Feb 22 2009
Healing PTSD: Ten Reasons Not to Talk About It; And the One Reason You Really, Really Should

So, here we are, into February. Welcome to the month of my birth and my original motivation to heal my PTSD (I was determined to be PTSD-free by my 40th birthday).
The second month of the year means we’re onto Resolution No. 2 on our list of 12 Healing PTSD Resolutions for 2009. For the next month we’ll focus on the following healing resolution: I WILL TALK. So, exercise that jaw, warm up that tongue, for the next four weeks your quest to progress healing depends on how loosely you let the language flow.
I know this isn’t easy. By the time I was released from the hospital my lip lockdown had already begun. I could not talk about what I had experienced – for so many reasons:
One, I was overwhelmed by what had happened during my illness and could not effectively process all of that emotion at once.
Two, I was overwhelmed by the ferocity of the emotions themselves. I had never felt so strongly or fiercely and didn’t know what to do with the near-to-crazy feeling that kind of emotion brought on.
Three, I was terrified by what had occurred and could not assimilate that continued feeling of terror into a normal minute.
Four, I was so very afraid of trying to speak about what I thought, felt, experienced and endured. Letting it all stay cooped up in the dark of my mind seemed safer than letting it out into the light of my new, moving forward day.
Five, I was on the brink of a great psychological meltdown. I was certain that trying to examine everything would bring on an episode that would completely annihilate the thin thread by which my sanity was hanging.
Six, I didn’t have the vocabulary for explaining how I felt or what I had experienced.
Seven, I didn’t know how anyone would react to what I had to say. I thought people would be … unable to embrace the fact that, for example, I had experienced leaving my body.
Eight, I wanted to pretend my illness had never happened. Simply, I wanted to exit the hospital and leave behind – as my parting gift – all of my memories, thoughts and experiences. (A nice idea; it doesn’t work.)
Nine, I thought moving on was strong. I thought moving beyond trauma meant not having to talk about it. I thought being brave meant immediately letting go of the experience, which included eliminating any impulse to have a chat about it.
Ten, I thought talking would keep the past alive. Silence, I thought, would kill the beast. (Little did I know…..)
So there they are, ten of the mistaken thoughts I believed immediately following my trauma – ten of the misguided thoughts and beliefs I carried with me for the next 25 years. (And oh, what lovely, fun, happy-for-us-all years they were.) The more I stuck to this “Don’t speak!” line of thinking, the worse my PTSD became. The worse the PTSD became, the more I stuck to this thinking until the vortex of the cycle became so intense my whole world crashed. And then I rebuilt it, word by word.
But that doesn’t have to be the way you accomplish healing. There’s no reason for you to crash and burn before you begin to heal. YOU can see the error of my ways, find the similarities in your own thinking, and make the changes now that are necessary to put you on the right path.
There are many more reasons why you won’t want to talk. Feel free to list your own in the comments section below.
And then, begin to accept that for all the reasons you don’t want to speak about your trauma, here’s the one reason you really, really should:
There is no way to heal if we remain in isolation, or if we allow our silence to isolate us.
This month your goal will be to break your silence – and if you’ve already broken it, to amplify your voice. Get ready, people. You’ll be surprised by the sound and strength of your own voice.
(photo: Pascale PirateChickan)
Hello Dear Michelle,
I was just going to look at a blog to sense the length it should be. Once I glanced at your’s, I had to read it. Please do not take offense; had I not been acutely aware of my not having actually written this, I would have thought my subconscious had done so.
My very first blog is in construction, as I speak. (or write) It was really my good fortune to read your article. We surely must not be a minority. My feelings and memories, of a nightmarish trauma, did not find me in the hospital, but should have. My terror, shame, and disgust with the situation, prevented my telling anyone.
You express yourself beautifully, humanely, and simplistically enough, for others to read without fear. It is apparent to me you are not simplistic; you have purely found a way to make your point, while appealing to all levels of readers.
This is not easy for me to say, since I have a large ego. I want you to know everything you have stated is solely to help others, and there is nothing that does not ring true for me.
Lovely job, and thank you.
THANK YOU!