You're Such A Teresa

My sister, Liz, has this thing she says to me, " You're such a Teresa." It's just a running joke between us that's about something I've done or said that she thinks is funny like when I decided I'm not interested in finding out what my real hair color is but for some reason lately I've been thinking about what , " A Teresa" is.

Well, let's see some of the definitions include super sensitive, funny, and the really big one, an over thinker. What the hell does that even mean? I don't know about that. Yes, I do think things through thoroughly, and I try to look into every nook and cranny but I don't think I over think but is that a bad thing? Do you think it's true? I guess it could be true. Do you think it's true? True or not true it's all about being part of the package called, " Teresa"

I think it's time to talk about this Teresa and as you read this piece please ask yourself, " am I being a Teresa?"

Teresa had a job she loved. A job that she began with a happy rise and shine ready to go to work. She was proud, she was amazed that she had this opportunity and she loved her partners and both of her Teams, C and D but had an equal love for the A and B Teams as well. This was what she had waited for for a long time. A job that she found interesting and also vital a job that was making a difference in this world a way to help people who needed help during their worst hours but by the end she couldn't even force herself to care about the person who should have called a cab and gone to a clinic instead of calling an emergency vehicle because they had a cold. She no longer jumped out of bed. When she was at work she struggled to keep her head in the game. She became so depressed that she didn't care if she died and wished she had during the incident that changed her life, however she also knew she had the responsibility to protect her partner and her teams but once she was home she was a train wreck.

Train wreck Teresa had night terrors, flashbacks, suicidal thoughts and she isolated herself as much as possible. She was paranoid every time the phone rang, she heard a voice on the answering machine, or a knock on her door or any noise that she didn't recognize she was sure it was someone trying to find her to kill her. This has gone on since Teresa was 29 yrs old.

One or both of the Teresa's suffered from horrible, crippling migraines. It felt as if her brain was trying to get out of her skull and it just kept rebounding off the bone. The vomiting was so intense that her 110 lb body could move a grown man around as he tried to hold her steady on a stretcher. She always had to go to the hospital for medication to stop the pain and vomiting. The amount of narcotics that it took to keep those damned things from rebounding was enough to drop a giraffe but in those early days Demerol was the drug of the Dr's ( and her mother's) choice. The good thing about Demerol was that it made her forget the pain. She just wanted to go to sleep and have a snickers bar. Liz called that " being a Teresa."

The Teresa who was calling out sick all the time was dealing with all of that. She ended up with disciplinary notes in her file and she was even suspended twice. It came to the attention of one of her chiefs that she wasn't the same person he had hired. This Teresa didn't have the spark the other Teresa did. She finally told him about the night terrors and he told her immediately what he thought was going on. He told her she was most likely suffering from PTSD.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? What the hell was that? She thought she had heard the term before. She remembered that she heard it in EMT class and that there really wasn't much said about it at that time. In the 80's and most of the 90's PTSD was pretty much thought of as a condition that people in the military had. It wasn't a wide spread diagnosis as it is now. It also wasn't acceptable for anyone else to have it.

Teresa knew she was in way over her head and spilled everything to her chief. She described every soul sucking symptom she had. The crying, the ducking for cover at any little thing. The only thing she left out was the man that followed her everywhere. He was a short man, possibly 5'4' tall with a lean build. He was wearing a yellow polo shirt and jeans with white sneakers. He had a very muscular right arm. She noticed that because that was the arm that had the hand that was holding the huge knife. She couldn't see his face. He was with her at work. He was with her at home. He was with her at the grocery store. He was always there. When she was driving her car she knew he was in the back seat looking for her. She kept this man a secret because she simply didn't want to lose her job. The place she loved. The people she loved. The work she still loved.

Teresa was sent to therapy but she knew that anything she said would be reported to her superiors. She said as little as possible to the Psychiatrist and in fact she skipped out on several of her appointments. There was no way she was forcing herself to go back to where she worked for an hour of doing nothing. She was, in fact, told that if she didn't get better in two or three months she would probably lose her job and that would be devastating.

