Today was a day of firsts. The first forms filled out for the incorporation of the Jeffry Stijn Foundation. The first pages of its site live. The first emails sent and received bearing a logo. The first day I became the founder of something I truly and passionately believe in.
Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Julie, I live in Aruba. Though I am Dutch by birth, I’m international by parentage and past residency. I love dancing, reading and writing. I love learning new things. My home is besieged by pets, filled with books, surrounded by greenery. My friends are eclectic and softly outspoken, brilliant and kind, open-hearted, open-minded and opinionated.
I also have cPTSD. I was diagnosed with PTSD in my early twenties whilst living in The Netherlands again. Stemming from a time at least 12 years prior to that. It took that long to diagnose because, in general, I excelled in most parts of my life. The sporadic psychologists I spoke to prior to that found me well adjusted and perfectly capable and rational when talking about my experienced overt traumas. They saw no reason to treat me.
I followed intense treatment after my diagnosis in my twenties, and my life improved. Yet I had the nagging feeling that it wasn’t as effective as it should have been; that what I’d learned about PTSD did not completely mesh. This feeling was compounded by a string of professionals who threw various other diagnoses at me; each more ill-fitting than the last.
But I was doing well again, put into practice what I’d learned on a daily basis, and had a full and full-filling life. Was offered an opportunity to return to Aruba to set-up a joint-venture. Made plans, inventoried what I’d need to change and be more mindful of once in a society where knowledge of mental illness and acceptance of it was less than I was used to. Asked my family and closest circle to help with this transition.
And then…a series of unfortunate events, so to speak. One after the other. One crisis to the next. I prioritized everything but my mental wellbeing. No matter how hard I tried to hold on to my much needed balance, no matter how many times I asked for help, the void just grew until I was spent. About 8 years ago I stopped asking for help, and started demanding help and consideration. That backfired. I was fine. Functioned better than most. What kind of selfish individual was I to ask for help when I had all these skills and advantages.
Then I just stopped asking. Waited for the inevitable point when my disease would freeze me into inaction. That happened about 5 years ago. From the moment I finally got professional help once again I was told that here in Aruba, there would be no chance of fitting treatment. There was also no chance of being sent abroad for treatment. My only option was to once again pack everything up, leave and start again elsewhere. I’d done that plenty of times before in my life. The longest I’d ever lived anywhere was just over 4 years. The average prior to this last time in Aruba was less than 2 years.
But at the same time I got lucky. A trauma specialist pointed me towards cPTSD. I started reading. Then studying dissertations and when I could find them, medical studies. For the first time I found that which had been missing – I had been seen and heard – and in return I could see and hear myself again.
I made a choice. I wasn’t going to throw away 15 years of finally putting down roots and building the life I wanted. I wasn’t going to compromise my standard of living. But I also wasn’t going to let the fact that no one had managed to be sent abroad for treatment of mental illness stand in the way of getting that treatment.
A few months ago I got the okay from the insurance company. It’s been ups and downs galore ever since. This week the first intake for my treatment abroad should take place. I’m terrified. And yet…
Today I took the first real steps with this foundation – the seed of which started almost 10 years ago.
Today I walked in the sand and in the surf for the first time in over a year.
Today I had my first panic attack in which I didn’t freeze, but managed to extricate myself from an unsafe situation AND ask for help. My brain went into action-survival instead of inaction-wait for it to pass and deal with the consequences later.
Today was a day of firsts. And it was a good day. An auspicious day. A perfect inaugural day.
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