<\/p>\n
As a young 24-year-old, I spent two and half weeks in Kenya with undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Spoiler alert: I totally triggered out about halfway through, with no understanding or explanation of what was going on in my brain.<\/p>\n
It was during that trip that I heard a phrase from one of the other church group members on our team. We stood in a patchy field under the dappling shadows of one of many types of unfamiliar trees in the countryside outside of Nairobi. Goats and cows grazed nearby.<\/p>\n
We held small cups of chai. I call it Barnyard Chai, because if the cup is held under an udder *and* you pick hay out of your cup to take a drink, then it’s from a barnyard.<\/p>\n
A fly flew into my new friend’s cup of Barnyard Chai, landed, and died. Legs straight and wings limp, the black raisin-like body floated on the surface of the beige liquid.<\/p>\n
She sighed and said, “This is not me. I am not here.” And she reached in and flicked the fly out of her cup, taking a swig.<\/p>\n
That phrase was magic. First, I cracked up, of course, watching the dead fly arc through the air, landing in the dirt. Genius<\/em>, I thought.<\/p>\n <\/a>I hung on to that phrase and used\u00a0it through years of turmoil and trauma<\/a>. A few years later when my first child was born in the midst of a rare pregnancy disease and we both almost died. A couple of years after that, when my second child was born after I spent a month in the hospital on mandatory bedrest. A year after that, when I broke after a cherished family member died. Through the years of my children’s infancy and toddlerhood, through nights and weekends alone when my husband was working his demanding job, through job changes and layoffs, when friendships died and when I staved off the dark cloud of hopelessness that threatened to engulf me.<\/p>\n Now my children are 15 and 12 years old. My marriage is being broken down and built back up. And I’m thinking that this PTSD escapism and daydreaming and fantasy world isn’t the best coping skill anymore.<\/p>\n At this point, I feel like I need to remind everyone that I am not a therapist or medical professional. I am a person who was diagnosed with C-PTSD<\/a> in 2006 and have been living out my healing and recovery ever since. If you have additional questions about PTSD, dissociation, and dissociative identity disorder, please contact a medical professional.<\/em><\/p>\n Dissociation is that emotional numbing that we feel, the sensation of being outside of ourselves while the trauma was happening and when we have nightmares and flashbacks. I personally consider dissociation involuntary, as this is what my brain did when my sexual abuse happened. My brain protected me through unplugging me from the trauma as it took place over the years.<\/p>\n I experience dissociation when I have PTSD triggers, resulting in both intense emotions and my perceived inability and difficulty handling these emotions. Other symptoms can include unexpected mood swings, feeling separate from yourself and others, and trouble concentrating or with memory.<\/p>\n These sensations are familiar to me now, part of the trigger process, and they eventually fade. Escapism, though – I think this has become a problem for me.<\/p>\nFrom Dissociation to Escapism<\/h2>\n
The Habit of Escapism<\/h2>\n