Trigger warning: child loss/PTSD
Recently, I penned a piece about a viral meme that kept appearing in my social feeds, triggering my PTSD as a grieving mother. I never (and still don’t) expect everyone to fully grasp what it’s like to have this stress disorder triggered by something seemingly trivial, like a meme. However, I had hoped that by being open and vulnerable about my experience, others might respond with empathy and understanding.
Regrettably, I was mistaken. Usually, I avoid reading comments, but this time I did, driven by a misplaced hope for compassion. The response was disheartening: people who hadn’t experienced my trauma were quick to dismiss my pain.
“I’m sorry for your loss, BUT…”
“You should probably work on your PTSD.” (Thanks for the insight, Captain Obvious.)
“You can’t be offended by everything; this isn’t offensive.”
As someone who has endured the unimaginable loss of a child, I understand that others cannot dictate what should hurt me. I don’t control what triggers my symptoms, so it’s absurd for someone with no first-hand experience to presume to do so.
To me, that meme wasn’t merely offensive; it was deeply painful. It resurrected my worst memories and affected me for weeks. It trivialized my most profound trauma. The dismissive comments only heightened my sense that this mental health condition—PTSD—is widely misunderstood.
While the stigma surrounding various mental illnesses has shifted recently, with conditions like depression, anxiety, and OCD becoming more openly discussed, there remain exceptions. Child loss PTSD is one of them. Unlike much of the dialogue around PTSD, mine doesn’t stem from a history of abuse, nor from the stress of caring for premature infants. My trauma is rooted in the heart-wrenching memory of losing my daughter and the agonizing days that followed.
Unfortunately, many shy away from discussing my pain because it touches on the universal fear of death. Society often turns away from those who have experienced such profound loss, leaving individuals like me feeling isolated.
I don’t typically bring up my battle with PTSD in casual conversations. It’s uncomfortable for me and for others. But when the topic arises, I can sense the unease and disbelief in the room. I often feel marginalized, as if my experience makes me an outcast.
This reaction is frustrating. Why is it easier to discuss other mental health issues while child loss PTSD remains taboo? I long to share how normal my PTSD is given my circumstances, and I feel it’s a natural response for anyone who has lost a child. Yet, I often find myself unheard, as people avoid the conversation due to their own discomfort with the subject.
I acknowledge that the root of my PTSD is unchangeable, but my symptoms can be managed. This illness isn’t contagious, nor does it have to dominate every interaction. My PTSD is not something to fear; it is simply a condition I live with.
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Summary:
Child loss PTSD is a deeply misunderstood condition that often goes unacknowledged in society. The struggle to communicate this pain is compounded by others’ discomfort and dismissal, leading to isolation for those affected. While the trauma is unfixable, the symptoms are manageable. Understanding and empathy are crucial for those navigating this journey.
Keyphrase: child loss PTSD
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