PTSD Triggers: Crowds

So – while we’re on the topic of triggers, let’s talk about crowds. From what I gather, most of you are not big fans of crowds.

Like I keep saying, PTSD is basically your brain’s threat-alert system, kicked into high gear without an “off” button. So – you’re constantly trying to size up all possible threats.

Say you’re in a room with one door, one window, and one other person. That’s not bad; you can scan window-door-person, to look for possible threats.

Now say you’re in a bigger room, with ten people. Keeping track is much harder, and it’s easier to get overwhelmed.

It goes up to a whole new level if you’re in a grocery store, a mall, or a football stadium. Now, there’s just no way to keep track of it all. Just thinking about it, you might start to feel your heart rate speeding up a bit – that’s your reflex, getting ready to fight or flee.

Take a moment. Breathe. You’re not there right now.

See what just happened there? That feeling started, even though you were just thinking. Thinking is not dangerous – but your survival reflex is so strong, that just thinking about it makes the danger feel SO real.

When we start to feel like that, we interpret that feeling itself as a sign that there’s danger. If we can’t quickly scan our entire environment, we start thinking the danger must be real, only we can’t see it.

Feeling tense/nervous/uneasy does NOT mean that you’re in danger – it just means that your threat-detection system is reminded of danger.

…That little fact right there folks – that is the key to the universe.

When you’re dealing with PTSD, having that feeling that tells you, “Oh no, major danger is coming” does NOT actually mean that anything is coming.

It just means that your threat-response system was reminded of danger.

Remember Dave the Zebra, and his red flowers? Well – crowds are sort of like your red flowers.

So – how do you cope?

Remind yourself that, as soon as you start to think about crowds, your PTSD will start to act up. This is not because thinking is dangerous, or because crowds are dangerous; it’s because PTSD reacts to reminders of danger.

Heading into a crowd, you’re going to feel anxious/tense/wound up. You may even start imagining all kinds of horrible things that could go wrong, and all those things might feel very, very real. Feeling and thinking this way does not mean that you’re in danger, or that awful things will happen. This is a normal part of PTSD; it is to be expected. This is unpleasant, but not dangerous.

Repeat this information to yourself frequently; with consistent practice, it will get easier. (You’ll probably still not like being in crowds, but it will get easier to cope with it.)

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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PTSD Triggers: Trauma Anniversaries

As far as triggers go, few are as powerful as the anniversary of your trauma.

You probably start to tense up a bit just thinking about it. As the date gets closer, you might get this sinking feeling, like you’re a sitting duck and there’s no escape.

To cope with that feeling, you have to realize that even though you can’t stop the calendar, there are things you can do to cope.

Whether you feel uneasy, tense, nervous, anxious… You’re feeling that way because an anniversary is a reminder. Realize that your feelings are unpleasant but not dangerous.

Use your grounding skills to ground yourself in the here-and-now:

What year did that stuff happen? What year is it now? How long has it been since this happened? Asking these three questions is an important part of reminding yourself that the memory is “back then”, and you are in the “right now”, and there is lots of time separating you from that memory. The memory is a painful one, but it can’t hurt you. Your memory is back then. You are here now. It’s over, and you are no longer in danger.

– Where are you now, as compared to where you were back then? What’s different in your life now, as compared to back then? These are different ways of making the point in your head: That was back then. I am here now; now is different from then; and I am no longer in danger.

It helps to do things to keep busy, especially things that are different from what you were doing on the day when it happened. When the memory starts to creep up, remind yourself: “Right now, I’m home, the year is [now], and I am [doing whatever you’re doing right now]. That happened back in [whatever year], and I was [wherever], and I was [doing whatever]. Right now is different from back then. That’s a memory. I dislike remembering it, but it can’t hurt me anymore. It’s in the past. It’s over.”

Sometimes, your trauma anniversary is not just about something awful that happened to you – it may also involve the loss of someone you care about. If that’s the case, then you may also be overwhelmed with feelings of loss and grief for the person or people you lost on that day. You may think about all the good things that have happened since that they missed out on.

It’s healthy and natural to have feelings of grief. Too often, we think that acknowledging a loss is the same as depression, so we try to avoid healthy, appropriate grief.

So give yourself permission to grieve. Realize that the day will be hard on you; take it easy on yourself. Plan ahead of time to do things that ground you and give you comfort.

When it’s over, take an inventory: what did you do that helped, and what will you do differently next year? That way, hopefully coping might get a little easier from one year to the next.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

This post is shared to mark my own trauma anniversary, and dedicated to the memory of my cousin Pete. We miss you buddy.

