Where are my glasses? Where is my mind?Tweet
Life’s all about those little moments, isn’t it? Well, yes, of course it is. Sadly though, it’s also about those ‘panicle’ moments that alter our life’s course forever. Some of these moments can be both good and bad, and have a huge impact on the way we conduct ourselves moving forward.
Take PTSD, for example. It is a debilitating mental-health condition that may require years of recovery, if recovery is possible at all. For me, there’s no denying that my traumatic experiences have formed my current predicament. So much so in fact, that I have no idea what the future has in store for me.
With that said, I can’t focus too far down the road to mental wellness; rather, I must learn to navigate my way through the world again one mindful moment at a time. Personally, I suck at this right now, my tolerance for the wider world just isn’t there. There’s no denying the struggle is because I am disabled by my post-traumatic symptoms. I disassociate a lot and for the best part of my days, I don’t feel like I’m me – that rather, I am a passive observer of my own life. This, along with the hyper startle response, I find almost impossible to overcome, but despite this, I fight on.
The symptoms I mention above are some of the most noticeable. I mean, jumping out of your skin over half a day is really, really noticeable. However, there are stealthier symptoms of PTSD.
A great example of this is how trauma impacts your memory. I have just recently noticed a correlation between the time my symptoms appeared and the loss of ability to find things. My family can tell you that I’m constantly saying, “Where are my glasses?”
This was never a thing for me, at least not to the degree it is today. It’s as though once I put things down, my mind no longer cares about their existence, thereby leaving me with no recollection whatsoever of where I had put things. When I say, “no recollection,” I mean, none!
Poor memory and PTSD.
This naturally turns me into a nomad, wandering the house looking for mostly my spectacles but it can also be my keys, wallet and now, my face mask.
So, if you find yourself asking, “Where’s my glasses?” and you have PTSD, it could very well be the neurological loveless of memory impairment. Don’t have glasses? I wonder where you put your keys last night before you went to bed…?
If you are struggling, please go here for help: Crisis Services Canada