PTSD: My Journey

I am a survivor. I learned very early in life to protect myself, to stand up for myself, to kick the bullies to the curb. I am described as a very strong person. I know that I am strong, but wow, there comes a time when even the strongest of us just want to curl up and cry, to be comforted instead of always being the one who comforts. The onset of depression started in 2004, but being strong, I refused to acknowledge it. I would not admit to myself that I was depressed, damned if I would admit it to a doctor, friend, or co-worker. I learned to hide it, to "fake" being happy, being content, loving life. I hide this very well for six years.

Then I was diagnosed as severely depressed. I couldn't fake it anymore. This was when my attitude about depression, and all "mental illnesses," changed. Damn the stigmatism. I was loud and proud to call it what it is. I was tired of hiding. Never again would I feel ashamed because I suffered from depression. After all, my employer had caused this. I had been wrongfully accused and suspended for something I had not done. I sat at home for six months, alone, angry, scared, for nothing, as the investigation found. I returned to work, head held high, and determined that I would not take anything like this again.

This is my background for the onset of PTSD. I did not develop PTSD as a result of going to war, although, in reality, I did go to war, with my employer. To work for the government sounds like a great cushy job. It is not. Working as a correctional officer for 27 years, I have found that it is an extremely cruel environment, which has nothing to do with inmates. Staff are bored when it is quiet, therefore are a vicious pack of cruel rumour mongers, who do not or will not see that their "fun" in fact hurts others. Myself excluded, I refused to allow that. I shook my head and gave it back. So how does all this become PTSD? How did all my strength and determination backfire? I unknowingly made my myself a target, not of co-workers, but of senior managers.

As I stated, I refused to allow myself to be bullied by co-workers, so when it became too much, I left, went home sick, or didn't go in, using more sick time. This in turn lead to even more bullying by staff. Catcalls, comments about my sick time. Actually being asked repeatedly why my "ass" hadn't been fired. This came from junior managers as well as line staff. I gave it back, I told them off, I became vicious as well. I started to dread going to work, I switched to night shifts only to ease this insanity. Oh, and for all of you asking why I didn't use all the "channels" of support, I tried. As it is with the police, it is with corrections. There is a blue line you do not cross. If you do, it could mean your life. Once know as a "rat," anything could happen. You could be left in a unit during a riot, during an assault, you could be attacked before or after shift by staff. Not a pleasant thought. So again, more sick time used.

In December 2010, a Deputy Superintendent decided that she would not accept my doctor's notes any longer. She decided to give me back my sick credits, taking back my pay. Well, she didn't stop at the $1348.00 she quoted, for five months, every pay had forty hours deducted, $12348.00 in all. Illegal, yes, but this had to be proven, well as we all know, when the government investigates the government, they are never guilty. Shocking I know. This was the start of the onset of PTSD.

You see, you don't have to have been to war. You don't have to have seen repeated suicides by inmates, or beatings, or any of the horrid things which go on in a maximum security prison. You just have to be bullied by senior management, have your life turned upside down, and not just by one person. It's a never ending cycle once you've made yourself a target. All it takes is this, then seven years of not being able to sleep, of not being able to concentrate, of nightmares of which you have no control, of fear. This gets better. WSIB then makes you jump through hoops and refuses your claim, again shocking. They refuse to acknowledge that years of constant bullying by the employer can cause PTSD.

Always explaining to doctors, and counsellors that no, you are not suicidal, you are just tired, and afraid, very very afraid. That you would do anything to just have one night of uninterrupted sleep, to be nightmare free, to not sit in your house with all the drapes drawn, not answering your door, or your phone. To have gone from a happy fun loving social person, to a person who hides, and lies to people about hiding. This has been my life for the last 12 months. I do not like it; it is not the life I ordered. I am waiting for treatment, because although all the doctors out there have jumped on the PTSD bandwagon, they just don't have time to "fit" you in.

This so far has been my journey with PTSD.