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PTSD: Dissociative Symptoms

Holy feedback!

As soon as I put up the last blog post, there was a stampede of comments and emails saying, “Yes! Talk about this more!!!”

Okay.

So we left off talking about how the “freeze” response is part of the fight/flight/freeze reflex. It’s how we defend ourselves when we can’t fight or run away; it dulls the pain of whatever is happening.

Let’s put this together with some information we have from before, about how reflex learns: it learns that any reminder of the trauma is a sign of danger.

So – a reminder of your trauma might set off a “freeze” reaction.

Here’s what it feels like: you might feel like you’re not really in your body so it’s not really happening to you (this is called depersonalization); or you might feel like the whole thing is a dream, a movie, or happening in slow motion like it’s not real (this is called derealization). You might feel like you’re just losing chunks of time – ‘waking up’ and not knowing how you got to be wherever you are (this is called, WTF just happened to me?).

Here’s what it feels like to have PTSD do this to your life: it’s terrifying. You feel like you have no control over your mind or body. You want to do everything you can to grip onto reality, but you get sucked into this rabbit hole. You might feel angry at your mind for betraying you this way.  You might feel guilty, weak, and ashamed for not being “strong enough” to somehow hang on tighter and not let this happen to you. It can leave you feeling traumatized again and again, every time it happens, because being helpless to stop yourself from dissociating can remind you of being helpless to stop your trauma when it happened. You might feel depressed, useless, worthless.

…Boy, sounds like fun, doesn’t it?

Lookit – I’m not gonna try and tell you that getting out of that hot mess is easy, quick, or painless. It’s none of those. If your PTSD includes this stuff, research suggests that, as far as PTSD goes, you won the bleeping jackpot.

What makes it worse is, every time it happens, you might feel disappointed in yourself, like you should be stronger. This just erodes whatever self-respect you have left. You’d never say stuff like that to a buddy to encourage them when they’re struggling…

You need to start by realizing that this happens to you because you don’t feel safe; so, how you start to fix it, is to work on increasing your sense of safety.

The ability to feel safe is like a muscle – and yours is, well… It’s not so strong. You strengthen it with exercises – stuff like relaxation. Grounding skills. These are your drills: practice this stuff. Be patient with yourself. What you’re trying to accomplish here is very hard work, so give it time.

Finally – you know that fine print I put at the end of every post? You know, the stuff that none of you ever read, because you don’t think there’s anything important under the pretty picture?

Yeah; it says that this blog is not a substitute for therapy. If you’re dealing with PTSD with dissociative symptoms and trying to fix it on your own, it’s a bit like trying to perform open heart surgery on yourself. I’m just sayin’ – there’s help out there. Go get some.

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~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions – but before you post, can you take a quick peek at the guidelines? Thanks…

If you’d like to get more updates from me, you can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

Fine print: Reading this blog is a good start, but if you’re having a hard time, it’s no substitute for getting actual help (like, therapy). It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling, and to seek help. Getting help is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

Really fine print: Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Larry Jaipaul, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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PTSD: Reflex and The “Freeze” Response

…You know I’m all about feedback, right? You know this is YOUR blog, and I’ll write about whatever you need?

Well – my stats tracker thingy tells me somebody ended up on Coming Back Home by Googling “PTSD + Freeze response”.

And I thought, Huh – I don’t really have a good article on that. I mean, if I was Random Google Person, I’d be a little disappointed.

So – good suggestion, Random Google Person! This post is for you!

If you recall from previous discussions, PTSD is basically a survival reflex stuck in a loop with no off switch. This reflex has three parts, depending on what kind of threat you’re up against:

fight is where you respond to a threat by beating up on it. Military training works to strengthen this part of your survival reflex.

flight is where you run for the hills to get away from the threat.

freeze is what you do when neither of the above is an option.

In this post, we’re going to discuss the freeze response, the way it happens in the face of an actual threat. Next post, we’ll talk about dissociation, which is what happens when the “freeze” reaction gets stuck, like in PTSD or dissociative disorder.

It’s like this: imagine a goldfish.

It’s in a fishbowl. The cat just jumped on the table and stuck his paw into the bowl. What’s the fishy gonna do?

He’s can’t fight off the cat, and he can’t run away, because he’s in a fishbowl. Poor little fishy. The cat is about to enjoy some fresh sushi.

So – what does the fish do? He freezes; freezing helps him feel less pain, both physically and emotionally.