Teresa was also very aware of the " Code of Silence." She knew talking abut this would label her as weak and not fit for the job. She would probably have some people refuse to partner with her because they didn't trust her to have their backs. She was also aware that being a woman in EMS was still not universally accepted. It was still very much a male dominated world at that time. She kept is all inside or at least as much as she could. Teresa that worked tried to be the same person that she was before the career ending incident that triggered all of this mess was. She talked to much. She joked around and most of all she tried to be the same bad ass that the other females were.

The Code of Silence was a larger issue than even having been told she had PTSD was. Who was there to talk to about all this with. She had her best friend and mentor who she told some of the things that were going on. Linda tried to get Teresa to go on disability and get healed but Teresa refused to leave and nothing Linda said could persuade her to leave the job that for some reason she stilled loved with all her heart. Linda just had to watch as her friend unraveled.

I think it's time, more than time to talk about this insidious, " Code of Silence." Who actually benefits from this? We all know who. NO ONE. That's the over and under answer to this question. Teresa or any other person who was being a Train Wreck Teresa should have felt free to express herself from that very first night terror. She should also have known what it was and that there could be more intense feelings coming. Teresa did the best she could under enormous pressure that it was only a matter of time before she finally broke. It's also worth mentioning that the first night terror didn't happen until a full nine months after the initial situation happened.

Train wreck ended up calling her best friend one night to say, " goodbye and I love you" She also said that, " this pain is just to hard to take anymore and I don't know how to stop it. This call was seven years later. Linda came to Train wreck's apartment and blocked her car in so she couldn't leave. Train wreck ran away from her best friend and tried to go just anywhere to be alone but Linda stuck with her until a patrol car showed up. Train wreck panicked and kept trying to go around both Linda and one of the Officers that Teresa truly disliked. Linda grabbed onto Train wreck and fought with her until the ambulance came to take her to the E.D.

Teresa was sent to the first of many mental hospitals for therapy and medication management. She was told over and over during group therapy sessions that she had to stop sharing because the things she said were to graphic for the other women in the " Women's Trauma Group" to hear. This was in the early 2000's. It was a revolving door of mental health facility for years for depression. anxiety and being suicidal. It was all very frustrating and it made Teresa very angry. She got to a point where any time she had to speak to any psychiatrist or social worker that it just made her furious. She would be a walking, talking angry train wreck. She finally made the decision in 2010 to have ECT. She went through having electricity shot into her brain three times a week for three months straight. She felt as if she owed it to her sister with whom she lived, to try to do something to help the depression she was so far into and the PTSD symptoms that were always present and dangerous. There was also a new diagnosis. Teresa now had C-PTSD. Great!!! and you know what came with that? She lost her ability to speak. She was initially diagnosed as having had a stroke but she had no impairment other than not being able to speak so she went through every neurological test in the book CAT scan, MRI, EEG. all showed negative results so her doctor decided that she had something called Conversion Disorder which was just a catch all phrase that meant, " we really don't know what else to call it. " This symptom came and went as it pleased. It still does neither Teresa knew when it would happen, how long it would stay and why it came. Teresa still doesn't know and here we are more than 20 yrs later and it's all still here.

I know you've all known all along that I'm that Teresa. Teresa the train wreck and Teresa the " glued together with silly putty" I went through a grocery list of symptoms and syndromes that all left me feeling humiliated, weak, embarrassed, disgraced and a whole lot of other adjectives.

I ended up on Social Security Disability in 2003. The day that Linda took me to the office to sign the papers I cried so hard I think I scared the poor guy who was trying to explain it all to me. I felt like the biggest loser on the planet. I didn't want this. I wanted someone to say the magic words, give me some magic medications or wave the magic wand and make me relevant again. I wanted to go back to the day that caused the ruin of a life I had always wanted. I was devastated but enough about me, let's talk about you, all of you. I think we should find out if any of you are " just a teresa" did you find yourself identifying with anything I said? It doesn't matter how large your department is or how many jobs you run a year. It could be ten jobs a year or it could be over a hundred thousand. It can happen at any time to anyone.

