I was officially diagnosed in early January.
I started realizing how bad I was feeling in September. I had a two week period where I barely got out of bed. The minimum of groceries purchased, essential laundry done and Mickey taken to school was all I could accomplish. I'd had days like that before but that's all it was, a day. I still wasn't sleeping through the night and would wake up at least once and have to check on the kids before being able to get back to sleep. My sleeping finally got better when we got Lilly. Having her crate next to my side of the bed meant that I could finally sleep through the night.
In October, I worked hard on just trying to feel more like myself but realized it wasn't working. I joined our local gym in November to see if I could work out enough so that endorphins could counteract what I was starting to see as a real need for help.
I went almost every weekday. It didn't help.
In late December I had a yearly check up with my doctor and told him of my issues. Depression, extreme negative feelings, panic attacks while driving and multiple flashbacks to my son's accident everyday. I was really afraid to admit these problems to him. Because while I was struggling, I was also doing really well at hiding it from people. I felt like acknowledging my problems would make them real. That having these problems meant that I was a weak person.
My doctor was wonderful and very understanding and prescribed some anti-anxiety meds and recommended a therapist for me to see. I started the meds right away and told my husband and my mom about what was going on with me. A week or two later I also confided in a dear friend who helped me get up the courage to see the therapist.
I am so glad I did. She confirmed that I had PTSD and we worked on some strategies to help me deal with my flash backs. Most of my other symptoms had been helped by my medication but the flashbacks weren't.
It has felt so good to get help and get a handle on my issues. While I still think about Mickey's accident daily, it no longer traps me. I've only had one bad flashback since I started with my therapist and it happened the night we put our 15 year old dog, Devo, down. That flashback was awful. It made me realize that I'd been dealing with at least a half dozen of those horrific visions every day. It was no wonder I'd been struggling.
It's now been a month since my diagnosis and I'm doing so much better! Parts of my life that have just been neglected are getting some much needed attention. Important things like my relationship with my husband and unimportant things like the hot mess that my craft room has become.
I'm putting this out there just in case there is someone else who is struggling. Someone else who feels like they should be able to "just snap out of it". Someone else who feels worse just knowing that they haven't been able to.
Get help. Talk to a friend, a family member, your doctor...someone. You are not weak, you are not bad. You just need to get help.
Trust me. :)