Freezing might feel like time has slowed down; like what’s happening isn’t real; or like he isn’t really there. The goldfish might feel like he’s floating above his body, watching the cat enjoy his sushi.

Feeling this way is a normal reaction to a situation of extreme, life-threatening danger, where you can’t fight and can’t get away.

If you’re a goldfish who’s about to get eaten by a cat, feeling like you’re floating above your body and the whole thing is not really happening is less terrifying, which is why our reflex is built this way.

But – suppose just as the cat is scooping up the goldfish, someone comes along and screams, startling the cat. Poor little fishy lives, but is scarred by this near-death experience: he might get stuck in this “freeze” reaction. He might end up with severe PTSD, and symptoms that we call dissociation. We’ll talk a bit more about that in the next post.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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Sexual Dysfunction and Relationships, Part II

*Disclaimer: This is a really broad topic, and I’m not a sex therapy expert, so I won’t be able to cover everything that’s relevant. Most of my patients are male and heterosexual, so I’m addressing the topic from that perspective. I don’t mean to leave anyone else out, I just try to stick to writing about what I know.

Last post, we discussed how sexual dysfunction can impact how you feel about yourself, and how it might impact your thoughts about getting into a new relationship if you’re single.

If you’re already in a relationship, then that’s a whole different kind of situation: for one thing, you and your significant other probably have some sense of what you can expect of your sex life: how often, where, for how long, and so on.

When your body suddenly decides it’s not going to go along with your established norm, it can be frustrating and confusing to both of you. It’s easy to get sucked into feelings of guilt, shame, embarrassment… And those feelings just make it more likely that you pull away from your partner even more. The more you pull away, the more disconnected from each other you feel, and the more difficult it can be to work on this.

So – it’s important for both of you to realize that it’s not your fault, or your partner’s fault either. It’s just another part of PTSD. You’re a team. You will deal with this as a team.

Ddon’t allow this issue to stop you from showing affection to each other. Take time to hold hands, look each other in the eye, and smile at each other; cuddle, or drive out to a nice peaceful spot and have a lovely, romantic picnic. These are all examples of ways to feel more connected with each other, and that’s likely to help.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Sexual Dysfunction and Relationships, Part I

*Disclaimer: This is a really broad topic, and I’m not a sex therapy expert, so unfortunately, I won’t be able to cover everything that’s relevant. Most of my patients are male and heterosexual, so I’m addressing the topic from that perspective. I don’t mean to leave anyone else out, I just try to stick to writing about what I know.  

So… Judging by the number of pageviews on the last post, it looks like some of you find it less awkward to discuss sexual dysfunction on the blog than in person.

Good – you need to have access to this information, even if you feel too embarrassed to ask about it face-to-face.

You know, I briefly considered writing the last post about Dave the Zebra. I thought, maybe that would be less awkward for people?

However – Dave the Zebra is actually named after Dave the Dude. I value my friendship with Dave the Dude. Somehow, he didn’t like the idea of putting his name in the same sentence as sexual dysfunction, in a blog read by thousands of people. Go figure, eh?

Well – let’s talk about it. (Dave the Dude, you can relax. I’m keeping you totally out of this…)

In the last post, we talked about how and why PTSD can mess up your sex life.

Today, we’re going to discuss how the mess in your sex life can have a ripple effect on the rest of your life.

Sexual dysfunction messes up your relationships, starting with the relationship that you have with yourself.

(Hey – can we try to focus please? I’m talking about the emotional relationship with yourself – not the five-knuckle-shuffle relationship with yourself! …Not that there’s anything wrong with that…)

Look – who you are in bed is part of your identity. You don’t need to go through life being Mr. Don Juan – even if you’re a relatively vanilla kind of dude, you have a sense of how your plumbing works and what you enjoy doing with it.

When that changes, it can have a big impact on how you feel about yourself. We live in a culture where, as a guy, you’re supposed to be obsessed with sex, or so the media would have you believe. So a lot of guys end up feeling like they’re somehow less of a man when stuff like this happens. You might feel angry and ashamed, and try not to think about it.

If you’re a single dude, this might really have an impact on your confidence about getting into a new relationship. You might question whether a woman would want to be with you, if things don’t quite work the way they used to.

(Answer: yes, the right woman would still want to be with you. The right woman would love you for your sense of humour, your smile, and whatever else it is that makes you awesome in her eyes. And you can sweep her off her feet with flowers and chocolates and kisses and dancing and backrubs and… Well, when it actually comes to sex, most women like all that stuff that most guys rush through to get to the main course. So, serve up a really good appetizer, and she won’t really miss the main course, you catch my drift?)

