Steps on the Path to Healing from PTS
I grew up in the Cumberland Mountains of East Tennessee. My grandparents owned a farm on the edge of a three thousand foot mountain, which was laced with cliffs that provided epic views of the Tennessee Valley. On a clear, low humidity day, I could see as far as the Smoky Mountains.
I spent my summers and weekends there when I was growing up. My brother, cousins, and I would cut trails through the dense and rugged mountainside to many of those cliffs, to enjoy the spectacular views. Early on, I developed an appreciation for the mountains and what it takes to build trails to surreal locations. You could say this is where my love for the outdoors and hiking was birthed and fostered.
“The work I was putting in then would be instrumental in guiding me to healing later as an adult.”
At the time, as a young teenager, I had no idea what role mountains and trails would play in my life as an adult, but the work I was putting in then would be instrumental in guiding me to healing later as an adult.
Fast forward to my twenties. I became an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician), rescue diver, and firefighter. I worked and volunteered with several departments, from my county’s EMS (Emergency Medical Services) to volunteer fire departments, from rescue squads to the state rescue college. I even became an instructor in Vehicle Extrication using the Jaws of Life, and in first-aid, CPR, and Swiftwater Rescue. Not only did I teach Swiftwater Rescue, but I also was on a statewide emergency response team.
During these thirteen years, I witnessed an untold amount of human trauma. I was on-scene at tragic fatalities two or three times every week, not to mention the frequent incidents with life-threatening injuries such as broken bones, crushing injuries, lacerations, and amputations. We responded to everything: vehicle accidents, drownings, medical emergencies, gunshot wounds, and more.
At the time, I had no idea how it was affecting me. Most often, when I left a scene, I would block out what I had just witnessed and go on to the next call. For a long time, this method worked for me -- or so I thought.
I retired in 2007, and for three years, I lived a normal life. But then, in 2010, I had my own traumatic experience. This sent me into a very dark and deep depression. It got so bad, I lost nearly 70 pounds in a single month. On Memorial Day of that year, the depression took control, and I attempted suicide with an overdose of a medication prescribed to me to help with sleep.
But here’s the thing: I didn’t want to die! And I didn’t want to attempt suicide, either. When depression goes unchecked and gets that severe, it can lead to an altered mental state that can make it nearly impossible to think clearly. Even some medications prescribed to help with depression can cause suicidal thoughts. Unfortunately, I was taking one of those medications as well.
Fast forward another two and a half years. I had remarried, and my son and I joined my new wife’s family, forming a blended family of five. Shortly afterward, following the death of my brother, we adopted my two nieces. My family had more than tripled in size almost overnight, and I had begun a large construction project to nearly double the size of my home to 1,900 square feet. Little did I realize at the time, a perfect storm was brewing.
“Little did I realize at the time, a perfect storm was brewing.”
I noticed something was wrong shortly after the marriage. My stress level was building at an intense and alarming rate. I could literally feel it growing, like a tea kettle building steam, starting slowly and rapidly building pressure. My wife and I were arguing intensely. I would find myself pushed so hard that I would snap. I was filled with so much anger that I’d have to leave and go sleep in my truck somewhere secluded for 24 to 48 hours, just to be able to calm down. This routine went on for three years, slowly becoming worse and worse with each passing episode.
Then, in 2015, I started backpacking again. I had taken some trips in my late teens and early twenties, but adult responsibilities had eventually gotten in the way and made this hobby disappear. I began with small weekend section hikes on the Appalachian Trail and gradually began doing week-long trips.
With every trip, I found that I felt a little different. For weeks after every trip, I was more comfortable and relaxed in my daily life, and my relationships with my children were better. I had more patience and didn’t feel out of control in stressful situations. But, after that several week period following a backpacking trip passed, the stress would return, and I would start getting triggered all over again.
“I call it PTS, because no one likes
being told they have a disorder.”
In 2017 I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. When referring to it, I call it PTS. I drop the ”D” because no one likes being told they have a disorder. In fact, it’s not a disorder at all -- it’s an injury to the brain that can result from experiencing deeply traumatic situations. During the years that I worked in emergency response roles, I was continually re-injuring my brain.
In the same year that I was diagnosed, I began doing more long-distance hikes. I did the Great Smoky Mountains 900-Miler twice in a single year, setting a new FKT (Fastest Known Time) on each trip: 944 miles in 78 days at first, followed by an improvement to 924 miles in 43 days the second time. With each hike, I noticed big personal changes. The stress stayed gone longer, even after I had returned home. It was becoming harder for me to get triggered into an episode during an aggressive argument with my wife or her oldest daughters.
Then, in 2018, I was PTS episode free for the whole year. But I also hiked all summer long. Starting with the Long Trail in Vermont, followed by the John Muir Trail in California, and finally the Uinta Highline Trail in Utah, I hiked nearly 640 miles that summer.
But in 2019, I was triggered by an audio recording I listened to on Easter, and the rest of the year was pure hell. I found myself being triggered once or twice nearly every month, by the same people who triggered me before. This time, however, my episodes were becoming violent. I remember one incident in May, where I was triggered so hard that my stress level went from “0 to 60” in the blink of an eye. There was no warning, no indicator for me to recognize so that I could try to de-escalate the situation. As soon as I was triggered in this incident, I immediately went into the kitchen and began beating the cabinet doors with my fist, ripping the broken doors off their hinges and throwing them into the living room.
“At that moment, I became very afraid of PTS.”
I came to my senses and realized the destruction I had caused, and at that moment, I became very afraid of PTS. I contacted a counselor and began seeing him twice a week. This continued throughout the summer and into Autumn. I was still being triggered, but the episodes weren’t violent. They were the same as they once were.
Then, in early October of 2019, I began attending a course offered by a non-profit organization called Reboot Recovery. They are an organization that assists veterans, first responders, and their families who are struggling with the effects of mental traumas like PTS. They offer these courses for free and provide a free meal and child care to course participants. The course is designed around a faith-based lesson plan and meets once a week for twelve weeks.
“My last PTS episode was on October 8, 2019.”
My last PTS episode was on October 8, 2019 -- and I’ve been in some very toxic and triggering situations since then. I am proud to say that even being in those situations that previously would have triggered me, I was able to remain in control of myself, and I wasn’t triggered even once. That is a miracle in itself.
I attribute this success to many different factors. One is my faith. I’ve leaned on my faith as a follower of Christ. I have found a calming peace through it, and an understanding that God is with me, even in the worst of times.
Second is my time on trail. Spending countless days, weeks, and months on-trail as I cover mile after mile eases the stress. There are no arguments, no yelling, no highly stressful situations to deal with. Just simply putting one foot in front of the other. Being surrounded by peaceful nature always seems like the perfect medicine.
The third factor in my success is Reboot Recovery. Their twelve-week long course combined with its faith-based lesson plan has given me the tools I need to understand what I’m dealing with, and I can’t say enough about the supportive community of my fellow course participants. We all share a common bond, and we all truly understand what the other person is going through.
