PTSD and 1st anniversary refelctions

It's been a long time since I last blogged, but there are lots of reasons to get behind my computer and write today.

For one thing, it's the one year anniversary of The Boy in the Hoodie being officially released into the world.

It's been such a long journey that it feels surreal that it has only been one year. In my mind, The Boy in the Hoodie is much older than just one year. It was birthed during the month of November (during NaNoWriMo) four years ago. So in some in some ways, today I'm also remembering the novel's conception all those years ago.

But today I don't want to focus on the novel, The Boy in the Hoodie, so much as I do on one aspect of the protagonist, Kat, as we find her at the end of the novel. Due to her experiences, in the end we are given some insight into her journey with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The scenes that show some of what Kat went through with her PTSD are not completely fiction. I am an outsider looking in, watching my own daughter go through her own PTSD experience.

And I've got to tell you, some days it is crazy, super difficult to watch on from the outside.

In my paid job, as an Inclusive Education Teacher, I speak to a lot of parents about their experiences with their children growing up. I've listened to them speak about the realisation that there was something different about their child, that their experiences as a parent were different from those of their friends around them. And then, come the diagnosis, they speak of the steep learning curve of trying to work out what exactly the diagnosis means for them and their child, and some of the grief that comes with that. It's not easy to watch your child struggle. It's not obvious how you should parent them now. It isn't easy to sift through the myriad of information we now have available to us (thanks to Google) and find what is true, what strategies are appropriate, and what is going to work for your family. Every day seems to be trial and error of working out this new reality.

I had no idea when I began working as an Inclusive Ed Teacher that I would come to know first hand what it was like to be one of those parents. But it happened. After a year of counselling sessions and psychologist visits, followed by a few trips to a terrific local psychiatrist, my daughter was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Social Anxiety.

Fast forward a couple of years to last night, my daughter and I sat in the toilet cubicle together (yes, I crawled under the door to get to her, because I love and care for her that much) and formulated a plan for the evening. It was all I could do to not cry with her as she talked about how difficult the night was and how much she really, really, didn't want to do it. And the truth was, she didn't have to do it. She could have retreated to the car and not walked up on stage to get her awards. She could have sat outside and not watched her amazing and beautiful friends received their leadership positions for next year. She could have buried her head in the proverbial sand tried to pretend it wasn't happening. But instead, I watched my incredibly strong and brave daughter do exactly what she did not want to do.

And yes, I cried. While my best friend sat beside me so excited, as she knew her son would shortly be named School Captain for 2019, I cried. And she still managed to support me. I shouldn't have needed it. I should have been stronger. I wish I could have been more brave.

And so this is where my pride resides: Not in the multitude of academic awards my daughter received last night, but in the fact that she was there. She got up on stage. With all the braveness a young woman can muster, she shook her teacher's hand, walked across the stage and took up her position with her cohort. And she continued to stand in front of all those people until it was time to walk off the stage. And then, she walked back into the auditorium to watch her best friends (and she has a heck of a lot of really top quality, amazing friends) take out award after award and the positions of responsibilities as the 2019 leaders of the school. My heart screamed for her, knowing it would be hurting her to be there watching (and to not be up there, joining in with them). My emotions streamed down my face as I ran through all the what-ifs of her life and asked yet again, for the hundredth time, why God has put it on her to carry this burden. I know His ways are perfect. I know His plan for her is to prosper her. I know she has already handed over her plans for her life into His safe hands. I know it is not my fault she has PTSD. I know. I know. I know.

Today is a new day. And so today, for me, is very much about celebrating my daughter and her incredible strength and resilience. I am so immensely proud of her. I hope you see some of that in Kat, too, as you read the final chapters of The Boy in the Hoodie. The way she pressed on and stayed true to who she had become and worked around her PTSD to achieve the goals she had placed before her. And I hope you noticed the joy and the pride from Kat's family as they rallied around her to help her see the amazing young lady she was becoming.

So instead of writing more short stories and doing some advertising for The Boy in the Hoodie, which was what I had planned for today, instead I'm going to take my daughter out for lunch. We'll go op shopping and hang out and spend the day recovery from the exhaustion that was the 2018 Academic Awards Ceremony. And I'll continue to be incredibly grateful to have such a daughter, who is so giving of herself and her talents, and who will continue to be my inspiration when writing strong female characters who push on through hardship with kindness and determination.

Photo: *Insert photo of my daughter* But I won't include a photo, because although she gave me her permission to write about her PTSD, she doesn't need the world to know exactly who it is I'm writing about. Instead, picture a beautiful girl with long brown hair and a smile that lights up a room when she walks into it - sorry, I know that's cliched, but I'm sure the someone who penned that cliche did so with her in mind.

It is the 1st anniversary release day. Have you not read The Boy in the Hoodie and want a copy? Find me on Social Media and send me a message and I'll see what I can do to get you one.

You can connect with Catriona through social media here