My Life Story Case

Published: 2021-06-29 06:43:59
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Category: Psychology

Type of paper: Essay

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My Life Story
Wow, this is the hard assignment for me. I wish I could give you my life story, but someone will have to give it to me first. I was injured in Iraq when a 57mm rocket landed within 20 meters of me. I was slammed into the corner of a trailer; I hit my head, my back, and landed in a way that tore my ACL and meniscus in my right knee. When I came to all I could think was what the hell just happened to me? I knew who I was, where I was, and why I was there, but so much else seemed fuzzy. I began to notice differences in my personality, problems with my vision, I had the worst headaches ever, and I had problems with my short and long term memory. At first, I wasn't really trying to or needed to recall events from my past. I would go to the doctors and complain about the headaches, but all I got was, "You have PTSD," "You have PTSD and this is your body's way of dealing with the mental trauma," and my favorite of all time, "You're a girl, you don't know how to handle stress because you are a girl, you have PTSD. You need to do pushups." Have you ever been threatened with hospitalization because you threatened to put your size 4 ½ combat boot up someone's ass? I HAVE!! Apparently I have anger management issues.
The more time passed, the more people began asking me questions. Did I remember this or that? Do I remember this person or that person? The more someone asked, the more I realized I didn't. My ex-husband and I remained friends and he made a comment about how I wasn't reading like I used to. I asked what he meant and he told me that I used to read a book every couple of days, but he noticed that I was reading the same book more than a week later. I would have to go back and reread passages to understand what I had just read. When I read letters float and I get headaches. When I type, I type letters out of order. When I write, everything starts neat, but turns into scribble soon after. I bump into furniture and walls all the time. I have bruises that I cannot explain for the life of me.
I think this affects my oldest daughter more than it does me. I know who my immediate family is, even if I can't recall specific memories. Other people have been forever erased. But for my daughter, she asks if I remember when we did one activity after another, I can see the hurt in her eyes when I say no. Those were special memories to her; I think she feels that they meant nothing to me so I let them go, forever forgotten. I swear I didn't. I would much rather have those memories then the ones I got saddled with. The ones that I would prefer to never remember.

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