When There Are Words

It's odd how having words to describe a situation changes how you relate to it. The mess going on inside of me hasn't actually morphed into something that is comprehensible. Having words, especially ones I can share with others, feels like the same mess is encompassed by some sort of boundary in which it resides without spilling over. I've already used many, many words to describe the portion of the mess associated with my feelings of isolation and lack of human connection. I now have a way to describe the other portion related to my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and described in recent entries. I experienced childhood medical trauma that led to adult onset of PTSD. With therapy, I was able to manage the symptoms and make inroads into recovery. For me surgery of any kind bares enough similarity to my original traumatizing experiences that my brain tended to react as if it was trauma. Over a two and a half year period, I underwent seven surgical procedures and with each the PTSD symptoms were less – a net gain in PTSD recovery. Then, I was traumatized by events surrounding a surgical procedure. At the time, I did not respond significantly to the trauma aspect, instead suppressing much of the emotional response. With yet another surgical procedure on the immediate horizon, there has been a resurgence in PTSD symptoms including nightmares and triggering of flashbacks and body memories. Words. All neat and clean. I'm slightly worried that my ability to convey them in a calm manner is in fact me further suppressing my emotions and that what feels like containment is in actuality minimization of the real trauma I experienced. Guess we will find out.