Post-traumatic stress disorder

 

Fear crept into her and tightened its noose around her heart. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. ‘Post-traumatic stress disorder’ the doctors had called it. Her parents and even her younger sister had nodded wisely. As if they understood anything. AS IF.

‘Post-traumatic stress disorder’- Four meaningless words. All that she knew was that she would never be like the other children. She would never get to run. She would never get to dance at parties. The other kids would stare, they would not include her. She would never get to have a friend to pass a note to during class. She would never get to pretend to take unnecessary trips to the washroom so that she could talk to a friend. Simple things in life. She would never experience them.

Post-traumatic stress disorder – the bane of her life. She would never be able to get in a car again. She had tried, really, but something stopped her each time. A cold voice inside her head telling her to stop, whispering threats, reminding her what had happened the last time she had gotten into a car.

Her parents didn’t force her either. They just looked at her, their eyes full of pity as she stared, unmoving, at the car door. Everyone else would stare at her too. Some with sorry eyes, others with cold eyes, some with inquisitive eyes and others with ashamed eyes.

Post-traumatic stress disorder – Four words that were the difference between ‘it will be okay’ and ‘will it be okay?’. In her case, however, she knew that it would never be okay. The doctors had told her multiple times that she would never be able to walk again. She couldn’t tell herself that it would be okay. But she did know that whatever happened, her family would stand by her. She would be loved.

Post-traumatic stress disorder – It wasn’t her refusing to let go of the past, it was the past refusing to let go of her.