How to Spot the Early Symptoms of PTSD

Get help early to increase your chances of recovery.

Being a police officer taught me that tragedy could strike in an instant. Someone’s life could be going well, and an accident or disaster destroys them.

Understanding the fragility of life taught me to respect it. But I still thought such things only happened to other people. We’d never leave the house if we didn’t deny our vulnerability. So, when PTSD derailed my own life, I was in a state of shock, which gave way to a decade-long depression.

For 15 years, PTSD devastated my life. It ruined my physical health, destroyed me mentally, and wrecked my relationships. It stole my sense of self and took all the goodness out of my world.

I’ve recovered better than I ever thought possible. Now, I want to spare others from going through the same hell. If you can spot the symptoms of PTSD early, you stand a better chance of a fast recovery.

This is how PTSD broke into my life.

Flashbacks.

These were a core symptom to me and the most terrifying for me and my loved ones. The main incident which caused my PTSD was the double suicide of two teenage girls. They jumped from the top of a tower block, and I was the first police officer on the scene. I had to guard their bodies for hours until the horror cost me my sanity.

My flashbacks could be caused by being near the scene or seeing someone who looked like the victim. They could also be caused by well less obvious triggers, which I didn’t recognize until it was too late. During the flashbacks, I thought I was back at the scene and re-experienced it as if it were real.

An argument with my dad caused my first flashback. He tried to snap me out of my pain by saying, “I don’t give a fuck about those girls.” Not his kindest or most tactful moment.

The insensitivity and crudeness of his statement took me straight back to the scene. I curled into a ball on the sofa, sobbing and convulsing. The same girls were jumping to their deaths in front of me over and over. I felt the cold and the wind of the night.

The flashback lasted about 20 minutes, after which I couldn’t move through exhaustion. It felt like a demon had passed through me.

Another time, a similar thing happened because I smelt a decomposing sheep. It reminded me of a hanging I attended.

My flashbacks occurred because I was unable to deal with the incidents consciously. My brain was trying to process them, but I still felt all the pain and danger from the nights in question.

To overcome your flashbacks, work out your triggers. A big mistake is to go out of your way to avoid them. If you depend on avoidance to stay healthy, your world will shrink as you avoid more and more things. With a professional, you should confront the things that terrify you in small stages.

Gradual exposure beats avoidance. It took me 20 years to work that out.

Nightmares.

For years, I had nightmares every night. They always played out in the same way. Instead of being at the tower block, I was in a maze of tower blocks. It was late at night and raining. I had to escape from the maze, but people randomly jumped from the towers, and I had no idea where the jumpers were.

I knew in my dream that if I came across one of the jumpers, I’d go insane and die from shock. I spent the rest of the night tiptoeing around the maze. I always failed to escape, and I always came across the jumpers.

My nightmares took the realism of flashbacks and added a whole new scale of horror to them. Whether I was awake or asleep, nowhere was safe. There was no peace for me anywhere.

Everyone gets occasional nightmares, but if you are getting them regularly, this is an early warning sign to seek help.

Repetitive, distressing images.

I was at a club one night when everyone turned into headless zombies. I had to leave my friend and get outside. Of course, he didn’t understand and thought my drink had been spiked.

No matter what I’m doing throughout the day, the images from the night of the double suicide can pop into my mind. Even now, I still get them.

The difference is that now, these images have only a minimal impact. A few years ago, they’d paralyze me. I’ve learned to accept that I’ll never get the images of that night out of my mind. I saw and experienced things that humans aren’t designed for.

Avoidance and emotional numbing.

I mentioned avoidance earlier, and it’s a huge problem. Once we identify our triggers, we try to spare ourselves pain and avoid them.

But at the peak of my avoidance, there were whole towns and cities I couldn’t visit. To go out for dinner with my partner meant taking an enormous detour. Even then, I’d be triggered by buildings that LOOKED like the ones I’d seen.

My family scanned TV shows before I watched them, looking for triggering topics.

I couldn’t see my friends because they were police officers.

I’d become a prisoner of my own making. My world was so small I rarely left the house and was pitiful, sitting around in my pajamas all day.

Emotional numbing was a gradual process. By the end of my police career, I hardly cared about any victim of crime. I had compassion fatigue. I was sick of everybody and thought everyone was lying to me. I was protecting myself from further heartbreak, but it turned me into a callous monster.

When I left the police, it took several years to get the bitterness and anger out of me. I’m finally back to my old self and loved ones stuck with me, but it was a long road.

Again, instead of avoidance, find an expert and work on gradual exposure to the things that scare you.

Angry outbursts and irritability.

The lowest point of my life was when I pushed my mum. It’s such a profound source of shame and guilt that I don’t even remember doing it. My mum told me we were arguing, and I pushed her into the wall. She told me to pack my bags as I was living with my parents then. My dad came home, and somehow, we resolved the situation.

It unnerves me how I don’t remember any of it. No amount of apologies is enough, but this is the ugly face of PTSD.

Beyond that outburst was a constant lower level of irritability. I would snap at everyone and reject people reaching out to me.

One of the big points of contention was that my mum was desperate to get me therapy, but I resisted every step of the way. I didn’t believe I deserved to get better, and I didn’t want to relive my trauma. This was years before I realized that confronting my demons was the only way forward.

My family never gave up on me, even when I wanted them to. Instead of getting help from a trained professional, I searched for answers at the bottom of a bottle.

Conclusion.

There’s no sugarcoating it. PTSD made my life a living nightmare for 15 years. My recovery combined grit, determination, love from my family, and luck.

In 2003, I had EMDR therapy shortly after my initial trauma, and it helped. For several months, I was symptom-free. But I made the mistake of going back to the police, and more traumas piled on. With many traumas, I tried EMDR again, and it was useless.

My case stresses the importance of early intervention. The quicker you seek help after symptoms emerge, the better your chances of recovery.

Yet, it’s never too late. I got better after 15 years. I write to show you’re never too old or broken to recover. You never know when the miracle will happen. Your job is to keep going. Give time and opportunity the chance to work their magic.

Stay in the fight.

Resources to get you started.

Online PTSD Therapy:(Get a 20% discount using the code THERAPY20. I get a small commission).

PTSD UK: a resource hub and charity.

Anxiety and Depression Association of America: PTSD resources.

Click here for my free guide on what to look for in a therapist.