I bring this up today cause I have PTSD. While I have not been officially diagnosed with PTSD, having been through an experience that was traumatizing and understand the symptoms I have confidence with this self diagnoses. The story goes like this...
In high school I quickly found a group of guys to connect with. We all were a tight fit and enjoyed the same activities. Remembering this is high school, we were children and easily influenced by our surroundings, media and felt the need to impress upon others that we were "bad" that we were tough. We formed our little crew early on freshman year and pretty much stayed close for several years.
As I said we were young and often times didn't like to play by the rules. We drank and partied like we were adults. Did some not so nice things that could have landed some jail time...which we wont get into this round. At any rate, one night we all decided it would be a good idea to get some alcohol, head over to one of the guy's house because his parents were out of town.
As we settled in to a night of drinking 40's of malt liquor/Mad Dog 2020, with tough guy behavior and our favorite gangsta rap music bumping away the speakers there was no worries or thoughts of any consequences to our actions. As the night progressed, I found myself separated from the main group with a companion in an upstairs bedroom. After awhile there, an interruption occurred when a member of our little crew (my closest friend out of the group) decided to come into the room. He was extremely intoxicated and felt it a good idea to rummage around our friends room to see if there was something he might acquire for himself. Being interrupted, a little frustrated I attempted to politely voice my option on his actions. With the alcohol running through his veins, he did not hear a word I was saying. At this time, he moved from looking through a closet to drawers in the nightstand beside the bed. There, he found a Swiss Army Pocket knife that appeared to be shinny and new must have felt that he had found a jackpot and was satisfied with his treasure hunt. As he was walking out the door, he turned a stopped just before exiting and looked at me. As if understanding that I was not alone, he asked if I could step out into the hall and talk to him for a second.
Before I continue, I would like to paint a quick picture of the friendship between this individual and myself. As I've explained above our group was really tight. We spent quite a bit of time together over the years and had a bond that can not be put into words. With this in mind, there were times with our crew did not assemble and when that was the case my closest friend and I would still find things to do together. We had many classes together and often shared things about each others life that we didn't share with anyone else.
By him asking me to speak with him privately was nothing unusual. With several several attempts to delay this conversation, I found that giving in and offering my time was the best thing to do at this moment. As we stepped out into the hall, I felt an almost annoyed feeling. A feeling that he was not respecting where my mind set was at that moment. We began talking about random things, situations and circumstance that had involved our group at the time. While trying to keep up with this conversation, I was aware that it was turning from a simple 'hey we're friends talk' to a conversation regarding my loyalties to the group. Without getting into too much detail, our little crew had had conflicts with another group on the other side of town. (boys will be boys) So at this point having the awareness that I was now being challenged to see whether or not I would participate in any sort of altercation with this other group. My defenses naturally started to go up. Being that I was the more grounded of the group...the one that challenged a lot of the wrongs things we did. Understanding this...it wasn't a surprise that the unknowing of my ethical position on the topic was being addressed.
As the conversation became more and more serious, I noticed the pocket knife he had found earlier was open with a blade out and was in his right hand. I also, became aware of a set of stairs that were leading down to a lower floor directly behind him. My being was beginning to feel an emotion that I was not used to feeling. Fight or Flight. This response was triggered and to this day, there are only bits and pieces that I can remember. I remember him pushing me, hitting him multiple times in the face, him falling backwards down the stairs, then running into the room I had left to find something to use as a weapon. Hearing that he had picked himself up and started running up to the room, I suddenly realized that something was wrong. I was bleeding. Where was I bleeding? My t-shirt beginning to show more and more blood; him bursting into the room with a look of rage on his face...I'm now backed into a corner.
Our little ruckus had been heard throughout the house and others started to explore to see what was going on. With rage and some tasteful language coming out of his mouth, he was tackled by someone which gave be chance to leave the room. Not knowing where the blood was coming from my flight response started to kick in.
Quickly, three of us left the house in route to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, the adrenaline began to wear off...a sadness rolled over me. My mother was now going to get a call from the hospital stating that her son had just been stabbed. This broke my heart. Still not knowing where the cuts where we made it to the hospital. Three wounds, five stitches in a cut on my right arm which was extremely close to an artery and four stitches in each of the two cuts on my left arm.
As a result of this situation, I realized pretty quick that something needed to change within my life or else I was going to go down a path that would lead to some more very unpleasant things. It was almost a re-birth of my consciousness if you will.
I find myself often reliving that night in my mind. Looking at how it was effected my life some time later. Now that I've committed to teaching Yoga, finding a calling as a healer has opened my heart is so many ways. Living with PTSD is not easy, but with acceptance of who I am now at this moment makes the healing all the more easier. The connection with my divine and with love I hold in my heart, has given me the ability to pave a way for a healthier and positive future.
With love and forgiveness in my heart constantly I find my commitment as a healer makes everyday a blessing and an honor to be alive.
Namaste'
For Information on PTSD from the National Institute of Mental Health see the following link:
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