Overcoming Life's Traumas: A Personal Journey

Life can be a series of trials, and for me, it has been a journey shaped by profound challenges. At twenty, I faced the devastating loss of my dad—a trauma that left a lasting mark on me. A decade later, at thirty, life tested me again when I was diagnosed with epilepsy, a condition that brought immense uncertainty and upheaval. On top of this, I experienced the heartbreak of losing my job, a position I had poured myself into, only to have it taken away by the very people I had supported. They not only betrayed my trust but also stole an opportunity I had worked so hard to build. In the aftermath of these difficulties, I sought help at Oakwood Springs Rehab Center, hoping to find healing. However, instead of solace, I endured yet another trauma, one that left me grappling with the weight of PTSD. Through therapy, I’ve come to realize that I haven’t experienced just one major life trauma, but three. When reflecting on the first—losing my father—I uncovered how I coped with the pain: by pushing the trauma aside and turning to what felt easiest at the time—alcohol. At first, being in your twenties and embracing a party lifestyle—drinking and having fun—while still managing to keep up a seemingly normal life feels effortless. You're young, and everyone around you shares similar habits and goals. Addiction blends in. Trauma goes unnoticed. It's easy to shove pain aside or, at best, cover it up with a temporary fix, like a bandage over a wound.

Through my twenties, I managed to maintain a healthy work-life balance and had no struggles with addiction. Life seemed smooth and manageable—until I entered my thirties. When I turned thirty, I came down with the flu twice in quick succession, both times lasting two weeks and hitting me hard. Once I finally recovered, I returned to work, only to be scheduled for a grueling twelve-hour shift on my very first day back. I vividly remember driving home afterward, exhausted, while talking to my mom on the phone. I parked in the driveway, walked into the house, and that’s when it happened—my first grand mal seizure. My husband will never forget that day. He describes it as the most terrifying moment of his life—holding me in his arms as I turned blue, convulsing, while he frantically called 911, consumed by panic. Exactly three months later, I experienced another grand mal seizure—this time at work, during employee reviews in the backroom. Thankfully, one of my coworkers was with me, saw me begin to convulse, and immediately called 911. When my husband arrived, he was overcome with worry. I, on the other hand, had no idea who he was or where I was. My mind was engulfed in the foggy aftermath of the seizure, known as the postictal phase—a period of disorientation and confusion. After this incident, I was officially diagnosed with epilepsy and prescribed medication to manage my seizures. While receiving this diagnosis was a life-altering shock, what people often overlook is the challenge posed by the medication—a lesser-known aspect of the condition that is rarely discussed. The various medications, along with the seizures, can change how your brain functions. Your personality shifts, your thought processes are altered, and your impulsivity may be affected. Essentially, you have to learn how to be yourself all over again. Rather than taking a medical leave to address what I now recognize as a significant trauma in my life, I pushed forward. In doing so, the trauma deepened when two employees, along with my boss and my Assistant Manager—who I considered a friend—stole my job from me. They took everything I had spent years building and perfecting, all while I was struggling. They did so without a shred of remorse. I found myself sinking deeper into depression, overwhelmed by a second major trauma. In an attempt to cope and dull the pain, I turned to what I knew—but what started as a coping mechanism has now become an addiction.