For some people, when think they of PTSD think they of people who have been to war. PTSD is now more than just shell shock, it can be for people who have suffered all sorts of different traumas like miscarriage, rape, car crash, assault, etc.
When I was younger, I thought PTSD was just shell shock but as I got older I started to learn that it can encompass a lot more.
In class, this one doctor was talking about how most of her patients have been suffering with PTSD for 10yrs+ without any help or treatment. I can’t imagine having to suffer that long with PTSD & not having any help. I understand why it happens though, society has told us it’s a weakness & that we aren’t supposed to talk about our emotions, especially the negative ones.
I believe that going to counseling doesn’t mean that you are weak, it actually means you are strong. It means that you want to address what is wrong & overcome it.
I also believe that everyone should go to counseling, it should be the norm. Starting when we are kids, we should see a counselor several times throughout our lives. We change as we grow & because we aren’t taught to properly handle our emotions, we need help navigating these changes.
A poem about the loss of a child from our PTSD week.
On the Death of my First and Dearest Child, Hector Philips, born the 23rd of April, and died the 2nd of May 1655
Twice forty months in wedlock I did stay,
Then had my vows crowned with a lovely boy.
And yet in forty days he dropped away;
O swift vicissitude of human joy!
I did but see him, and he disappeared,
I did but touch the rosebud, and it fell;
A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared,
So ill can mortals their afflictions spell.
And now (sweet babe) what can my trembling heart
Suggest to right my doleful fate or thee?
Tears are my muse, and sorrow all my art,
So piercing groans must be thy elegy.
Thus whilst no eye is witness of my moan,
I grieve thy loss (ah, boy too dear to live!)
And let the unconcerned world alone,
Who neither will, nor can refreshment give.
An offering too for thy sad tomb I have,
Too just a tribute to thy early hearse;
Receive these gasping numbers to thy grave,
The last of thy unhappy mother’s verse.
Katherine Philips (1632 – 1664)
(Poem shared in college course)
Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.