PTSD and Memory Association: A Memorial
Where were you this day seven years ago? I will never forget. I cannot forget. Early that morning I was in the waiting room of my psychologist's office, located in one of the taller buildings of a neighboring city. The television was on in the waiting room. There were only a few people there, the receptionist, secretary, another patient and myself. It seemed an ordinary day, and I was experiencing the normal amount of anxiety I generally had going to my doc to discuss the events which triggered my post traumatic stress disorder and dissociation. I didn't want to dredge up the past, but I did want to get on with my future, and a buried past has a way of throwing mud on even the best of days.
Suddenly, the television screen began projecting images of the first attack on the Twin Towers. We didn't really know what we were seeing. Was this an add for some movie? It seemed as if the air was sucked out of the room. We didn't move or speak. No one could. Then we saw the second strike and heard the news announcer frantically describing the destruction. It was surreal. We were all in shock. Tears welled up in our eyes, but even in a psychology office, no one really knew how to deal with what was happening. In truth, we didn't really understand what was actually happening. All we knew was that the U.S. had been attacked and that fellow citizens and guests had faced horrible deaths.
The coverage, which was replayed over and over, clearly showed people falling from the exploding towers. Finally, someone recommended that we either shut the TV off or move it into another room, so the clients wouldn't be unduly traumatized. But it was a bit too late, at least for me. When my doc finally came out of his office, where he'd been detained on a phone call, he was in shock himself. I walked back with him, and we just stared at one another. At a moment such as this, most people want to be able to DO SOMETHING, but we didn't know what in the world we could do except to keep ourselves informed. My doc ultimately decided we should just cancel the session, and I went home, still in shock.
I already had PTSD, so this terrible memory became quickly associated with the building where I went for therapy, with driving into the city, with my psychologist and even the therapy process in general. When I rescheduled my appointment, I had a terrible panic attack trying to drive there. I couldn't look at the building where my psychologist worked without seeing the Twin Towers, without seeing the agony of the people. I couldn't look at my therapist without thinking of these things. These thoughts eclipsed the issues I was trying to work through, and the therapeutic work became counterproductive. I eventually had to quit seeing that psychologist because I couldn't manage those intrusive memories.
I write this not for sympathy, for I don't need that. The folks who lived through those attacks and those who lost their loved ones deserve all the sympathy. I'm sharing this story as a way to illustrate how easy it is for one memory to become associated with another. Sometimes, this can be a good thing, like when association is used to enhance learning. However, for people with PTSD, a kind of inappropriate memory association occurs which reduces overall functioning. In the most severe cases, associations pile up so quickly that just about anything can trigger symptoms of trauma. For me, that day is clearly etched into my neural circuitry.
I was eventually able to drive into the city again, although not without at least a little anxiety. I also found another good therapist to help me work through my issues, but it has been a long haul. I can only imagine the psychic scars those closer to the events carry in their memories. Seven years later, my heart still goes out to them, as passionately as it did the day I first witnessed those dreadful events.
Suddenly, the television screen began projecting images of the first attack on the Twin Towers. We didn't really know what we were seeing. Was this an add for some movie? It seemed as if the air was sucked out of the room. We didn't move or speak. No one could. Then we saw the second strike and heard the news announcer frantically describing the destruction. It was surreal. We were all in shock. Tears welled up in our eyes, but even in a psychology office, no one really knew how to deal with what was happening. In truth, we didn't really understand what was actually happening. All we knew was that the U.S. had been attacked and that fellow citizens and guests had faced horrible deaths.
The coverage, which was replayed over and over, clearly showed people falling from the exploding towers. Finally, someone recommended that we either shut the TV off or move it into another room, so the clients wouldn't be unduly traumatized. But it was a bit too late, at least for me. When my doc finally came out of his office, where he'd been detained on a phone call, he was in shock himself. I walked back with him, and we just stared at one another. At a moment such as this, most people want to be able to DO SOMETHING, but we didn't know what in the world we could do except to keep ourselves informed. My doc ultimately decided we should just cancel the session, and I went home, still in shock.
I already had PTSD, so this terrible memory became quickly associated with the building where I went for therapy, with driving into the city, with my psychologist and even the therapy process in general. When I rescheduled my appointment, I had a terrible panic attack trying to drive there. I couldn't look at the building where my psychologist worked without seeing the Twin Towers, without seeing the agony of the people. I couldn't look at my therapist without thinking of these things. These thoughts eclipsed the issues I was trying to work through, and the therapeutic work became counterproductive. I eventually had to quit seeing that psychologist because I couldn't manage those intrusive memories.
I write this not for sympathy, for I don't need that. The folks who lived through those attacks and those who lost their loved ones deserve all the sympathy. I'm sharing this story as a way to illustrate how easy it is for one memory to become associated with another. Sometimes, this can be a good thing, like when association is used to enhance learning. However, for people with PTSD, a kind of inappropriate memory association occurs which reduces overall functioning. In the most severe cases, associations pile up so quickly that just about anything can trigger symptoms of trauma. For me, that day is clearly etched into my neural circuitry.
I was eventually able to drive into the city again, although not without at least a little anxiety. I also found another good therapist to help me work through my issues, but it has been a long haul. I can only imagine the psychic scars those closer to the events carry in their memories. Seven years later, my heart still goes out to them, as passionately as it did the day I first witnessed those dreadful events.