Going Waaaaaaaaaaay Back

Well, before we start the whole meaty part of this post an update on B2: according to all of the other tests they ran he has a normal thyroid, it’s just not functioning correctly for some reason. They also said that sometimes it just happens with twins where one will randomly have issues after birth that generally resolve themselves after 3. We have to continue the medication until that point, but the prognosis is MUCH better after the visit with the specialist. He still might have some learning delays, but because we caught it early, most likely they won’t be any more severe than my dyslexia. BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT EVER. It also takes a massive load of stress off my plate. Whoo!!!

Of course last week in the middle of everything, I discovered yet another trigger to my childhood traumas: Children’s hospitals. Which makes a lot of sense considering that’s where my original trauma happened. A minor sinus surgery, and subsequent allergy testing when I was 2 years old is what happened to permenantly alter my brain chemistry, i.e. the true roots of my PTSD. 

Way back then they didn’t know what PTSD was, nor did they understand that children so young would remember events like surgeries and other various medical procedures. It was assumed with the anesthesia and my age I wouldn’t even remember it after the fact. Oh, how wrong they were.

  
The bottom picture is me at the tender age of 2 before undergoing the surgery. The picture above? Me at 3, almost one year later after enduring months of doctors, needle sticks, and everything else associated with that. I’d never really noticed it before, but after the surgery there are rarely any pictures of me truly happy. There were various states of excitement but never a truly happy photo. 

People who have known me for years always tell me I have an intensity about me, and I didn’t understand what they were talking about until I found these photos. Some of it was growing up, but most of it was the anxiety and inability to understand how to handle stress. I didn’t even know what stress was at that point, but it was already such a prominent part in my life. Three. Years. Old.

I’ve sort of touched on my childhood traumas with my therapist, but it’s been incredibly difficult. Aside from flashbacks of the surgery when I was going through my c-section, and the near panic attack while spending the day at the children’s hospital with B2, it’s been buried in my subconscious for so long it felt like it was non existent. It’s been much easier to address my more recent memories of trauma because reminders and triggers of my young adulthood are practically everywhere. 

HOWEVER, my PTSD was present even before the chaos of my young adulthood. Present only in inexplicable nightmares, mood swings, and my tendency to get stuck on very emotional things. All the signs and symptoms have always been present in my life, and often times people realized something was “wrong” with me, but no one ever really took the time to figure out what exactly it was. 

I went through several poorly oriented counseling programs in middle school, completely against my will which actually ended up causing more harm than anything else, and still no one could figure it out. My behavior was labeled as rebellion, disrespect, and willful disregard of authority instead of the cry for help it actually was, and I was written off by my mentors and ostracized by my peers. Making for a very lonely existence up until I started dating, and we see how THAT ended up being a disaster until I met Hubs. Lol. 

I don’t have any regrets. Life is difficult for everyone in their own regard, it’s what makes us human. I only wish my suffering would have been more obvious to those around me, in charge of protecting me and preparing me for adulthood. As obvious as it is to me looking into those deadpan, sad eyes of a lost little girl. 

If I have one overall goal for my children, it’s to avoid that permanent look on their faces. Through any and all means within my control.