POEMS ABOUT PTSD > Suddenly It's Then: A Poem on Living with PTSD
SUDDENLY IT’S THEN
A Poem on Living with PTSD
For you, it’s a minor set back,
a problem, a small mistake.
But for me, it is a disaster--
terror… a burden I can’t take.
You say not to worry.
You tell me what to do.
But I’m paralyzed by fear,
and I can’t hear you.
It was just a small bang.
Intellectually I know,
but I hear its ringing
everywhere I go.
You tell me to move forward,
to forgive and forget.
I know, but I’m busy defending
the invisible threats.
And I want to run away,
hide and disappear.
The strong person I am
is no longer here.
Curled up in the corner,
caught up in a trap--
like a wounded soldier,
too weak to get up.
For you, it is here and now,
but for me, suddenly it’s THEN.
For you, a minor accident,
for me… WAR, all over again.
LILIANA KOHANN
©Artpeace Publishing 2023
A Poem on Living with PTSD
For you, it’s a minor set back,
a problem, a small mistake.
But for me, it is a disaster--
terror… a burden I can’t take.
You say not to worry.
You tell me what to do.
But I’m paralyzed by fear,
and I can’t hear you.
It was just a small bang.
Intellectually I know,
but I hear its ringing
everywhere I go.
You tell me to move forward,
to forgive and forget.
I know, but I’m busy defending
the invisible threats.
And I want to run away,
hide and disappear.
The strong person I am
is no longer here.
Curled up in the corner,
caught up in a trap--
like a wounded soldier,
too weak to get up.
For you, it is here and now,
but for me, suddenly it’s THEN.
For you, a minor accident,
for me… WAR, all over again.
LILIANA KOHANN
©Artpeace Publishing 2023
Sharing a fragment from my journal (March 5th, 2023, 4 am) that led to the creation of this poem. It’s not easy to share, but perhaps it will help someone…
Journal Entry 3.5.24, 4 am
Heidi* helped me realize that the accident—the sudden bang on my right side—brought back memories of Martial Law. She encouraged me to focus on where I felt it in my body and to describe the feeling. At first, I couldn’t. My mind was so critical, telling me I shouldn’t feel that way. I knew, logically, that my life wasn’t in danger now. I knew I was lucky that neither Liz nor I was seriously injured. But my body was reacting as if it were on a completely different path.
In Heidi’s presence, I felt safe enough to admit—to myself and, with great embarrassment, to her—that the sensation felt like death. It brought me back to when I was young, to the moment a tank drove over the barricade, coming straight at us, crushing my friend’s leg. I remembered us running frantically for shelter, only to face a line of ZOMO officers with machine guns aimed at us. Heidi said this was PTSD.
When that woman T-boned my car, there was a loud, sudden bang. Though we weren’t seriously hurt, I have felt unsafe and terrorized ever since. I know, objectively, it was a minor accident; John makes it sound so simple. But inside, it feels like war all over again. I’m realizing that I don’t need therapy just to feel better. I can manage my emotions. I need therapy to help me move forward, to break out of this paralysis and disconnection. I need to understand this. For you, it’s a minor set back, a problem, a small mistake. But for me, it is a disaster--terror… a burden I can’t take... (a full poem came here. I later titled it "Suddenly It’s Then."). Wow! Thank you God for helping me understand... I dedicate it to all who have fought for freedom. I did too. I finally understand that I was in deep denial, but I am learning to accept that, at times, I still struggle with PTSD.
*Heidi was my domestic violence counselor from years ago. I reached out to her after the car accident on February 3, 2023, because I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.
Journal Entry 3.5.24, 4 am
Heidi* helped me realize that the accident—the sudden bang on my right side—brought back memories of Martial Law. She encouraged me to focus on where I felt it in my body and to describe the feeling. At first, I couldn’t. My mind was so critical, telling me I shouldn’t feel that way. I knew, logically, that my life wasn’t in danger now. I knew I was lucky that neither Liz nor I was seriously injured. But my body was reacting as if it were on a completely different path.
In Heidi’s presence, I felt safe enough to admit—to myself and, with great embarrassment, to her—that the sensation felt like death. It brought me back to when I was young, to the moment a tank drove over the barricade, coming straight at us, crushing my friend’s leg. I remembered us running frantically for shelter, only to face a line of ZOMO officers with machine guns aimed at us. Heidi said this was PTSD.
When that woman T-boned my car, there was a loud, sudden bang. Though we weren’t seriously hurt, I have felt unsafe and terrorized ever since. I know, objectively, it was a minor accident; John makes it sound so simple. But inside, it feels like war all over again. I’m realizing that I don’t need therapy just to feel better. I can manage my emotions. I need therapy to help me move forward, to break out of this paralysis and disconnection. I need to understand this. For you, it’s a minor set back, a problem, a small mistake. But for me, it is a disaster--terror… a burden I can’t take... (a full poem came here. I later titled it "Suddenly It’s Then."). Wow! Thank you God for helping me understand... I dedicate it to all who have fought for freedom. I did too. I finally understand that I was in deep denial, but I am learning to accept that, at times, I still struggle with PTSD.
*Heidi was my domestic violence counselor from years ago. I reached out to her after the car accident on February 3, 2023, because I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.
If you are a veteran, and you happen to stumble upon this page, here is a song for you,
"I Will Keep You In My Heart."
"I Will Keep You In My Heart."
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I dedicate this song to all the soldiers and civilians who are sacrificing their lives in the battles for peace and freedom, and to all the people who have been separated from their loved ones. |