My life with PTSD
A STORY ABOUT ABUSE, MENTAL WOUNDS, AND HEALING
By Vanalak VongPhit
I was diagnosed with PTSD at just six years old. Being so young, you would never think that anyone would have to experience the abusive behaviors that I endured, but the sad reality is that it happens. Because of my disorder, memories are scattered. Most of what I remember are the handful of good times, where I’d go to the park with my step-mom and eat ice cream while feeding the ducks. Luckily, I don’t remember a lot of what happened around that.
What I do remember, though, are all the times that my step-dad beat me with a stick and forced me into our windowless garage. How I had to sit in this pitch black room, not able to cry because I would get into more trouble. I remember being forced to stay up at night, waiting for my abuser to come home from work, so that we could have dinner as a family. I would be on the brink of collapsing from fatigue because I was up past any toddler’s bedtime. I remember practically sleeping at the table while he was serving us pho. He grabbed me by my wrist and burned the top of my hand with the spoon he used to stir the soup. To this day, I have a faint scar where he had left it. One story I don’t remember, but was told by my mother, was that he threw me in the deep end of a pool. I was afraid of learning how to swim when I was a little older; I guess that explains why.
It’s interesting how the brain can react to trauma, and it’s different for everyone. This disorder can look different in me than it does in someone else who struggles with PTSD. The worst part is that so many people believe that it isn’t real. They think it’s something that’s about the person and a weakness they choose to have, a weakness that we can’t move on from. But it’s far from that. It’s literally a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s an invisible injury that you suffer from for the rest of your life, and it’s something that I’m still learning how to cope with and understand.
I deal with at least one of my symptoms daily — whether that’s my hyper vigilance, dissociation, anxiety or depression. On a good day, I’m able to enjoy life. I clean, I write, I sing, I spend time with the people I love. But that can change in just an instant, with just a trigger. On bad days, I can’t get out of bed. I don’t brush my hair, my teeth. I can’t find enough energy to get myself food. I Isolate myself. My depression is at an all time high. On bad days, there’s always a sense of threat. I excessively blame myself for small things like not having any clothes because I haven’t done the laundry yet, or seeing my boyfriend upset over a game he lost. In my mind, it’s my fault because I brought him water. I distracted him.
My episodes can be big or small, depending on what happened. Being in a room where someone else turns the light off induces my heavier episodes. It’s like a flashback, I’m suddenly that little 5-year-old girl. It can feel like an anxiety attack. I hyperventilate, excessively cry and shake. Sometimes my arms and my legs start to feel numb. Feeling like I’ve upset, or disappointed someone, being so hyper vigilant, prompts the smaller episodes. I excessively blame myself for anything and everything. I worry that I’m no longer good enough, that I’m only as important as the dust on my nightstand. I start to overthink, and avoid doing simple tasks that would potentially get me in trouble. I’m still in the mindset of my younger self.
It’s hard to grasp. I don’t even fully understand it. It’s frustrating because it’s an invisible war in my head that I have to keep fighting daily. Having people tell me to get over it, when I physically can’t has always made things harder than they already are. The voice in my head likes to tell me they’re right, I am weak. I should just get over it. But the thing about PTSD is that it’s not experiencing trauma and then easily moving on; it’s experiencing trauma so bad that your brain physically gets altered. I’m still learning how it affects my everyday life and how to live with it, because sadly, it’s never going to go away. I’m still trying to figure out how to calm myself from an episode. Sometimes it’s something as simple as breathing, but sometimes it’s not good enough. So I turn to music, whether I’m making it or listening to it. Or I just have to sit down and watch 10 movies in one sitting. Either way, I’m narrowing down my remedies.
My experience was a lot, but it doesn’t mean that I’m broken. I have a story and I’m strong enough to share it without giving power to my abuser. I’m the woman I am today, not because of him, but because of how I overcame my situation.
This piece was written and shared during the IDONTMIND Writing Workshop. Learn more about our free, nine-week course and be the first to know about the next workshop here. Visit Mental Health Connecticut’s YouTube channel for a video version of Vanalak’s story.
Vanalak VongPhit is an aspiring writer and musician living in Vancouver. She also finds joy in bouldering and participating in her church community.
