PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder, is a mental illness caused by an external traumatic event. There are many traumatic events that can trigger PTSD, including accidents, war, assault, violence and natural disasters.
Since my son passed, I have had some reactions in life that
are somewhat confounding given my nature and temperament. I break into cold
sweats at ambulances with lights flashing, I shake when I see cars that have
their front ends smashed in. I panic anytime there is wind, rain, snow and
people I love on the road. Every night around 10, I get violently nauseous. This
was usually the time if not home, Michael would text me to tell me when he was
coming home that night or if he was staying with friends or at his sisters.
When we pass the exit for the road he was killed on I have anxiety attacks. I
thought I was just bat shit crazy. Apparently in 15 months of breaking a leg in
a violent fall, losing both parents, being at ends with your sibling and having
your child die is an external traumatic event. I was shocked when 2 weeks ago I
was given this diagnosis.
But this rambling is not about me or mine, this is about now
more than ever being in awe of my son and all he was, is and will forever be.
How people like my son are amazing reminders of the human spirit and how lucky
and grateful we were to be gifted by God to see his journey through. This is
going to be a hard read, and things are shared are things Mike was open about sharing
in his life to help others.
Since June 10th 2016, my skin has been alive, my
gut and instincts always on alert, my sleep crap, my sense of logic sometimes
failing. My son lived with this for over 10 years of his life, yet he found humor,
grace and himself in the journey. To meet my son you would never have known he
was diagnosed with PTSD and that at times it spun him into incredible places of
loss, sadness, pain and fear. My child was taken away from his birth parents
and put into a system that was designed to “protect him” and while he had many
good folks along the way the journey like so many kiddos in care , eroded parts
of him , some that came back , some still in hiding when he died. My son was
physically, mentally, verbally, sexually, medically, and nutritionally abused.
There was an attempt on his life that resulted in no care for his injuries.
Many folks never believed him, but his untreated injuries and ramifications of
that tell a different story. Here you are triggered in life with an illness
caused by trauma, moved 24 times and expected to be on your best behavior,
complaint and respectful. I liken this to emotional waterboarding of foster kids and us as a
country must wake up and realize without a better system our system by its
broken nature is emotionally torturing these kids. I have read my kids file, listened
to him, walked the floors when he would not sleep because of flashbacks, and saw deep pain in a child whose spirit was really set on flying in love. The
fact that we had Michael, really had him not just had a ghost or zombie or
addict is a testament to him being able to tune into the love of himself and
God. He never called it God but he would talk very openly of something pulling
him to be better, to love harder, and to have hope.
As his parents we bared witness to our amazing peaceful
warrior, our prancing glitter filled queen, or compassionate would be nurse,
club dancer, grandmas baby and defender of the little guy and compassion in this
world. We helped him navigate this world but some things were inherent: He knew
to open doors, help folks with walkers, buy veterans and homeless coffee, give
someone freezing a jacket.
As his parent who he knew loved him unconditionally and
without hesitation or fear, we also carried the fall out of his PTSD. He knew
he could rage and spin and spew and always, always we were still there. The 5
days of hell when his bio called him just to tell him she was getting married
not asking about him at all that sent him into a tailspin about being ripped
away from his sisters, The breakdown that took grandma intervention just to get
him to speak because his fear of loss was so great, The 8 day insomnia and food
binge set off about almost being murdered. The spinning out of control when
fighting with friends because his fear of abandonment was over shadowing their
arguments and the 2 weeks of death poetry, sad fb posts and tears because he
over reacted and felt he had lost people he loved and did not know how to get
them back. Being pushed by well meaning others to talk to his bio dad while grieving my dad that
brought up each and every old fear that conflicted with the natural desire to
learn more about his birth family that set of his running away calling me a
cunt telling me to fuck myself. And he with the help of friends and therapists
coming back to us after that knowing my love for him was unchanging even when I
was not happy with his behavior. All of this these behind the scenes places
where Ty and I had to evaluate whether he was being a typical teen or was his
PTSD triggered and brewing . And as passionately as we love him, we fought with
him to help this PTSD just be a part of his life not a controlling factor. We supported,
found the therapist who helped open parts of him to love and healing and kiddo himself
determined to do the work. My awe for him know no bounds, to love my child and watch
him be in the depths of such pain, there was no words. He had to live it and
each time, each time he came back from an episode and could talk through it, a
part of him healed, he grew stronger and to witness that triumph in anyone is
amazing to see it be your kid, divine and glorious. He was not perfect none of are, he was stubborn beyond belief and his tantrums were of epic proportions,
but he never let this cast him as a victim, it never propelled him into the
mire of non movement. He fought because he was loved and safe and knew that
life no matter how tough was worth living. Michael’s grace was that he had
every right to be a hard, cynical, cold person, his soul choose love. He choose
the light in him not the fear. He rose above his diagnosis. He not the past,
not the PTSD , he defined himself. He was one of the most strong and emotional
pure humans I ever have met and there are no adequate words of thanks to God
for letting him be ours, for making this wonder my son , for gifting us with
the child so strong in spirit .
There is a lot of fear as the driving force in this world,
fear of selves, others, loss real or perceived. It makes us look at the picture
right in front but not delve into human condition because that is hard work
with complicated answers. Foster kids, veterans , refugees all groups with high
levels of PTSD, droves and droves of human who all have in common that through
no fault of their own have lived through and now must process how to go day to
day. It’s so easy to take this to money, resources, time. But I think of my peaceful
warrior and believe in the big questions: how do we globally connect so
soldiers are not thrust into war, how do we keep people safe so they can stay
in their homes and not flee , how can we start caring for all children like
they are their own? And if in our humanity we are not at or cannot get to that
point of minimization of harm , how then do we all believe there is room ,
there is enough, love is not a limited resource where we have to choose? Enough love, compassion, understanding, prayer, hope given to
those so wounded. To lift the human spirit, be witness others pain without our
own prejudices derailing us. I don’t know what the answer is, it’s a process for me but commitment to the dead, a deal with my deceased son. I fought for him to be in a place
within himself to see the beauty in the world and hold hope, I must continue
that path. I may be this traumatized
PTSD mom with hippy ideals and rose colored glasses and that is ok in my heart and
with my God I am right in my place in life is to support the world I wanted
for my son.
Michael we all kept our promises the first day we met, we
never give up on you, and you never give up on us. Your presence in this world
was glory and love and lightness. You awed me kiddo, I love you.
Forever mom
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