Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

February 9, 2019

PTSD is a psychiatric disorder that can occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, war/combat, rape or other violent personal assault. (American Psychology Association)

This is a topic I have avoided writing in detail about.  I avoid it because I don’t like being vulnerable talking about it let alone sharing it with strangers out in the world.  I also avoid it because I struggle with being “worthy” of this diagnosis. And finally I avoid writing about it because all too often this term “PTSD” is thrown about willie-nillie and in a way, it has lost its meaning, its severity.

But today I write about it, because I feel I need to.  This is part of my life with a traumatic brain injury.

I think it is human nature to avoid talking about things that make you uncomfortable, scared, or sad (or is it just me?  I don’t have the best communication skills when it comes to “feelings”!) Over the past four and a half years I have avoided talking about my accident, mostly because it made people uncomfortable.  They said they wanted to hear it (they offered for me to vent) but then once I started talking they would often change the subject, relate it to something asinine, or they would become emotional and I didn’t feel comfortable continuing. I’ve also avoided talking about the accident because it just brings it all back and most of the time, I’d prefer to forget it.  

A few months after I was hit I was highly encouraged to find a therapist that specializes in TBI.  I searched but I was unable to find any…let alone any in my neck of the woods. The suggestion was dropped and we moved on.  Truth be told, I know I should have seen someone (TBI speciality or not) but I honestly didn’t want to. I didn’t want to sit and tell a stranger how scared and broken I now was. How angry. I had tried therapy a few times in my twenties and early thirties (for depression) but I never found a good fit with a therapist, so I was often left with bad impressions.  Based on my previous experiences, I was in no rush to attempt this again! I was well into my “new” life with a traumatic brain injury when my neurologist sent me to a psychologist to discuss what I’d been through. My doctor knew I was carrying a heavy weight around with me and TBI speciality or not, she wanted me to talk to someone. I had my first appointment with the psychologist and her eyes got watery as I talked about the day of the crash (Great!  I can’t talk to her either!) and at the end of the session she said to me “you got hit by a car…of course you’re upset and scared…anyone would be…it’ll pass.” She also told me I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and she thought she could help me. “Come back and see me in two weeks.” When she first mentioned PTSD I responded with a smirk and an internal thought of “ya right!” but quickly I started to think about things I was experiencing and I realized “oh my gosh…she’s right!”  So I went back two weeks later and she immediately wanted to dive in and “cure” me of my PTSD. “The first thing we need to do is have you confront your fear. We will come up with a game plan to get you back to riding.” “I’ve been riding my bike. As soon as I was no longer nauseous and dizzy I got back on…I did not want to be afraid of it.” “Oh! Ok! Well…that changes things. Come back in two weeks and I’ll have a plan.” (I should add that at this particular appointment I was also handed worksheets to fill out about how it felt to confront my fear.  These worksheets were a joke. I was supposed to document how I felt when I looked at my bike, when I touched my bike, when I got dressed to ride, when I put my shoes on, etc. I tried explaining to the psychologist that I wasn’t afraid of my BIKE. I was afraid of getting HIT again.) I went back two weeks later. I was presented with a “plan” that involved me riding my bike around empty parking lots. I asked why and she said “to get you back into riding”. I reminded her that I was riding and I was riding a lot further than just doing a lap or two around a vacant lot.  She responded with a not-so-confident “oh…ok…umm…” Long story (not really) short, after three visits I was told there was nothing they could do for me. That the biggest part of therapy for PTSD is confronting your fear and I had continued to ride my bike. She offered for me to come back and just chat with her but I couldn’t handle paying money to tell MY story and watching the listener cry!

I struggle with using the term PTSD because I don’t feel that what I went though comes even close to the children I’ve worked with with this diagnosis (abuse like you could never fathom) or someone in the military that saw a hell we cannot even imagine.  I was hit by a car. It was very scary, I am still very scared it will happen again, but it doesn’t compare to what others have gone through. It’s also hard to use the term when a tell-tale sign of having PTSD is avoiding the trauma trigger, yet I fought to get back on mine as soon as possible.  All that to say, I don’t know what else to call it. I fit the description. I have the medical diagnosis.

When it came time to navigating life with a brain injury, I did lots of research, I had to as there was very limited support.  I implemented my own modifications and accommodations (thank you Special Education background). After the diagnosis of PTSD came around, I found I had to do the same…research! One thing I learned early on is that TBI and PTSD come with some similar symptoms (irritability, loneliness, insomnia) but PTSD also brings some nasty symptoms to the table (hypervigilance, flashbacks, fear, anxiety, nightmares).  

For almost two years I avoided therapy once again.  I still did not feel comfortable talking to a complete stranger about what I’d lost, what I continued to lose.  But alas I am heading back. The nightmares are becoming too much for me to handle alone. I deal with “nightmares” when I’m wide awake and when I’m fast asleep.  The anxiety is getting worse and worse. The triggers are more frequent. It’s time to talk to someone. Hopefully they do not cry when I tell them my story. Hopefully they have something more to suggest then “give it time…it’ll pass”.  And hopefully this one can understand that I am not afraid of my bike (hell, I look at all my bikes lovingly!) but I am terrified of getting hit again.