P.T.S.D. Rebranded

When I think of post traumatic stress disorder a few things come to mind. One, George Carlin’s stand up skit about hiding truth in soft language. “Shell Shock”, a condition soldiers were diagnosed with after WWI. two syllables that sound like the guns themselves.  Now we have ptsd- eight syllables and softened. The actual human pain becomes buried under jargon. 

I also think about how, what we think about -become words, words become action, and action becomes habit.  So if we keep thinking of the negative, use negative language, it becomes habit.  PTSD, indefinitely.

Then, one day I was babysitting a 7 year old. She wanted to play “summer camp”.  Ok, I’m in! She insisted I ask her what her profession is, as she was bringing in her kids-aka three year old little sister and invisible baby.  No problem, in character, with my pretend clip board and fake glasses.  I asked- what is it that you do for a living m’am? She pondered, tilted her head to one side, looked at the window and said: “I’m a Princess, Teacher, Superhero, and… Dancer.”  Excellent, I exclaimed. 

P.T.S.D. became my new motto.  I acknowledge I have symptoms of shell shock. Truth. Public education will do it to ya.  Then my mind sways to a new acronym; Princess, indeed, spoiled with ancestry.  Teacher, obviously which makes us all superhero’s, and I dance. PTSD rebranded makes me feel strong, confident, and as vibrant as a seven year old girl.