Why Are PTSD Anniversaries So Different?
Don’t take it personally if I check out in the middle of our conversation.
We were having coffee at my favorite coffee shop on a sunny August morning. Listening to her voice was riveting and mesmerizing. Everything in my world was peaceful. However, in an instant, that quickly changed, and the peace was obliterated by the horrifying experience of another flashback.
At the time, I was not consciously aware of an anniversary for me that was quickly approaching. This was not the kind of anniversary a person looks forward to and there is nothing about it to celebrate. For someone who has PTSD, anniversaries of traumatic events are significant. They are frequently preceded by an increase in the intensity of their symptoms: especially flashbacks and nightmares.
This particular anniversary is of a horrible experience I had many years earlier. Because of the trappings of PTSD in the brain, I still cannot articulate exactly what I went through. Even though I’ve relived it hundreds and hundreds of times.
If you’ve read my earlier work, you will understand that I can’t just pull up the details of my traumas as if they’re memories from last weekend. They’re not in the “memory” part of my brain. Yet. And until they are, they are impossible for me to consciously access. However, there is no question they left an indelible impression on my brain. My trauma anniversaries are not something I keep track of on a calendar. Nor do I write them down in a planner. I don’t need to be reminded in that way — my body remembers for me.
Up until this anniversary, the trauma held inside my body from this event had been building up strength like a gathering hurricane lurking far out to sea. Nightmares about the event were becoming more frequent and intensifying — the outer bands of the hurricane had begun to lash at the shore. There could be no mistaking what was happening; there was a storm on the horizon.
As the date grew closer, it was becoming more and more difficult to hide my increasing anxiety: especially from her, and it was the topic of several conversations between the two of us over the last few days. It was not so obvious to me — or perhaps I was just in denial out of fear. But, what was happening was clear to her. She’d already witnessed this process enough in our brief relationship to know that I was in trouble and declining rapidly day by day. She was doing her best to prevent the coming catastrophe. Unfortunately, no amount of love can stop it.
It was as if a heavy wet blanket had been draped over my head and a new one was being added daily. The weight was becoming unbearable and with every new blanket, the world around me grew darker. Succumbing to the power it had over me, I completely unraveled and suddenly found myself having a full-blown flashback, sitting with her in a coffee shop.
Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. As I was trying futilely to appear that I was listening, I was fighting a fight I knew was impossible to win. Panic gripped me, choking me and starving my brain of precious oxygen. I was drowning and living on borrowed time. It was only a matter of minutes, perhaps seconds before I slid underwater one last time, never to surface again.
Even as the sweat ran down my forehead and fogged my glasses, I was desperately trying to convince myself this wasn’t happening. Not right now. Not again. Not in front of her. But, I should know better than to believe the lies I tell myself. It was happening.
My vision blurred and she disappeared from my view — her beauty was replaced with an unimaginable scene, with all its terrible sights, sounds, odors, tastes, and touch. I was experiencing something no one should have to see and do. My whole environment had transcended into a virtual hellscape where everything is a threat and I have no allies. It’s me against me: willing myself to fight and survive. If hell is real, I sure don’t want to ever go again. Because I’ve already been there. I get to revisit it often.
A frightening part of a flashback is not being able to distinguish whether the event is happening at that moment or not — the line between the past and present, reality and imaginary do not exist. All of my perceptions were telling me: I’m reliving this traumatic event all over again. The unpredictability of PTSD flashbacks is a terrifying and devastating experience. They do not care where I am or what I am doing when they come — they will come.
By now she could see what was happening to me. I don’t know how much time passed since the flashback began. But, the next memory I have is of her face coming back into view. I recognized the concerned look on her face. I have seen it before and it always makes me sad. Why does she put up with me? How much more could I expect her to take before she discards me as the others have? The guilt, shame, and self-loathing were overwhelming.
Then I heard her voice, softly and gently pleading: “Where are you right now, my love? Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”
Quietly, I said: “I’m in one of the bad places again. And, I don’t know when I’m coming back — I’m sorry.” Helplessly, I watched her beautiful blue eyes grow cloudy and well up with tears yet again.
PSA: If you know or love someone with PTSD, it would be wise to learn when their anniversaries are.
I am dedicating this to the people who have supported me throughout the many years I have been on this journey. You have stood by me unwaveringly no matter what I have put you through. I know there have been times where I left you frightened and terrified you may never see me again. Yet you are still here with me. It takes a special soul to love like that. I want you to know I recognize you are also on a journey and everything you have to endure because of me is not lost on me. I hold you close in my heart — forever.
Chris Patton is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.
