Catching Memories

I thought I was having a heart attack. I walked to my car, trying to focus on the feel of my feet hitting the pavement and trying not to pass out. The sidewalk seemed to be moving like an escalator and waves of nausea were rolling over me like an angry waterfall after a winter storm.

I made it to my car, shut the door, and called my husband.

“Babe…I don’t feel well. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

“What?! Where are you?”

“I’m at Petco.” 

Except…I wasn’t.

I was sitting in my car, parked in the spot I had found three hours earlier, two blocks from my office. I had gone in for a meeting and was going to grab some lunch and run errands before heading back to finish some administrative tasks. Two days earlier I had conducted a forensic interview of an 8 year old girl. Her words were running on a continual loop inside my head.

“You need to go to the hospital…NOW. I’ll meet you there!”

I vaguely remember driving myself to the hospital, with Aaron still on the phone literally guiding me the entire drive. He told me later he was trying to sound calm while internally fighting panic and fear of losing me.

Somehow I made it to the hospital and managed to walk inside the ER doors. Aaron ran inside only seconds behind me.

For the next few hours I was hooked up to every machine imaginable, the ones that conduct all the alphabet tests. EKG. EEG. ECG. My heartbeat was ping ponging from 70 to 170 beats per minute, yet in the end the doctors could find nothing wrong with my heart.

I sat in the hospital room, praying to God for answers. This was not my first visit. For the past several years I had been experiencing rapid heartbeat, passing out and having seizures. Doctors could not find anything wrong and I was left feeling crazy. Until this visit. The ER doctor sat next to my bed and took my hand

"What do you do for a living?"

As she gently squeezed my hand, patiently waiting for an answer, tears filled my eyes. My husband nodded in support.

"I'm the Program Manager for the county's Child Abuse Interview Team, as well as the primary forensic interviewer."

"And how long have you been doing this?"

"28 years. I've swallowed the hurt, shame and abuse of others for 28 years."

The doctor told me that unless I stopped doing my job it was going to kill me. She referred me to a psychologist that day and said she could not ethically allow me to go back to work.

I was fortunate that the psychologist I was referred to could see me that Sunday. Aaron drove me to her office and held my hand as we walked inside . She held my gaze as she asked,

"Tell me why you're here."

I burst into tears and it felt like a dam had broken.

After listening to my torrent and watching my face while I sobbed, she spoke these words...

"Tracy, you have one of the most severe cases of complex PTSD that I've seen. No one is supposed to do what you've done for as long as you have. You need to work on healing. This job will literally kill you if you continue."

PTSD. A weight lifted off my shoulders. An answer. A label. A nightmare. What happens now?

For the past two years I've been unpacking the vicarious trauma I've suffered for the last 28 years. And in that time I've realized that most of us are too busy making a living that we don't realize our life is suffering. We are too busy focusing on catching fish that we forget to catch memories. This past week we spent our annual family fishing trip focused on catching the memories. And the haul was priceless!

So why am I telling you this? Because I'm an empath. I have to help people...it's my nature. But I can't help the way I used to help. I have to do something different. I can't help myself. So I tell you this in hope that my story...my experience...will be a cautionary tale for you. In the hope that you will see this as a wake up call to catch those memories. Don't be so focused on making a living that you don't allow yourself to enjoy the living of your life. Choose joy. We are not guaranteed tomorrow...enjoy today.

Hugs,

Tracy XO