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PTSD and me


I used to be plagued by the standard symptoms of PTSD for years.  Despite knowing what was going on with me–my background as treatment provider made it impossible to not know–I didn’t begin any kind of treatment until my early 30s.  I went to therapist after therapist looking for someone who would ‘fit’ me, ‘get’ me.   There was the therapist that used our sessions for her own therapy, the one who never looked at me, the one who couldn’t understand me, and on and on.  I finally gave medications–several of them–a try when stress as a probation officer, lack of sleep fueled the desire to pull the trigger of my P 226 and finally be done with it.

The meds made me fat while giving me the shits, created mental & emotional side effects worse than the ones that led me to them, and led me to taste metal again.

I finally walked away from the whole therapeutic system after yet another therapist, while looking at me, said, “I can’t decide if you are PTSD or Complex PTSD.”  She was identifying me as my illness and it really pissed me off.  So, I weaned myself off my meds and threw myself into my work.   For whatever reason (there were several including ultimately leaving the 80 hr a week job), all of my symptoms disappeared and I moved through it all with something resembling grace.

I get it–the way of living (if you can call it that) with such a debilitating illness, the frustrations found in standard treatment, the effects on others around us and the desire to die.

I can help.  I want to help.  The work I do works.  It doesn’t require belief, faith or trust.  It just requires you being willing to work with me.  For free.  You’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Symptoms just vanish.  Entirely and life goes on.  Life becomes about REALLY living.  With joy, with peace, with sleep, with healthy relationships, appropriate responses to drama and trauma.  With ease and grace.

Just get to me.

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