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Spouses want to know: PTSD and Sexual Dysfunction

So – guess what we’re talking about today? (Go ahead, check the title again). That’s right.

*Disclaimer: This is a really broad topic, so I won’t be able to cover everything that’s relevant. The question was originally asked by a female spouse of a male veteran. Most of my patients are male and heterosexual, so I’m addressing the topic from that perspective. I don’t mean to leave anyone else out, I just try to stick to writing about what I know.

In person, some of the patients that I work with find this really awkward to discuss.

Well – look on the bright side: this is a blog! You don’t have to ask this stuff in person! All the answers, none of the awkwardness!

The research is pretty clear that there’s a link between PTSD and sexual dysfunction. Most studies show that in veterans with PTSD, about 8 to 9 out of every 10 have some sort of sexual dysfunction. That’s much higher than combat veterans without PTSD, and higher than veterans with other mental health diagnoses. “Sexual dysfunction” can be a whole list of different problems – including having less sexual desire; erectile dysfunction; premature ejaculation, or inability to reach orgasm.

8 to 9 out of every ten. That means that, if you have PTSD and you don’t have some sort of sexual dysfunction – you’re the exception.

If you didn’t know that before, then it’s important that you know this about your body, and what PTSD can do to it. It’s not you, it’s not your fault, it’s not because you’re doing something wrong. It’s not your partner’s fault either. Add it to the long list of things you dislike about PTSD.

But – let’s talk about how and why this happens, and then, most importantly, let’s talk about what to do about it.

First, the “why”: remember that PTSD is survival reflex on overdrive; remember how we talked about reflex making all your big muscle groups tense up? Yeah – apparently, your survival reflex doesn’t consider that part of your body as a big muscle… Go figure.

Basically, reflex thinks that anything that doesn’t help you fight or flee is a waste of energy.

PTSD also makes you feel anxious and hyper-alert pretty much all the time, and that makes it hard to get in the mood and stay in the mood for long enough. Many people who have PTSD also feel disconnected and detached from loved ones, and that can make it hard for both partners to get in the right headspace. Increased anger and irritability can also put a damper on your relationship, and that can make the physical part of your relationship suffer too.

…Sounds pretty bad, huh?

Yeah… I know…

It can get better. Not magically, overnight better, but slowly and with some work – it can get better.

(Yes, pills can help. Talk to your doctor about getting some. But don’t expect pills to be a quick, easy, magic cure-all.)

First – go to therapy, and work on learning to manage your PTSD. When you learn more about how to manage your symptoms, this will make a difference.

Next – consider couples therapy. Especially if you’ve been struggling with this stuff for a long time, chances are there’s a lot of misunderstandings and hurt feelings from both of you that are driving a wedge between you. Couples therapy may help you to reconnect and feel closer, and that might help.

Third – don’t give up. Don’t lose hope. As long as you’re willing to try, things can get better.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Spouses want to know: “He doesn’t want to talk about his PTSD”

Well, hello again, everyone!

Today’s question is: “He doesn’t want to talk about it [his PTSD], or tell people. But I don’t think he has anything to be ashamed of, and I think it will help people understand why he is acting this way. What should I do?”

First, a disclaimer: I usually try to write in a way that applies as widely as possible. This time, I’m answering a reader’s question, so not everyone might relate. I know that not everyone who has PTSD is male, or married. If you have a different question you’d like me to answer in a post, please let me know.

This reader’s point of view goes sort of like this:

“Honey, you have nothing to be ashamed of; you didn’t choose to get sick, this happened to you. It’s no more shameful than a physical injury. I want to tell people so that when you need your space, they can be more understanding.”

Makes perfect sense, right? So – why is her husband (and maybe yours) so adamant that he doesn’t want anyone to know?

Because being able to talk about it happens at a point in his healing called acceptance, and he’s not there yet.

Because he’s still used to being Superman, and it’s hard to wrap his head around the idea of being this “sick guy” who needs to be fussed over.

Because he’s sick and tired of being sick and tired, and talking about it just reminds him when sometimes, he’d just like to forget.

Because talking about a problem is the way we women naturally tend to cope. Guys like to fix things, and if they can’t fix it, they don’t want to talk about it.

Because facts and feelings are two different things – so his head may understand that this illness is not his fault, but he may still feel shame, guilt, and anger at himself for “allowing” this to happen to him.  He may feel broken or weak, and helpless that he can’t just “buck up” and shake this thing off.

If he’s sick enough that he can’t work right now, he may be struggling with the fact that he can’t work to provide for his family.

