Accepting the diagnosis

I lived in denial of the diagnosis for months. I was ashamed to tell people that I have this disease, PTSD, originally caused by the first death I had ever experienced, an extremely traumatic one to say the least. I always understood that people reacted differently to different situations, but I had never thought this would be something that literally effects the rest of my life. I still don't half understand why out of my whole family that experienced this death, I was the one with the most suffering. I was the one that couldn't move on from it. To this day, I still don't understand why it was me and not anyone else.

I go to therapy every week, and every week my wonderful therapist reminds me that everyone has different reactions to different situations. If someone had a heart attack in the grocery store, one person might run and help, some would just stare, and others would start screaming. Everyone reacts differently. I am not sure why it took me so long to fully understand in my head that I just had a different reaction than everyone else did... and that is PERFECTLY okay. < Now that was hard for me to understand too.

At the end of December 2011, I started realizing, you know, it IS okay that I reacted differently because EVERYONE reacts differently. I repeated this in my head almost non stop for a couple weeks. At that point, I was finally accepting my diagnosis. I reacted differently to a death than anyone else did so now I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The deaths that followed Ian's are what made it even more likely that I was developing PTSD. Accepting the diagnosis is part of the healing process. I need to accept it in order to heal from it. It took me 7 months to finally accept it.

Being accepting of my diagnosis makes it easier for me to tell people that I have it. It makes it a LOT easier to tell people I have it. I know that some people won't understand, and with the stigma of mental illness, some people might judge me, but that doesn't matter because I am OKAY with having PTSD. (Even though it SUCKS.) It feels so good to finally say that I accept this diagnosis. After telling my therapist last week that I accept it, I opened up to my dad about everything and I opened up to Laura, a girl I work with about everything. It felt GREAT! And I am proud of myself! This week, I am prepared to tell more of my family about what I have. I won't go into detail, but just let them know what I have. At a point in time, I will tell them about this blog so they can understand more. I say the same thing everytime I tell someone, "I was diagnosed with Post traumatic stress disorder in May of 2011. The first death I ever experienced was extremely traumatic for me, and the 7 deaths that followed didn't help either. I reacted differently than other people do."

I am NOT ashamed of being diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it may have taken me 7 months to reach this point, but it feels great to be here!