Personal Narrative: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

On September 2nd 2016 my best friend, Ashley Minor, who is a single mom of two, was working her twelve house shift at the hospital. At the end of her shift her life stopped for a short time when she received a phone call that her 8 year old son Teagan, was hit by a car, and had multiple injuries.

Focus! The burden of destructive emotions constantly tarnishes my brain. It is essential that I isolate myself from the pessimistic chain of thoughts. I need to distort myself from the daily trauma and everlasting misery that I encounter. The turmoil has left me forever fatigued and has numbed my mind. My heart is grazed and broken with regret, my soul is haunted by fear and guilt along with my body diseased and rotten. The experience has been morbid and excruciating, I can’t tolerate this anymore.

Throughout our lives, every person encounters hardships that put a strain on other aspects of our lives. The biggest hardship that I have faced was taking care of my wife after she suffered a severe head injury while at work. The injury was the result of a salad fridge door falling and striking the back of her head, causing her to receive a severe concussion that lead to post-concussion syndrome. As a result, she became completely dependent on me. Some of the major hardships that we faced during these times are finances, helping her cope with her injury while she recovered, and maintaining my 4.0 GPA.

I learned that I should continue to care for the whole patient with love and accept them for who they are (Caruso, Cisar, & Pipe, 2008). Continuing to show this patient how much I cared through my perseverance made a difference in both of our lives. I created a healing and

Soldiers who return home may not only have physical setbacks, but are mentally traumatized from what they have witnessed while serving our country. Veterans are more prone to be diagnosed with PTSD due to the combat they experience or witness on the field. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in veterans has been prevalent for decades and there is still no known treatment option that has been found entirely effective. Many Vietnam veterans who never sought treatment due to the nonexistent “support for the troops” have been covering up their symptoms for approximately forty years. Countless soldiers return home without jobs and some feel like their whole world

We also got a brother along with a mother and father. He was born with alcohol syndrome because his mother drank when she was pregnant with him. We all had our own bag of problems. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for everything that happened to me. When I was a year old, one of my foster families didn't strap me into my car seat, and they got into a wreck. The car accident started my PTSD, but after that, everything bad that happened made my PTSD worse. My sister had mental health issues, to the point where the doctors said her mindset would remain at 15 until she's 35.

A couple of years ago, one night, I was about to propose to my girlfriend before an nfl game tbh, when my roommate Joseph barged into the room out of nowhere, tripped and fell over, breaking a glass table with his face. Totally ruined the mood. Now, I didn't know Joseph THAT well, don't even remember where he was from, but let' just say I put my plans on hold to help him through his injuries.Joseph had gotten a big glass shard in his eye, making him completely blind in that eye. He was walking around with one of those cotton pads on his eye for a couple of months. Then suddenly, he disappeared, along with my girlfriend .Apparently they'd bonded during the time after his injuries, and eloped together , left me behind without as much as a note.

“Chantelle! Come over and see this,” my mom whispered as she glided past me towards her client’s chair. I unfolded my nine-year-old self from under the empty hair dryer and gingerly walked over. While peering skeptically at the child’s scalp before me, I began to note tiny bugs crawling by the roots and my eyes followed my mother’s comb tip as she pointed out several nits. This was definitely one of the worst cases of lice she had shown me, and I had seen quite a few by then! As the daughter of a hairstylist, my exposure to skin and hair started at an early age. Growing up in a salon allowed me to observe first hand how significant an impact looking healthy on the outside had on a client’s everyday confidence and self-esteem; a lesson that was later reinforced during my acne ridden teenage years at an all-girls high school. At the salon, I always enjoyed being called over by the estheticians and hairdressers to view interesting cases that ranged from alopecia and cystic acne, to severe foot fungus and poliosis. Since my mother and her employees always recommended physician follow-ups when they spotted something suspicious, I was always left wondering what happened on the medical end of the spectrum. In high school and college, I began to fulfill this curiosity by reading about the science behind skin, hair and nail disorders.

When I was a child, I moved around quite a bit. It became hard to get attached to places because we were never assured that the sacred spots would be ours for much longer. As I got older, however, I have realized that special places do not have to be dictated by a length of time, and allowing myself to fall in love with a place gave me the roots I had been searching for. While I have not lived in Indiana for several years now, there is something about this certain cluster of trees in Indiana that remain special to me. When I was a child, I saw them as the gateway into Narnia, and during the winter snows I would bundle up in my cheap fur coat my mother bought at a consignment shop and run outside searching for Mr. Tumnus and calling myself Lucy. My imagination gave me the ability to bring the characters I loved so dearly to life. This experience has shown me that providing children with the ability to use their imagination not only provides entertainment, but also allows children to have a safe outlet to cope with traumatic situations, make

Introduction: I have chosen this subject in order to maybe understand it better, in a way that hopefully it becomes easier for me to deal with it, this condition to which I have become very familiar with, not because I study it but because I am one who suffers from such disorder; this is what I call the side of the coin that no one see. Although I don’t think is such a bad thing, some have given this disorder a serious bad image to which as usual the media have distortion its image to a point where we have become and sometimes feel as if we were in a glass box. By first hand I have experienced how for example a potential job interview changes its trajectory once is discovered that I might suffer from such disorder.

“Oh I got my heart right here. Oh I got my scars right here…” With the slow beat of The Weeknd, I took a right onto the highway. Where was I going? I didn’t know. I was just going to drive my thoughts away. Peering down into my windows, the moon shone on my interior, lighting up everything. It was just me, the moon, and my freedom. I turned the radio louder to blast out my thoughts and just think about the song. I do this therapeutically. Driving makes me feel better, especially when I have no certain destination or deadline. My only goal is to chase the moon in an eternal game of tag, but for some reason I’m always “it”.

Passing the end of the cold winter, Cherry blossoms and flowers are blooming. We were sitting under the flower rain. It was spring.

When I opened my eyes I saw ten plus people with agonised faces like the one from that famous painting “The Scream” - by Edvard Munch, staring at me, and slowly moving from one side to another. For a second I thought that I was just having a nightmare so I decided to take a deep breath, but the second after my thought ended I was penetrated by a sharp, unbearable under any circumstances pain, coming from the very top of my spine feeling like I had a large needle inserted into my upper vertebra. It felt like like every single muscle in my body contracted so hard that they ripped my limbs in pieces, and soon I was not able to move at all. All of this lasted for about 5 to 7 seconds my mom told me later on. I have

It was a bright sunny summer day when I stepped outside of my friend’s house. As I hopped on my bike and began to pedal, harder than usual, I began to groan as I peered down at my front tire and saw that it was flat. So then I jumped off my bike and grumply began to walk home. As I was walking I noticed something unusual, two men in suits, one in front and one behind me and as I began to think of a way out of this terrifying mess, a black van pulled drove up screeching against the side of the curb with its wheels and before I knew it the same men following me had put a black bag over my head and they tossed me in the van.

Based on having three courses, a practicum, and an intensive this summer, I was prone to experiencing burnout during the summer of 2017. If I suffer from burnout while participating at the Naaman Center, it can affect my educational involvement and influence me to not be aware of the information that is being shared amongst the clients in group/individual counseling. Nevertheless, since I would be showing signs of fatigue, I would be avoidant of approaching my supervisor about important information this is required for my counseling education and theoretical/therapeutic approach. At the start of the summer, I believed since I had the summers off, I could handle three courses, a practicum, and intensive. Certainly, there were weeks where I