If his illness has led to out-of-character temper outbursts that have frightened you and the kids, he may have feelings of shame and guilt about that, too.

And thinking about it all is just so painful and overwhelming, that he just can’t. Not because he’s being to be stubborn, but because it’s all just too much.

So… That leaves you, the spouse, in a bit of a conundrum: his behaviour is different, and maybe he can’t attend family functions, so friends and family are asking what’s wrong. Yes, it would be a lot easier if he was ready to talk about it – but he’s not there yet, and pressuring him won’t speed his healing process.

So – what do you do?

You take care of you. This is tough on you – so get support from other spouses who can relate, and consider getting some counselling yourself, to help you cope.

You can be helpful by doing other things, like offering a smile or a hug. If he’s okay with it, maybe the two of you can talk with his therapist about what might be fun, trigger-free things for the two of you to do as a couple, or things to do as a family – because making life seem a little more “normal” might be just the ray of hope that both of you need to see that life can go on.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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“I know I’m safe, so why am I still freaking out???”

This question is important, and it comes up a lot.

Okay – for me to explain this, you’ll have to imagine that your brain is a grapefruit.

(Hey – it’s either that, or this becomes a hard-core neurobiology lesson where I start throwing around Latin words that are harder to pronounce than my last name…)

…So – we’ll go with the grapefruit then?

The peel of the grapefruit is the “gray matter”, or cortex. It’s got all your smarts – this is where you analyze, make decisions, set priorities, and so on. You’re conscious only of the stuff that the gray matter does: the other parts of your brain do their thing behind the scenes, like an autopilot.

The fruit part of the grapefruit is the “white matter”. It’s a messenger – it sends ideas back and forth and makes your brain work quickly to translate a thought into an action.

The grapefruit’s got a few seeds in it. One of these seeds is a little thing called the amygdala. (This will be the only Latin word I’m throwing out there today, promise.) The amygdala sets off your fight/flight/freeze reaction, in response to anything that reminds it of a threat. It’s a reflex, so it doesn’t ask your permission before it goes off.

So – how is it that you can realize that everything’s okay, but still find your body reacting like you’re in danger?

Simple – the realizing that there’s no threat is coming from the peel of your grapefruit. But, at the same time, one of the seeds (your amygdala) is reminded of a threat, so it’s reacting as if you were in danger. Two different parts of your brain are doing two different things, at the same time.

It’s really important to know that this is how your brain works. If you don’t know, you might end up doing one of two things:

1. Telling yourself, “I should just suck it up and stop being so (bleep)ing scared, and what the (bleep) is wrong with me?”.

Yeah… Cause that’ll help, right? Fear is part of a reflex; beating up on yourself for it is sort of like blaming yourself for letting your toenails grow; you didn’t have a choice, so quit blaming yourself, it’s not your fault. Plus – talking to yourself this way just makes you feel shame and guilt, which feeds your depression. Do yourself a favour, and remind yourself that you are not to blame for your reflex.

2. The other option is that you start thinking, “I’m feeling so nervous that there must be something to be scared of and I’m just not seeing it”.

…If you want a quick, easy recipe for freaking yourself right out, then telling yourself that there are invisible dangers that you cannot sense is a good way to do it…

However, if you want to help yourself relax instead – then remind yourself that you’re feeling nervous because a very primitive part of your brain is being triggered to think of a threat; it’s not very smart, so it can’t tell the difference between real and imagined threats.

So, how do you try to stop it? You tell yourself that it’s just your threat reflex sounding a false alarm; then use your relaxation skills to help yourself to relax. (Yes, this is exactly why I keep droning on about how important it is to practice relaxation regularly…)

It’s simple – but simple and easy are two very different things. You’ll need a lot of practice to make it a habit to think this way, but once you’re successful, it will be a helpful tool.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Spouses want to know: PTSD, Withdrawing, and How to Respond

Today’s question is: “What’s the best way to deal with withdrawal by a spouse with PTSD – call them on it, or what????”

As luck would have it, just as I was sitting down to write this post, I also received the flipside of the question:

“My wife more or less just gets mad at me when I leave the room to cool down; she says I’m running away to hide… How can I help her understand?”

If you’re the spouse of someone who has PTSD, it can be lonely and frustrating to be married to someone who keeps pulling a disappearing act. Even at the best of times, you might feel rejected and pushed away. At the worst of times, when your partner takes off while the kids are screaming and dinner’s burning, you might feel downright abandoned that your partner isn’t pulling their weight.

