We’ve been taught all our lives to move up, up, UP! in life. Society measures success by accomplishment. If you’re not moving onward and upward, you’re a failure!

Pretty hard-core, eh?

And UTTERLY RIDICULOUS. As young idealistic people we idolize these measuring sticks… and we think nothing of looking down on anyone who doesn’t measure up. When we’re young, so full of vigor and life and potential, we haven’t experienced enough to have the necessary perspective to know those measuring sticks are pure bullshit. But we know what we have seen, and we believe that makes us experts, so we march right along not even realizing how utterly stupid we look. :)

I decided to make a Great Downgrade a few weeks ago.

I am an EMT. I developed PTSD as a result of a bad call in July 2006. I didn’t even have patient contact that night; I was the fire dept. photographer. It was that bad. Since then, I’ve been unable to go on medical calls.

This bothered me terribly every single freaking day since July 21, 2006, but there wasn’t a doggone thing I could do about it. I was trying to fix my head. But my head wasn’t listening to me, and there was no way in hell that I could go on calls.

I’ve loved being an EMT and wanted to be out there, doing my thing, making a difference. Helping other people is what I get out of bed for. It is my purpose. And EMS has been my calling for as long as I remember. I’ve been certified for over 17 years.

But now I couldn’t do it. I won’t go into the painful scenarios here, but bottom line, every call I did try wound up badly in my head. It was obvious I was best served staying home.

I forced my utterly broken PTSD brain through EMT recert in January 2008. One word: HELL. Ugh.

But by taking recert, I bought 2 more years of licensure to heal and get back in the saddle.

Well, two more years has arrived, and I had to make the Big Decision. Sh*t, or Get Off The Pot? :)

I am at 3.5 yrs post-trauma and my symptoms are only under fair control because I moved to a new home that is a "safe place." (The old place very much wasn’t safe. At all.) I’m doing better in that general, measuring-in-millimeters way, but when I heard a multi-patient call at the big sledding hill in December, as I listened to the fire chief & medics coordinate equipment and people, all I could think was "I am SO GLAD I am not having to deal with that." I was really, really glad to be free of the stress, confusion, coordination, details, (and of course carrying a Stokes basket 100+ feet up a steep hill).

That’s when I knew. I’d been feeling an aversion to complex calls for months. But the sledding hill call crystallized it for me: if it was still this far beyond my capabilities 3.5 yrs later, it wasn’t going to be sufficiently better anytime soon. In all brutal fairness, it was Time to Get Off The Pot.

So I am letting my EMT certification expire in June.

It’s very hard, letting go of accomplishment, status, special skillz and opportunities, especially when they were damn near your inspiration for breathing for years and years.

But I tell you what. The day I decided to let it go, I slept really well that night. Peace and confidence in my decision flooded over me almost instantly. I would no longer be branded "EMT", no longer carry the burdens and responsibilities the title brings. And I was thinking, "Ahhhhhhh."

Yes, I was concurrently mourning the loss — of course!! But at long last, this was a struggle that I had finally put to rest. I have pined and obsessed and ruminated on it every hour of the day & night, every day, for 1,262 days. The Downgrade is no small thing. This Downgrade is darn near everything. It feels like it’s all I’ve got left, after everything I’ve lost… even if I’m letting go of this one willingly, rather than having it wrenched out of my hands. But it’s still a loss. I’m still sad!

I have moments of "but I can do it!" – most days I have a dream of health flash through my mind, and I get all regretful and want to rush to the tech college’s website to quickly find another recert class before it’s too late! And then I remember the other 23.98 hours of the day where I am not strong, my mind is a flurry, I trigger easily, I sink further and further……. that would not be fair to my patients and it would not be fair to me.

I will help people in other ways. I will make a difference some other way. I know that is my calling. I am not sure how, yet, but I have my heart open and am listening for God’s guidance. He is who called me to EMS so many years ago. I know He will lead me again. :)

Wishing you the peace of a downgrade. ###

The car turned off in Ellison Bay. Wanting to get a good look at the (crab-fisherman-looking) driver, I knew I would have to go around the block so that our vehicles would meet driver-to-driver, and then I could get a good look at the fellow and see if it was anybody I knew.

This required I drive down The Road past the (now rebuilt) exploded duplex. However, at the chance to see Sig (LOL) or another crab fisherman that I dearly admire, I decided it was worth it. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not everybody has “AK CRAB” license plates, you know.

So I turned in at the next road, then turned left on The Road, and approached The Place where the buildings Blew Up. Every time I go through there, I view it through the lens of that night … I see trees standing in the same place they stood That Night …. I see the outdoor fireplace standing where it stood That Night … the road curves exactly like it did That Night … everything is seen through the sights burned in my brain from That Night. I don’t see it free-standing as today; I see it in comparison to That Night.

Anyway.

First I drove past the blown-up building, but I looked at the water and the boats in the harbor instead.

Next came the building next door, the one that the siding melted off of. On the far half of the duplex, a middle-aged man laid out on one of the front porch benches. He was bald, tanned, wearing just swim trunks. And he was just laying there, out on the bench.

My breath caught in my throat. Oh my God! I thought. My eyes were big and I was gaping at this guy. Doesn’t he know the danger? Doesn’t he know how he could get hurt there???

I was floored. Absolutely boggled. How could he just lay there out in the open, in the blast zone? Like nothing was going on? *blink*

Of course, the beach towels and flip-flops on all four front porches suggested that nothing was going on. People were “around” these buildings and apparently they were all blissfully unaware. But I knew what they didn’t know. I knew the danger was real, because I had seen the evidence — I had seen it exploded. For real.

* * *

Still reeling at people just milling around unprotected in the blast zone (un-freakin’-real) I rounded the corner to find Alaska crab fisherman car, and a 30-ish man had gotten out, with a cute little boy in tow. On the other side his very pretty wife was walking with an adorable little girl. I did not recognize the man as anybody from Deadliest Catch. I even tried to envision the fellow in full-length rain gear… still no dice.

Later, at home, it finally dawned on me that that man sunbathing on the porch was so relaxed and unprotected because now, today, in 2008, there is no danger there. It is safe. Nothing is exploded and nothing is going to explode. He could lay out on that bench nearly buck-naked and not worry about getting hit by flying debris, because there is no debris.

However, I have a complete and total disconnect with that concept.

I still feel acute danger — tangible, present, run-for-cover danger. I see the blast zone. I know how building parts can fly and where people would get hit (depending on where they were standing). And I get the hell out of there anytime I am anywhere near it. I’m not stupid. It blew once, I know it could blow again, at any time. With no warning. Just like last time. When it did happen.

###

I’ve been triggered several times while on Wellbutrin, but this was the first time that I’d been triggered by old family issues. I didn’t know I wasn’t King of that mountain emotionally, and I didn’t know the Same Old Crap™ could trigger me. So now I know.

The fact that it triggered me through the Wellbutrin, tells me that it is a pretty strong trigger, and I need to treat all the classic Same Old Crap™ family issues with a good dose of distance. The farther away I can stay from that B.S., the better.

The fact that it triggered me through the Wellbutrin is also another big fat sign on the wall that MY PTSD IS ALIVE AND WELL. Dammit. Why won’t it just freakin’ go away already?!?!?!?

Stupid thing.