PTSD and Aphantasia – coming to terms with my own experience of post traumatic stress disorder

Last week, I went to the doctors to talk about my mental health, and a couple of things came from it that I wanted to talk about. They’re not necessarily easy reading but I started My Anxious Life to encourage and normalise tough conversations and I don’t intend to stop now!

First – my doctor confirmed that, from what I’d said, I likely have PTSD from the trauma of 2018, cemented by the associated health complications that have come since. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is infamously associated with combat, but it can actually occur as a result of any traumatic event from a serious accident to bereavement, childbirth to assault.

The doctor’s words didn’t come as a surprise, it was something I’d been mulling over internally for a while, being fairly sure that’s what I was suffering but afraid to say it out loud. Half of me had been feeling that I had absolutely no right to feel that way, whilst the other half was adamantly reminding me that not a single person knew the extent of what I’d been through, and that so many others would crumble under the weight of it.

Since it happened, I’ve felt intense anger and frustration when others talked about their minor health complaints – cross that they could be so self-obsessed and whimsical, such hypochondriacs. Each time I felt like it was a personal attack on me and what I’d been through. 

My emotions have been up and down: I’ve had a bout of depression, constant exhaustion, major irritability, sensitivity and been prone to overwhelm. I’ve felt lonely, isolated and not understood.

When our son was taken unexpectedly ill last year and admitted to hospital, initially it was almost worse for me that I had to go back to the hospital, smell the smells, feel those emotions. As I walked down those same corridors, my heart was racing, I felt sick and dizzy. I wasn’t prepared to be back there so soon, especially since I hadn’t even come to terms with my trauma yet.

I’ve felt anger and extreme mistrust in medical services, and anyone really in a position of power over me. (Although to be fair, those feelings are pretty warranted).

All of these are feelings and experiences are clear indicators of PTSD, and yet I still didn’t feel that it could be. It led me to realise that I really didn’t know much about PTSD at all: all I knew were the somewhat inaccurate media portrayals, and maybe that’s part of the reason I had been struggling with it as a blanket term. Because automatically – you think of flashbacks. The terrifying war stories, the centre of every powerful movie scene, and often the first thing PTSD sufferers’ reference.

But I have no flashbacks. How could I have PTSD but no flashbacks? Because I also have Aphantasia.

Aphantasia is a condition where you don’t possess a functioning mind’s eye and cannot voluntarily visualise imagery. For some, like myself, it’s congenital and something you were born with, however it’s possible to develop the condition as a result of brain injury/surgery or psychological causes. What’s interesting is that Aphantasia only affects voluntary visualisations: Aphantasiacs are still able to dream.

There is very little research around the condition and so no real understanding of how it may affect its sufferers or interplay with other conditions.

And so here I am again – stuck in the middle of this complicated situation that feels like another burden, another thing in my life that can never just be simple.

But at least it was somewhat validating to hear the words PTSD out loud – now I can start to come to terms with it and process it in a way that works for me. It’s not really where I’d hoped I’d be in March 2020, but it’s true what people say – recovery is not a linear journey. Just because you have some bumps in the road, it doesn’t mean that you’re not still moving forward.