An important part of how you cope is to get some support for YOU – whether that means therapy, peer support, family or a babysitter to help if you have young kids, whatever you might need. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and you need to be able to vent to someone who won’t judge you or your partner.

As a spouse, you have every right to feel angry and frustrated – BUT, remind yourself that you’re angry and frustrated with your partner’s illness, not with your partner. If your partner is withdrawing because they are overwhelmed or triggered, this is very different from running away because they’re a lazy, selfish jerk who won’t lift a finger to help out, or because they don’t care about your feelings. Don’t confuse illness with selfishness; don’t treat one as if it was the other.

On the other hand, the stuff that’s going on inside the head of a person with PTSD is more than most of us can imagine. If it sometimes seems like your spouse with PTSD is only going through the motions of day-to-day life, it’s because at that moment, that might be the best they can do. Chances are, they realize that they aren’t there enough for you, and they carry a lot of guilt and shame about not being able to do more. They may be feeling helpless, worthless, and angry that they can’t do more to beat this thing. Feeling this way doesn’t help them get a leg up on coping – it just pushes them down more.

The best way to try to cope is together, as a team. Realize that you’re not angry at each other – you’re both angry at the PTSD, and at what it’s doing to your family. Thinking this way puts you on the same side, and that makes it easier to support each other.

Here’s some statements to try out:

Spouse of person with PTSD: “I know you’re doing your best; I’m not blaming you. I just hate that this happened to you. I hate that it gets in the way of things you would like to do.”

Person with PTSD: “I hate that it gets so bad that sometimes crawling into my shell is all I can do. I wish I could just shake this thing off. I know it’s not fair to you.”

Hug each other. Support each other. It won’t magically fix things, but it will get easier if you and your spouse feel like you’re on the same team, and you have each other’s back.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Spouses want to know: “Why isn’t the medication helping?”

Today’s question is, “If my husband is medicated, shouldn’t we see some signs of him getting better?

Great question, and thanks for asking!

…And you might be frustrated that I don’t have a quick, easy, one-size-fits-all answer.

First of all – let me just clarify: as a clinical psychologist, I don’t prescribe medication. That doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to medication; I have some patients who won’t take medication no matter what, and I respect that. I also work with others who consider their medication to be an important part of the mix that works with for them. I respect whatever path to recovery is the best fit for each individual person.

So, you might wonder, what is it, exactly, that medication is supposed to help with? Well – it depends on the diagnosis and the type of medication Antidepressants do something very different than anti-anxiety medication, for instance.

In general, meds are supposed to dial back your symptoms. Finding the right dose often takes a bit of trial and error; antidepressants in particular can take up to six weeks to build up in your system and start to make an impact. And you need to start off at a lower dose and gradually build it up to the dose that you need, to give your body a chance to adjust. So, it can take a while to get to the point where the medication has its full effect. When it comes to finding the best medication for you, it also might take a bit of trial and error – you may need to try a few different medications before finding the best one for you. So, medication might seem like a quick solution, but like anything else – you need to hunker down and arm yourself with a lot of patience, because it might take a while.

The other issue is, pills don’t give you skills: they don’t teach you to understand what’s happening to your brain,  or where it comes from or how to cope with it.

So – in a nutshell, it may take some time before you start to see a difference. You might have to try a few before you find the right one. And medication alone is frequently not enough to change behaviour.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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Depression: Defending Yourself Against The Bully Inside Your Head

So – how ya doin’, folks?

Has your depression magically disappeared from the couple pearls of wisdom I shared last week?

No, of course not. I hope you didn’t expect it to. Because if you read last week’s post and thought, “That’s easy, I can do this overnight”, and then started beating up on yourself when it didn’t work out that way – folks, that’s just your depression messing with you again. Digging yourself out of depression takes a lot of practice and hard work.

See – depression would be hard enough to deal with on its own. To make things worse, it often travels with friends, like PTSD or chronic pain. Or, you might be dealing with the trifecta: depression, PTSD and chronic pain.

Depression often sets in after something bad has happened in your life: stuff like going through a trauma; suffering a serious injury that changes how you can live your life; losing your job; losing a loved one; losing your marriage. You know, all the stuff that they write country songs about…

Then – just to be mean – depression starts comparing the new, not-so-improved you to the old you. And then, it starts nagging on you about how new-you should be able to live up to all the stuff that old-you was able to do. It keeps telling you how it’s so simple, and what’s wrong with you, you should be able to just suck it up, pull yourself together, and get on with it. And if you can’t do it, then depression starts telling you that you’re worthless, useless, and you should feel guilt and shame.

