PTSD: 5 Subtle Signs You Suffer from Trauma

PTSD is no fun, but almost everyone has endured some trauma and retained the effects in their minds and bodies. Last night another 5.0 quake hit, shaking my bed and knocking a couple of books down off the shelf. As I lay in bed, I found myself automatically pleading with God to stop the quake. My mind and body remember the 7.0 quake. And if I am technically accurate, an 8.2 tremor where I was, near the epicenter.

Whenever we have even a minor tremblor, my mind rehearses that earthquake, a minor flashback of sorts. I remember the bookshelf rocking back and forth as I try to keep it from falling on the mirror. The sound of glass shattering and the roar of the earthquake as it rumbled up the mountain and back down again echoes in my mind, if not in my ears. Because this was such an unusual event, it was easy to pick out the symptoms of minor and somewhat temporary PTSD.

Relational trauma is harder to identify. The earthquake is sudden and shocking, shaking up one’s world for the minute or so that it happens. Relational trauma slowly colors all of one’s life the way a slow cooker gradually creates a stew or soup whose flavors have blended slowly in the constant, low heat. Unfortunately, by the time most victims leave, they, like the soup, are fully cooked.

I didn’t recognize that I suffered from PTSD for years after my first marriage to a man who my daughter, with her Ph.D. in psychology, has identified as a narcopath. But the symptoms of that twelve-year catastrophe still echo in my body. Case in point: I have had to go through a couple of mindfulness exercises to get even this far into the post. PTSD looks a little different in everyone. I can only share how I experience the ramifications of abuse, or at least how the symptoms listed in endless articles actually manifest in me.  The problem with the many articles on the topic is that the vocabulary is limited. A flashback can be a much smaller event than the full-body hallucination that Hollywood portrays in its movies.

So here is how I have experienced PTSD. Maybe some of these will seem familiar to you:

1: I avoid emotional situations, even fictional ones.

Hyperarousal can be defined as an intense experience of thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and physical sensations resulting from the traumatic event. For me, I need to be in some control of my exposure to highly emotional situations. I read the endings of books to understand what kind of emotional investment this book will require. As someone who sobbed for days over the death of a character in a novel, I used to think I was just over-sensitive. I am sensitive, but I also can experience hyperarousal if I am not careful. Now I know it wasn’t the character that made me cry so much; my PTSD was triggered.

A lot of practice, inner healing, and therapy means I am at a place where I am free to experience my own emotions without fear. I no longer dissociate from myself, at least not nearly to the extent as I used to. However, I reread the same books because they are comforting friends. I know the pitch and sway of their emotional content and I can ride their waves safely. I can’t watch violence, whether physical or emotional, on-screen without paying a price.

2: I always look at everyone’s faces and body language, determining potential unfriendlies.

When I was young, I used to be a people watcher. After all, people are fascinating. But hypervigilance, the state of being overly aware of one’s surroundings, came later. Once when I had my eyes dilated and couldn’t wear my contacts, I felt panicked. Why? I couldn’t see the expressions on the faces around me. In an abusive relationship, one is always paying close attention to the abuser. After all, any changes in mood can mean drastic changes in the emotional weather.  Unfortunately, while my read of the emotional environment is often accurate, sometimes my tendency towards hyperarousal can exaggerate any potential danger.

3: My version of PTSD comes with some unhealthy self-soothing techniques.

Drugs and alcohol are common among those who have some degree of PTSD. For me, so much of the abuse I endured centered around finances. Learning how to budget and not over-spend has been a painful journey for me. My ex kept me and my daughters in extreme poverty for a decade. Poverty, by itself, can be very traumatizing. I keep too much food in my freezer. I used to have way too many clothes, though I have gotten much better at that one. My brain is sure that starvation is imminent. I battle with sugar and over-eating as well. My body and mind want to make sure I never lack again.

4: Sometimes I have to fight to keep my mind on one thing.

PTSD comes with its own version of ADHD. If something is triggering at all, I have to fight to stay attentive. This included conversations at times. My daughters laugh at me because sometimes I randomly change the subject. It took me some time to really understand why I did this. After careful observation, I realized that I will crack a joke or change the subject to lighten a mood. It is one way of avoiding hyperarousal. Nothing is harder for me than the pain of my children. I have to take it in gradual doses. It isn’t because I don’t care. It is because I care so deeply.

During the writing of this post, I have hard-boiled some eggs, changed my clothes, brewed tea, played Words with Friends, checked my Facebook, bought some Pampered Chef, and stared into space. I can laugh at myself because I see what I am doing. I am like a diver. I go in deep and then have to come up for air. To look at all of these things requires patience with myself. I know that my injuries are healing quite nicely, but that doesn’t mean they are fully mended.

5: I get clumsy when I am triggered.

There. I used the dreaded triggered word. The media and the politicians have made a mockery of a word that has a legitimate purpose. Being triggered is not about getting one’s feelings hurt, or even about finding oneself offended by an opposing viewpoint. Instead, PTSD can trigger a reaction that moves throughout the entire body. One has little choice about what that looks and feels like. For me, I tend to get dissociated. If I am stressed, I don’t always know it immediately. Often, after I have bumped my head or stubbed my toe multiple times, I begin to realize that Houston, we have a problem.

                If our emotions aren’t safe, sometimes we hightail it out of Dodge. We leave our bodies and kind of hover outside of ourselves. If you keep dropping things, losing them, or brushing up against the sharp corner of a table multiple times, you may be stressed. Take some time to feel the rogue feeling and come back home to yourself. Otherwise, you may end up with an injury. I fell down the stairs multiple times, spraining my ankle dreadfully over and over while I lived with my ex. He didn’t push me physically. He didn’t have to.

Oops. Another couple of rounds of word games after that one. Friends, the good news is that PTSD is curable. It isn’t a personality disorder which is permanent. Nor is it a mood disorder in that it needs medication for the rest of one’s life, though meds can help. It is your mind and body coping with the pain of a very real sort. Don’t do what I did and wait a long time to understand why you feel the way you do and why you do the things you do. Jesus took all of our trauma onto His body so that we wouldn’t have to be captive to the past. Take the time to learn how to give it to Him, whether through mindfulness, EMDR, cognitive behavior therapy, inner healing or some combination of all of those.

I highly recommend the following books on the topic:

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Coming Home to Yourself