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4:56 p.m. - Wednesday, May. 19, 2004 here we go againSometimes the almighty gods of Diaryland frown upon me and blank out my screen. Case in point: I just had 1/2 of an entry typed out w/ references and POOF my IE went screwy and so the story went... What I had said is that I feel much better than I did yesterday. I also mentioned that I do not handle stress as well as I had before 9/11 and I realized that today while watching the 9/11 report on NBC. (You know, Rudy and Tom giving their synopses of what they did and their contributions... and yesterday's fire chiefs' speaking about their responsibilities... blah blah blah) It's a whole Senate hearing on tv. But, sitting there brought some of the emotion back. I am gladder than glad that I don't sit outside counting the planes that fly overhead any longer. Nor do I cry for no reason. Now when I cry, it's usually out of frustration or anger. I'm turning into a girl (bah!!!!) Regardless (and yes, I AM a girl, thanks), I had thought a while back that perhaps I had PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) because I exhibited some of the symptoms. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist incidents, serious accidents, or violent personal assaults like rape. People who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person's daily life. To understand it you have to realize the percentage of people who suffer from it: A national study of American civilians conducted in 1995 estimated that the lifetime prevalence of PTSD was 5% in men and 10% in women. The development of PTSD is also important because: Most people who are exposed to a traumatic, stressful event experience some of the symptoms of PTSD in the days and weeks following exposure. Available data suggest that about 8% of men and 20% of women go on to develop PTSD, and roughly 30% of these individuals develop a chronic form that persists throughout their lifetimes. Here's some statistics on PTSD and it's affects on the American population: Those most likely to develop PTSD are: Moreover, the consequences of a person(s) suffering from PTSD include: So, in a nutshell... Following 9/11 I had a difficult time sleeping. If I could sleep, that is. I gained weight. I was moody and irritable. I couldn't clear my mind to work properly. I cried a lot. I found that I was more sick that year than any other year (6 bad bouts of bronchitis between Nov and Dec, 2001). I also became more depressed. Notice how I say 'more.' My family seems to think I don't have a problem with depression, that it's just hormones or women's problems. However, I know that something's not right. My mood swings way too easily. I get so frustrated at times that I burst out in tears and curl up on the couch and whimper. 1 hour later, I'm fine. I think, and I'm not being mean-spirited or anything, that I inherited it from my aunt. Yeah we all call her crazy, mean, nuts, vicious, but I know she is suffering from BiPolar Disorder. Sometimes I feel so swamped in emotion that I get all anxious and stressed. I also noticed that phobias are emerging more rapidly than before. My fear of heights? Worse. My fear of choking? Definitely worse. (It used to be limited to just pills.) But then again, it could be stress and overworking myself. Who knows. I know I put a lot of stress on myself and at times, I come down on myself a lot. That's a habit. However, don't misread what I wrote. I'm not a danger to myself or others (except telephone solicitors) and I have not ever attempted to physically hurt myself (except by accident and I swear that the desk jumped in my way!). I have been sad. And, I did talk to my doctor about it. She said that it was probably hormones as well. Considering I swear I'm heading for menopause 20 years too early... However, I didn't suffer that Post-Pardum-want-to-kill-my-baby Syndrome. He's alive and snoring in his crib. My other two are weeding. (yes, I've got SOOOOOOOOOME system here and child labor is just the beginning) I just don't feel happy all that often. And, when I do, it's usually because something made me happy. Like a situation or a thing. Regardless, I'm fighting it. As my mom said last night admist my tears of frustration and angst, "We never give up." (Even though sometimes I think that'd be easier...)
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