Honestly – depression is feeding you a bunch of… um, fresh manure.

When you can’t do the stuff you used to do because you’re sick, it’s healthy to grieve that loss. If you love to swim and you missed a whole summer of swimming because your leg was in a cast, you might feel frustrated and disappointed. But there’s a difference between those feelings, and calling yourself stupid and lazy for not making your bone heal faster. There’s a big difference between disliking the circumstances, and unfairly blaming yourself for them.

Depression also doesn’t give you any credit for how hard it is to actually live with depression. Stop for a second and consider that there are days when you deserve a medal just for getting out of bed.

Imagine you’re watching speed skating on TV (why speed skating? It just popped into my head, and it’ll work with my example, so let’s just roll with it).

There’s a bunch of guys racing and they’re all ridiculously super fast. And then, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay behind them, there’s this one dude who’s going so slow, he’s barely putting one foot in front of the other.

Oh – except he’s carrying a backpack, filled with 500 pounds of rocks.

So – who do you respect more, the bunch of dudes at the front, or the one guy managing to stay on his feet with the giant bag full of rocks?

(Hint: Vote for the guy with the rocks, he’s pretty incredible.)

And if you vote for him – try to also realize that all the stuff you’re dealing with is a lot like carrying around a bag with 500 pounds of rocks. And try to respect  yourself a little more.)

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Benjamin Yost, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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More on Depression: The Bully Inside Your Head

Hi again!

So – last week, we talked a bit about depression.

(Well okay – I talked about depression; I seem to do most of the talking around here. You know I welcome your comments, right? Feel free to start a discussion…)

Anyhow – I was saying that your brain runs on juice, and that depression sucks out all the juice that makes your brain run.

Basically – depression is like a big bully inside your head. It sits there and calls you names. It tells you stuff like “you’re useless”, or “you’re worthless”, or “you’re not good enough”. It compares the person you are now to the “old you”. It tells you to feel guilty and ashamed of who you are now.

Depression is so good at messing with you because not only does it tell you all that stuff – it also makes you believe that nonsense.

Don’t get sucked in!!!

Unless this is the first post that you’ve read on this blog, then you probably realize by now that I repeat myself when I have something important to say. I said this last week, but I’m saying it again: Depression is an illness; it would be great if there was a “juice gauge” on the side of your head, like a gas gauge in your car, so you could actually see when your brain is running low on juice – then it would be easier to accept that depression is real.

Sadly, there’s no juice gauge. Instead, you’ll just have to trust me. (I’m some chick you met on the internet, so trusting me has got to be a good idea, right?)

Depression is an illness, not a choice. Here’s a couple of ways to fight back:

– “if it were a physical illness“: Ask yourself this: If you were physically ill and not able to get stuff done, would you be saying nasty stuff to yourself about it? No, of course not. You’d be annoyed and frustrated that you’re sick, but you wouldn’t blame yourself. Well, depression is a physical illness – it’s a juice deficiency, and that part is physical. You didn’t ask for this. So try to quit beating up on yourself about it.

– “if it were happening to a friend“: Ask yourself this: If one of your friends were struggling with this, would you be telling them that they’re useless and worthless? If you have peer support, you probably know some buddies who struggle with this stuff. When they do, you probably tell them you’ve been there too, to take it one day at a time, and to do their best and take it easy on themselves.

You say the nice stuff to your buddies because that’s supportive; you say that mean stuff to yourself because that’s depression.  Talking to yourself like you’re talking to a buddy is a way to cheat depression and offer yourself some support. If you can offer yourself some support, you might be able to put some juice back in your tank, so you feel up to doing more stuff, and slowly digging your way out of depression.

Sounds so simple, right? Yeah, well simple and easy are two different things, and this is going to be a LOT of work. For a lot of folks – too much to do on your own. If you’re struggling to get better on your own, don’t just sit there and tell yourself you should be able to do this alone – that’s your depression bullying you again. Most folks can’t do this on their own, and you don’t have to. Get some peer support, and then get yourself to therapy. It’ll help you get better.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Murray Chappell, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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On the Importance of Peer Support

Hi again!

Last post, I was talking about depression; so, you might think with peer support, I’m sort of jumping all over the place. I’m not; peer support is actually an important part of coping with depression. Here’s why:

As soldiers, you’re used to being part of a unit, and working closely with a group of other people to whom you can relate. That’s one of the things that makes a psychological injury all the more difficult: it’s such a lonely, isolating experience. Often, you feel like you failed somehow, and like you’re the only one who ever felt this way. You might tell yourself that you’re supposed to be stronger than this. Beating up on yourself like this is the downward spiral of depression that we were just talking about in the last post.

