When I sat down to write this week, I intended to write about what it feels like to have PTSD. But as I collected my thoughts on the topic, I quickly realized that there’s no cut-and-dry, simple answer to that question: my PTSD feels different every day. Not only is that difficult to put into words in this format, but it’s difficult to share about with the people I love. And when I’m struggling to name what I’m feeling and what I need, it only adds to the difficulty of connecting with my support system.
I experienced my PTSD for years before I got officially diagnosed with my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was getting regularly triggered, having flashbacks, trauma responses, displaying extreme avoidance, and many other hallmark and nuanced symptoms of PTSD - I just didn’t have a name for what was happening in my body. I remember having several grueling, frustrated conversations with my brothers during this time. They were desperate to connect and understand why I was reacting in the way that I was, and I was at a true loss for words. I couldn’t explain what was happening in my body, what I was feeling or what I needed, and on top of that, there was the intense level of fear about what was happening to me. I had no way of communicating my experience, and no name to give it.
Even now that I have my diagnosis, it’s still challenging to explain what’s happening in my body, but I’m not alone in this experience. Let’s talk about three reasons why it’s difficult for people with PTSD to connect:
1. Broca's Area
Broca’s area is the part of the brain that “Plays a critical part in putting our thoughts into words.” (Hopkins) If you’ve ever spoken to someone whose speech was impaired after having a stroke, that change in speech function is often due to damage in this part of the brain.
In The Body Keeps the Score, written by M.D. and researcher Bessel van der Kolk, research from a study on trauma showed crucial information for understanding how PTSD is affected by Broca’s area. “Without a functioning Broca’s area, you cannot put your thoughts and feelings into words. Our scans showed that Broca’s area went offline whenever a flashback was triggered." (van der Kolk p.43)
At a purely scientific level, when I am having a PTSD episode, my brain is not capable of connecting my experience with words. As unbearably difficult as the reaction is, as much as I may wish you could understand, my brain will not be able to explain it to you. Don’t take it personally when your loved one can’t explain their PTSD episodes to you - we’re doing the best we can.
Don't take it personally when your loved one can't explain their PTSD episodes to you - we're doing the best we can.
2. Lack of cause-and-effect reasoning
Another crucial finding in van der Kolk’s research is the significant impact flashbacks have on our ability to use both the left and the right sides of our brain. The left side of our brain is responsible for our ability to reason, to be logical and rational, to put things in sequential order (Broca’s area is located on the left), where the right side of our brain is connected to memory, emotion, intuition, and our tactile experience. In a study done using brain scans on PTSD sufferers during flashbacks, van der Kolk’s research showed that during a PTSD flashback, only the right side of the brain is lit up. In addition to Broca’s area being “offline” during a flashback, stunting the ability to put thoughts and feelings into words, when the left hemisphere as a whole is offline, it negates our ability to sequence events, or piece together a timeline. Van der Kolk writes, “Without sequencing we can’t identify cause and effect, grasp the long-term effects of our actions, or create coherent plans for the future…in technical terms they are experiencing the loss of executive functioning.” (van der Kolk p.45)
In my own experience with PTSD, my inability to tether myself to cause-and-effect reasoning and an understanding of the consequences of my actions has created significant barriers in my ability to connect with others. When my body is experiencing a trauma response, my one and only focus is getting myself out of the perceived danger I’m in. Sometimes this looks like extreme avoidance, emotional outbursts, or hypervigilance (intent alertness to possible threats). Without being able to explain why I am reacting in this way, or what I’m experiencing, my loved ones can’t understand my reaction. I’ve been asked questions like, “Don’t you understand what this will do to (fill in the blank)?” No - I don’t. And that disconnect in understanding and ability to communicate it really gets in the way of meaningful connection.
3. Dissociation
Dissociation is one of the PTSD symptoms I experience most often, and is one of the biggest connection blockers for me in my own life. When I dissociate, my brain is protecting me by mentally removing me from reality. When I get significantly overwhelmed or overloaded, my brain disconnects from the present, because the present is too much to handle. Physically, I may be right in front of you, but mentally, I am fully detached. When I am detached, or dissociated, I don’t feel anything at all.
I was recently engaged in an overwhelming conversation for an extended period of time. At the beginning of the conversation, I could feel my body coursing with panic, and the onset of very clear trauma response indicators - impulsivity, avoidance, fear, anxiety, terror, feeling like I was actively in danger. As this conversation extended itself, however, I became less and less reactive. The conversation itself didn’t lessen in intensity, but my dissociation started to step in. By the end of the conversation, I had no emotional reaction to it at all, and was numb to my surroundings and experiences.
This type of detachment in response to stress-producing stimuli happens to me regularly, but I also have baseline-level symptoms of dissociation that I experience almost all the time. Dissociation makes me feel like reality isn’t real, and that is my near-constant state of being. This feeling of things not being real only adds to the lack of cause-and-effect reasoning and makes things more difficult to sort out in a traumatized brain.
Imagine what it would feel like to feel disconnected from the room around you, untethered to reality, with no emotional responses to the events or conversations around you. Do you think you’d feel especially connected in a conversation with someone you love? Especially if Broca’s area is offline, impacting your ability to put thoughts and feelings into words, and you have no sense of the consequences of your words and actions. Dissociation causes huge barriers for those with PTSD to connect - which, of course, in the moment we often struggle to explain.
That’s why I created this free resource and uploaded it to The Vault this week:
If you’re interested in learning how it can help you connect not only with your people, but also with yourself, check out this blog post. And, as always, when trying to connect with someone who has PTSD, compassion and patience are your most valuable resources. As with so many aspects of PTSD, it is out of our control whether Broca’s area is online or not, whether both sides of our brain are working together, or whether we’re dissociated or present. Remember not to take these responses personally - they have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with our body’s systems of protection. We’re doing the best we can.
Sign up below for free access to The Vault, and leave a message in the comments to let us know how using this week’s companion sheets helped you connect with the ones you love!
Sources Used in this Post:
"Broca’s Area Is the Brain’s Scriptwriter, Shaping Speech, Study Finds." Johns Hopkins Medicine, 17 Feb. 2015, www.hopkinsmedicine.org/news/media/releases/brocas_area_is_the_brains_scriptwriter_shaping_speech_study_finds#:~:text=Broca%27s%20area%20is%20a%20key,the%20movements%20of%20the%20mouth. Accessed 27 Oct. 2023.
Van der Kolk, Bessel M.D. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body In the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books, 2014. pp. 43-45.
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