The Daily Battle to Survive Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The fight against the invisible wound that refuses to heal

In October of 2013, I got involved in a traumatic event at work. I had just started my shift working with a local Police Department’s gang unit. We had left the Police Department a little before 3 pm and had not planned to do any gang enforcement that day. I was with two local gang officers planning to grab a burrito dinner.

We were going to go by an apartment that was to be used for an operation the next week. Shortly after leaving the station, we spotted a gang member who was wanted for parole violations.

The clash and shooting

As we turned to go after him, he fled on his bicycle. And during the chase, he led us into an ambush, where he shot at me three times, hitting me once in the leg with a .45 caliber round.

After shooting me, he continued his rampage, breaking into a house where there was a young couple and their baby. The family was eventually able to escape, but during the standoff, he shot a SWAT officer in the head. He survived his wounds, and the gang member turned himself in after several hours.

My physical wounds were terrible but not life-threatening.

Since the bullet went through my leg, I did not require surgery and the physical wounds healed with only minimal lasting nerve damage.

I survived my wounds and realize how lucky I am, it could have been so much worse, but at the time, I had no idea what was in store for me. As I healed from my physical wounds over 09 months, I hardly realized that I would go through that bigger than this, questioning my very existence.

The daymares showed up

My first sign of trouble showed up when I was leaving the hospital. As I saw the outside world through the doors while sitting in a wheelchair, I was extremely scared and terrified for the first time in my life.

The second was when the nightmares started. These were no normal nightmares. The first one was so intense that I stood straight up in bed. These nightmares shook me to the core, but the worst was yet to come.

When the worst started, what I call my ‘daymares’, I had no idea what was happening.

The first happened almost two months after the shooting. I was on my way to the shooting range while it hit me out of nowhere. I was back at the scene of the shooting, and the bullets were whizzing by me.

I could not breathe, the feeling of desperation and emotion started in my gut, and like a wave — a horrible, painful wave — flowed throughout my body. I pulled over, and it took a while to recover. I was scared and confused.

My supervisor recognized it first

These continued to grow in frequency, and I still did not recognize what was happening to me until January of 2014.

That event made me realize that I was dealing with something sinister inside of me and I needed help. Well, honestly, my supervisor recognized it first.

Later, when informed that the shooting was a hit being-taken-out on me, it sent me over the top. I was already feeling responsible for the other officer got shot and what that poor-family went through.

But hearing that — if I was not there, things could go differently — caused me extreme pain. The attacks, what I called my ‘episodes’, increased dramatically in both frequency and strength.

The unbearable episodes

The episodes are the worst things I have ever endured in my life. I would rather be shot again than confronting these attacks. They were physically painful and emotionally draining. I could not think or remember things as they were slowly, day after day, destroying my desire for existence.

I refused to give in to these attacks — just refused to give in — that was not me.

My mindset was that I would not allow this dirtball gang member to defeat me, and I had to prevail. Trust me, it would have been easy to give in, and I could have easily turned to drugs or alcohol, but that was not me.

PTSD cares nothing

The road to just beginning my true-recovery was long and hard. It took a year and a half only to get the Department of Labor to recognize PTSD as part of my injury, and then another 06 months to approve the treatment.

During the time waiting for treatment, the daily assault continued as it was not going to wait for me to get help.

PTSD respects no boundaries, no timeline, nothing.

The episodes continued day after day and would occur everywhere without warning. The people close to me, the people I work with, the people I see at the store have seen me cry. They have witnessed the debilitating and relentless assault I was enduring.

But I refused to give in as I had no choice but to win this battle.

The treatment began

In March of 2016, I finally started receiving treatment for my PTSD. I had sought out a therapist that specializes in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. I had heard about this therapy from other officers and decided it was what I wanted.

EMDR, in laymen terms, is the reprogramming of the traumatic event in your brain.

When you go through something traumatic, your mind tries to store it away as fast as possible to protect you. It causes your brain to transfer the short-term-memory into the long-term-memory improperly.

But it leads to the traumatic event spilling out of your long-term memory while your brain improperly thinking that you are going through the event again. Eventually, it causes a physical reaction that is as painful as hell.

One of the things I did learn about PTSD is that there are numerous symptoms and reactions a person can have. I also realized that it was not a joke or a sign of weakness.

Before experiencing it myself, I felt that people who had issues that affected their minds were weak and looking for attention. The reality is exactly the opposite. And I felt a deep respect for those that have been through trauma, no matter the type, and the problems they endure because of it.

It took me six months of therapy before I was, what you could call functional, to rid myself of the daily attacks.

As my therapy sessions ended, even though I knew I had PTSD, I thought I was cured and would be able to continue my life as it was before. I know that for my life, my new normal would be different than before. I would cry more easily watching movies, I would be more forgetful, and at times, just unable to deal with anyone or anything. But I was happy since I was once again able to function as a semi quasi-normal person.

Unfortunately, I did not continue my therapy, figuring that I was the best that I could be. Little did I know that the truly dark and sinister side of PTSD was still lurking inside.

I discontinued my therapy and then…

I continued working and living as best I could. I very seldom had my episodes, just a few times a year, and I thought I was happy. That was until July of 2020, four years after stopping therapy, almost seven years since the shooting.

I was gone from home working for an extended time. While I was gone, I started once again, not being able to sleep. The nightmares started coming back, and I developed a symptom that was new to me.

It is hard to describe. I do not think I truly comprehend what is happening to me yet. That new symptom is the total lack of feeling or emotion.

I feel no joy, no happiness, no sadness, absolutely no emotions at all. I can laugh and cry and appear normal to the outside world, but inside I feel nothing.

Once I realized this, I knew that I once again had to fight the battle because losing it was not an option. This was not just a battle to be cured. It was a battle for my life — the one I refuse to lose.

The causes of my new battle are much deeper than just being shot; those are deep-seated in a long career of facing that worst that society has to offer. Seeing the daily suffering and pain that humans are capable of causing, there comes a point where it adversely affects you for life.

My battle continues

My battle is one that is fought daily. Some days it is easy, some I win, some I surrender to the numbness. I fight this battle not only for me but for those around me, my family, and friends.

Because if I lose this battle, theirs will just begin.

Please do not view my story as one about me. View it as an opportunity, an opening of the eyes to shed light upon the invisibility of something dark and sinister that destroys so many lives.

PTSD not only destroys the person’s life, but it affects the lives of those who are around them.

There is hope for people with PTSD if they start their journey to the path to recovery and normalcy within themselves.

They need to take that first step, the realization of what they are dealing with, and that it does not have to be that way.

Thank you for reading!

If you are interested to know more about me and my life, you may read the following article published in The Masterpiece.