2006-05-17T10:58:00.000-07:00

I think that the reason I went onto psychiatric nursing all those years ago, was to sort out my own buried stuff. I knew that I had a horrendous childhood, and I new that I was really suffering from a lot of physical complaints. Headaches, tiredness and just plain aching malaise. On the surface I seemed to have it all. Great husband and kids. Great house, you know the typical false image of someone who looks like they really have it together.

More and more I was finding myself going to bed on my days off. The more I worked with abuse survivors, the worse I felt. Interestingly, it took being assaulted by a psychotic patient to really blow apart the whole facade. I sustained a black eye and a concussion, but I was really much worse off that my physical appearance would tell. I tried to keep working and not tell anyone about the horrific nightmares, the panic attacks, and the feelings that I just wanted to find a deep dark whole and crawl into it.

The headaches grew worse, and all of the specialists said that I had post-concussion syndrome, and that I would be fine. What I know now, is that I was suffering from PTSD. The whole physical assault by that patient had unleashed years of memories that I had tried so hard to put aside.

2006-05-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

I guess I am a slow learner. You would think that a 53 year old RN who have suffered from depression and anxiety for most of her life would understand a few basic facts:

Depression is a real illness
Intellectualizing it doesn't make it go away
Positive thinking does not cure a during a clinical depression
Antidepressants work for me if I take them
I can't be my own therapist
You can run, but you can't hide ( for very long )
Some people will never understand

Anne Hedonia