Dealing with this stuff on your own is like trying to fight a war all by yourself, against an enemy you’ve never been trained to fight. As a psychologist, and even as a blogger, I can try to help you understand this new enemy, and help you learn to fight back. What I can’t do as effectively, as a civi who’s never been there, is convince you that your symptoms are not about weakness or failure, it’s about what happened to you. Don’t get me wrong – I try. I repeat that stuff all the time. And you know what happens? You roll your eyes at me. (Yeah, I saw you. It’s okay.)

As far as you’re concerned, my job is to make you feel better, so when I start saying all that nice fluffy that it’s not your fault, it’s sort of like your Momma telling you that you’re handsome – you figure it’s just my job to say nice stuff to make you feel better…

It’s easier to win a war if you have buddies fighting alongside you; and that’s what peer support does. Getting together with a bunch of other folks who have been there and gone through it accomplishes what I can’t: You meet others who have been through the same kind of stuff and have had the same kind of reactions.

Depression makes you blame yourself unfairly, but when you can be understanding to someone else who’s going through the same sort of stuff, it suddenly starts to get real that, hey – it you think their symptoms aren’t their fault, then maybe yours aren’t your fault, either. Psychological injury, whether depression, PTSD, or whatever else you’ve got on your plate – it happens when you go through the kind of stuff you went through, and it happens no matter who you are.

Peer support gives you a chance to let go of the feelings of shame and guilt. And it gives you a chance to fight back as a team, which is what you’re used to doing as a soldier.

If you’re in Canada, you can find a peer support community through http://www.osiss.ca/ They provide some great services and supports, and I hope you check them out.

Online, there’s a number of peer support communities on Facebook – if you’re interested, you can link to many of these through my Facebook profile.  Scroll down to “groups”, on the left-hand side.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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The Downward Spiral of Depression

We’re going to switch gears a little bit today.

So far, we’ve talked a lot about PTSD. But PTSD and depression often go together like peanut butter and jelly; so, we need to talk about depression.

Here’s how it works it a nutshell: your brain runs on juice. (Geeks might throw around big fancy words like dopamine and serotonin, but it’s juice, and it makes your brain run).

When you’re well, your brain has enough juice to make you feel like doing stuff. You might feel like going for a bike ride, having coffee with a friend, or picking up your guitar and strumming it. Hey – you might even feel like doing some chores around the house. (This last one doesn’t happen to me personally very often, but I’m just saying – it might happen to you). When you get stuff done, you feel proud or satisfied; those good feelings make more juice, so tomorrow and the next day, your brain has the juice to do it all over again.

When you have depression, this all comes to a screeching halt. Depression means your brain doesn’t have enough juice to feel like doing anything. So, it might be a gorgeous day out, but you just can’t bring yourself to go out for a ride. You stare at your guitar; it stares back at you. You just can’t get the “oomph” to pick it up and strum the darn thing.

But – while you sit there not having enough juice to actually do anything, your head keeps making lists of all the stuff you should be doing right now. So – instead of doing stuff and feeling good about it, you’re just sitting there, feeling like guilt and shame that you aren’t getting anything done.

These feelings of guilt and shame are part of depression, and they just suck more juice out of your brain. So tomorrow, you wake up having even less energy to do anything. And, you wake up kicking yourself over having wasted the whole day today not getting anything done. And it gets worse the next day, and the next day, and next. That, in a nutshell, is the downward spiral of depression.

Okay – so here’s how we begin to turn it around:

First, understand that it is a real illness; one of depression’s strongest weapons against you is that it convinces you that you there’s nothing wrong with you, and that you’re just being lazy. So – first off, please know that depression is not laziness.

How do I know? Simple – if you were lazy you wouldn’t care that you’re not getting stuff done, you’d be happy to leave it for someone else to do. If it’s eating you up that you can’t seem to get moving, then you’re not lazy.

Look – if you broke your leg and fell behind on getting stuff done, you’d get it that this is not your fault. Depression’s more tricky than a broken leg for two reasons: one, because you can’t see it; and two, because it makes you more self-critical, so you blame yourself unfairly. But you’re not lazy, you’re sick. Beating up on yourself about it doesn’t fix anything, it just makes you more sick.

Easier said than done, I know. But, understanding is the first step to fixing. So read through this post a couple of times, soak it in, and we’ll get started on standing up to your depression.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. It’s not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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