eighty-five pounds of force per square inch, which is the average for a human punch. The kicks to my head were probably about three and a half times stronger, but still within the ability of my skull to withstand them. But that doesn’t mean that nothing devastating happened inside my head.
The mugging did physical damage to my brain, but it also did psychological damage, a result of being the victim of a violent crime. I was warned I might experience some posttraumatic stress disorder symptoms related to this, and as I read about it, I really began to recognize the feelings I was having. I was becoming afraid to leave my home and afraid to be around people. I couldn’t explain it beyond the fact that people, even my friends, made me feel uncomfortable and suspicious.
From what I understand, it’s completely normal to feel anxious, jumpy, or frightened for some time after something traumatic happens. But when those feelings don’t go away or when they start interfering with everyday life, then it may be PTSD. To understand this better, I needed to look at what had been happening inside my body while I was being attacked.
As I walked out of the bar on the night of the mugging, my body was in a state of homeostasis, or internal equilibrium. But when I was attacked, a part of my brain called the hypothalamus sent out an SOS message, triggering my body’s natural fight-or-flight stress response. A cascade of hormones, including adrenaline and cortisol, flooded into my bloodstream, causing my heart to beat faster and my breathing to quicken. My muscles tensed up so they were ready for action. And my liver started breaking down glycogen (a form of sugar) and converting it into glucose so I’d have the energy to either fight back or run for my life (that’s why they call it the fight-or-flight response). I tried to fight back—remember, I bit that one guy on the thigh! Sometime after the mugging was over, this chemical surge subsided, and my body returned to its state of homeostasis.
The problem is that in some people, when a traumatic event occurs, the body’s stress response system gets out of whack and gets stuck on high alert. Little things, like a door slamming or a telephone ringing, can trigger the fight-or-flight response. It’s like you feel like you’re still under attack even though you’re in the comfort of your own living room. That’s PTSD, and it comes with a laundry list of unpleasant symptoms, including flashbacks, insomnia, nightmares, being easily startled, and more. I found myself exhibiting some of the most classic PTSD symptoms: reliving the mugging over and over, avoiding situations that reminded me of the event, and feeling both numb and overstimulated at the same time.
It turns out that, according to the National Center for PTSD, there are about 7.7 million Americans who suffer from the condition. I was surprised to learn that not everyone who suffers a trauma gets PTSD. In fact, most people who live through some form of trauma don’t develop the condition. Why are so many people able to handle the stress while others, like me, can’t seem to get over it? Experts say that it depends in part on the intensity of the traumatic event as well as the amount of support a person gets afterward. But that’s not all. Genetics and past traumas can also play a role in the likelihood of someone developing PTSD.
I was beginning to realize that my situation put me at higher risk for the condition. I had gotten injured in the mugging, felt like I had no control during the event, and wasn’t getting adequate support in the aftermath. At the time, I was so laser-focused on the mugging as the trigger for my PTSD that I didn’t even stop to think about how other life events might have contributed to the problem. It wasn’t until much later that I would realize that my parents’ numerous divorces and remarriages, the death of my infant son, and other family troubles might have had something to do with it