We face our own war every day that we put our uniforms on and pin those badges to our chests. We all go out in the field to help people with whatever emergency they are having. We see things that no one should ever have to see. We see the innocence of the children who are victims of unspeakable evil. We see common colds and child birth. These things all add up and pile on until we find it all being to hard and there's no shame in that. I felt that shame for such a long time and it wasn't necessary. I often wondered why I was going through it all and why I couldn't just move on with my life. I still don't know the answer but maybe telling my truth to all of you is why.

I know that conversations are being had now but not as much as there should be. We are the warriors that often are the first to arrive to shootings, stabbings, domestics and junkies who are over dosing yet we still aren't having the conversations that we should be. People the " code of silence" is B.S. Yup, I said it. The " code of silence" is pure bull shit. and it should have been thrown out the window years ago.

I speak every day to folks from EMS, Fire and Law Enforcement who are still going through the same crap I've gone through for a long time. It has to stop. I think it's a great start that there are so many support groups online now where anyone can spill there guts without any back lash or having to feel weakness or shame. Men and Women alike are telling their truths to each other and are prospering. The simple relief of knowing that they are understood and loved is all that they need to continue on.

Why don't we all change the code of silence into the Code of Companionship? Why can't we just forget the code of silence and give each other the permission to show the emotions that we tend to bottle up. Why don't we start asking the each other, " how are you doing especially after the really tough stuff. It makes me kind of sad that the folks that I speak with are turning to strangers other than their own co-workers because they still don't feel free to talk about what's going on in there heads.

Isn't it about time to stop pretending we aren't all human, that our blood isn't just as red as the blood that soaks into our uniforms on those jobs that should have never happened. Isn't it about time to say, " I need a minute" and cry it out if we have too. Men, I'm talking to you too; try to hide it as you may, your emotions run just as deep as your female counterparts and I'm telling you that you have my permission to let it go but my permission isn't enough is it? Why shouldn't we take just fifteen minutes at the end of every shift and check up on each other. Whether that be a one on one conversation with someone we know is struggling with that hanging they showed up to that day or reach out to that person who had to listen to a nine year old describe how her uncle has been molesting her since she was four. Why take those things home to our families? They love us but can anyone really understand our jobs? I mean, our Dad was a mechanic. I could listen to him talk about fixing a car forever but at the end of the day I still wouldn't be a mechanic.

I believe with all my heart that it's time to take control of this situation. It's not always going to come down from the bosses sometimes it has to come from the rank and file. This would mean actually believing it when we say, " We take care of ourselves first, our partners second and the patients next. " We tend to try to bury our hurt and pain in humor but let's try to start reading between the lines of those jokes. Is it really just a joke or is your partner trying to inadvertently tell you, " I'm hurting over this job and I need to talk about it?"

I think you all deserve to have the power of us instead of the isolation of I. Do whatever you need to do to get those conversations going. Do this before you are ducking for cover whenever you hear thunder. Please let it all out before you are afraid of your own doorbell. Please talk it out before you find yourself in the middle of a Walmart Pharmacy 20 yrs from now screaming because you hear a loud argument going on. Don't make the closet your safest place in your house.

If you'd like to print this out and put it on your bulletin boards and see who is interested in forming a peer support group. This is going to take courage and strength but it's also the promise that we make when we call each other Brother and Sister, isn't it? Those aren't just words we say they mean that we are connected to our very core and should be taking the best care of each other that we can without the fear of shame or ridicule. Let's protect each other as family should. Please let's avoid having one more Brother or Sister say to themselves, " I can't believe I have to live through another whole day."

I said that exactly that everyday for years and everyday I was crying just as I am right this minute.

What I'm trying to say is, " Please don't be the next train wreck Teresa.

And if it helps I care about you. I love you and I'm proud to call you all my Brothers and Sisters. Be safe, Love the real Teresa.