“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.” — Mark Twain

I would like to talk about trauma. Before the accident, I did not understand the signifigance of the word. I did not know trauma in the personal way I do now. I had been touched by it before, but this time, this time was different. I do not know why. It just was. While I was in the hospital with Chris, I didn’t know the effect it would have on me. I thought I was strong enough to handle it; the news of the accident, the hospital and the healing, and the aftermath. I believed Chris would heal, and he would go back to work and we would go back to “normal.” I believed I just had to be strong, but I did not realize strength has nothing to do with it. It did not matter how strong I was. That would not protect me. Instead it has to do with how my body reacted to trauma, and how I processed it. If we allow ourselves to feel it. If we push it away. It affects us all differently, but, it affects us all. For some reason, this was not something I understood. Maybe we are taught that living through trauma and grief is only for the strong. The only problem is, I think we often define the word strong in a way that can be damaging. At least I think I did. I thought it meant not feeling it. Not being affected by it. Not complaining. Not asking for help. I didn’t really understand how important support was. I didn’t know how difficult it would be to reach out. I did not know how to tell someone I felt like I was drowning, and that keeping my head above the water was all that I could concentrate on. 

In September 2014, just over one year after Chris’ helicopter fell from the sky, I had my first panic attack. It had been a difficult year of challenges and milestones. Chris had recently gone back to work, and I was on my own and isolated with my two young children. In many ways, it felt like we had successfully survived the first year, but still, my body refused to relax, and the lack of any real support was crippling. We had moved closer to home in the hopes that family and friends would support us, but quickly found out this was not to be our reality. While this made me incredibly sad, I could not focus on it, as I had two young children to love and nurture. Chris had been away at work for over a month in the time leading up to my first panic attack, and the fear and the grief I was dealing with had to be pushed to the side, so I could be the mother my children needed. 

I did not know this way of existing was dangerous, and  when it happened, I had no idea I was having a panic attack. I thought I was literally dying. Apparently, this is a common, to believe we are dying, when really our body is trying to communicate something very important to us. It scared me, so, so much. In the year following the accident, I had never thought to research post-traumatic stress, or how it can manifest in a person. I did not have the capacity or the energy at that point. It had never even occurred to me that I could be affected in this way. I had not been involved in a helicopter accident. Chris had. It was not me who had lived through it, so you can imagine my surprise and my dismay, when my body told me, no more. It was done with holding in all of the stress from the trauma, and from being the support person and the caregiver. I needed support for myself. I had not even considered taking care of me. Not really. I just made it through the days.

At that time, I knew as much about panic attacks as I did about post-traumatic stress, which was essentially, nothing. I had heard about it in passing, but dismissed it because I never imagined it affecting me. It is so easy to do that. Not care because it does not affect us. A sad truth about being human. We look away so easily. I have not told a lot of people about the panic attacks. It feels weird for some reason.  I don’t know, maybe I feel ashamed. Maybe I think it make me look weak. I try not to think that. We have been through a lot, and I do know it is a normal reaction. I am normal, but the situation, not so much. I try to be more open and the more I talk about it, the more I realize I am not alone. Having panic attacks does not make one weak, it is simply an exhausted body reacting to trauma.

Today, I frequently think about post-traumatic stress and how it can affect a person. Trauma has such a profound and far reaching affect on so many lives, and misunderstanding, minimization and lack of support can exacerbate it. It appears people are starting to discuss it more openly, but dialogue is not happening fast enough. I have learned through this process, that there is not a lot of support for those struggling with trauma. What can be found has to be pieced together, and is expensive, and this only makes a bad situation worse. It means that people are still falling through the cracks.

While I do not really enjoy talking about the panic attacks, and I often wish it had not happened to me, it has given me a new way of seeing the world. A different perspective. It has given me a window into something I knew very little about, and this is one of the reasons I write this blog. It is my small contribution to the conversation, pushing back against the notion that those who struggle in the aftermath of trauma are weak, or broken. Panic attacks and post-traumatic injury should be given the space to be discussed openly, creating a dialogue on how our bodies and our minds deal with trauma. It does not have to be so isolating, and scary. There needs to be more resources to support those who are struggling. 

I have not had a panic attack in a while now, though I still deal with the anxiety the accident brought in. I try to find ways to breathe or talk myself through it. Panic attacks, or as someone very wise called them, wake up calls, are no longer a part of my daily life, but I know if I do not take care of myself, they might just come calling again. I have been working on lowering my stress levels. This is not always an easy task, but so necessary. Trauma can become trapped in our bodies, and it will always find a way to release itself. Sometimes our bodies get stuck in fight or flight, and we have to find others to help us get out of this state. I am trying to understand this. I am also trying to understand that I must take care of myself and my body. I know that support is so important, though we still struggle to find enough. I have children who depend on me to be a positive role model for them. This can be both a pressure and an inspiration. Mostly, it is an inspiration. I want to be a mother that they can be proud of, so I feel I must start a journey. One that includes learning all there is to know about post-traumatic stress. One that includes finding the paths that will help me to heal. Help us to heal. That will help me release this trauma and move forward. Hopefully into a place where I can help others find the same pathway. The pathway that leads to healing.