescue you! God loves you! And I do too!