My Journey
How do you explain a wound no one can see?
How do you convince people that you’re hurting when you have no scars to show?
For years, I struggled to answer these questions, even to myself. On the outside, I looked fine. I could smile, hold a conversation, and push through my day like everyone else. But inside, I was fighting a battle that never seemed to end.
PTSD doesn’t always announce itself with dramatic outbursts or visible distress. Sometimes, it’s the quiet moments—the restless nights, the panic that strikes without warning, the exhaustion of pretending everything is normal.
I learned this the hard way.
The Moment I Knew Something Was Wrong
I was teaching four days a week, pouring everything I had into my students. By the time I got home, I was completely drained—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
I told myself it was just exhaustion from work, that I’d bounce back after a good night’s sleep. But sleep didn’t come easily. And even when it did, I still woke up feeling like I hadn’t rested at all.
I started turning down invitations—first, it was small things. Dinner with my husband? Maybe another night. Industry networking events? Too overwhelming. Catching up with friends? I just didn’t have the energy.
At first, I made excuses.
- "I’m just busy."
- "It’s been a long week."
- "I’ll go next time."
Everything just felt hard—getting out of bed, starting my day, even the things I once loved. I felt like I was carrying a weight I couldn’t put down, and no one could see it.
Worst of all, I felt so alone. I was surrounded by people every day—students, colleagues, my husband—but inside, I felt like I was screaming into silence.
That’s when I started to realize... this wasn’t just stress. This wasn’t just work burnout. Something was wrong.
Why I Didn’t Ask for Help (At First)
I never thought I could have PTSD.
I wasn’t a combat veteran. I hadn’t deployed overseas. In my mind, PTSD was something that happened to soldiers who had been in firefights, who had seen war firsthand. Not someone like me.
So, when I started feeling overwhelmed, when anxiety started creeping into my everyday life, I dismissed it. This can’t be PTSD. That’s not what happens to people like me.
But as time went on, my work as a lecturer in a vocational college started triggering memories I had buried long ago. The way certain situations played out in the classroom, the isolation from other co-workers, the way I felt under pressure—it all started reflecting my annus horribilis, my worst year in the military.
It wasn’t war memories that haunted me—it was the feeling of never being good enough.
The bullying from those who outranked or were the same rank as me. The harassment that made me question my place. The feeling of being the butt of other people’s jokes. The mundane drills—shooting practice, recruit training, endless routine, yet all tied to a period of my life that left scars I couldn’t see.
I started reliving those memories in ways I didn’t expect. Small things—a certain tone of voice, an interaction with a student, a situation where I felt out of control—would send me right back. I felt trapped, as if I was stuck in an endless loop of proving myself over and over again.
But instead of telling anyone, I kept it to myself. Because in the military, you don’t talk about these things.
I had been conditioned to "push through, suck it up, keep moving forward." Admitting I was struggling? That wasn’t an option.
And deep down, I was terrified.
- What if telling someone meant I’d lose my job?
- What if they thought I was weak?
- What if I wasn’t really “bad enough” to need help?
The Turning Point
The moment that pushed me over the edge wasn’t dramatic—it wasn’t some massive breakdown or a sudden realization. It was something far more subtle yet deeply cutting.
I was "targeted" for a voluntary redundancy. This meant that I was offered the opportunity to volunteer to take the redundancy, supposedly my decision. Yet it did not feel like that.
After 13 years of working as a lecturer in a vocational college, it was as if none of it mattered. No recognition, no appreciation—just a cold, clinical decision made without any regard for what I had given to that place.
But it wasn’t just about the redundancy itself. It was the lack of support leading up to it. The way I was made to feel like I didn’t belong. Like I was disposable.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t just being let go because I was a permanent employee—but because I was someone struggling with mental health.
That was the last straw.
I had been pushing through for so long, convincing myself that I could handle it. But this? This broke something in me.
The overwhelming feeling of rejection, of worthlessness, of being unseen became too much. And for the first time, I admitted to myself:
"I can’t do this alone anymore."
So, I picked up the phone and called Open Arms.
I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t even know where to start. But I knew I needed to talk to someone—anyone—who would understand.
That call changed everything.
What I Wish I Had Known Sooner
If you’re struggling with PTSD—whether you’re a veteran, a teacher, or someone who has survived trauma—I want you to know this:
- You are not weak for feeling this way. PTSD is not a character flaw—it’s a real, human response to trauma.
- You don’t have to do this alone. There are people who understand, who have walked this road, and who are ready to support you.
- Healing isn’t linear. There’s no straight path to recovery, no perfect formula. Some days will feel better than others. Some days will be harder. And that’s okay. Healing doesn’t mean the past disappears—it means you learn to carry it differently.
- There is no “cure,” but there are ways to manage it. PTSD doesn’t just vanish one day. But you can learn to work with your mind, instead of against it. Understanding yourself—your triggers, your patterns, your strengths—is the best way to take back control. Empowerment comes from knowledge.
- Everything is a tool in your toolbox—use them regularly. Therapy, breathing exercises, grounding techniques, movement, connection, creativity—these aren’t just things to try once and forget. Use them, practice them, and don’t let them become rusty. The more you engage with them, the stronger your ability to manage your symptoms becomes.
- Medication is not the only option. While medication can be helpful for some, it’s not the only way to make life liveable. There are alternatives. Lifestyle changes, therapy, TMS, mindfulness, exercise, community, and even small daily habits can all play a role in healing. Finding what works for you is key.
Final Thoughts
Looking back, I realize that my biggest battle wasn’t PTSD itself—it was the silence. The fear of admitting I was struggling. The hesitation to reach out.
If this post resonates with you, or if you know someone who might need to hear it, please share it. Let’s break the silence together.
And if you’re struggling right now, let this be your sign: You don’t have to carry this alone. Reach out. Take the first step. You deserve healing.
Want to connect? Send me a message—I’d love to hear your story.
Ready to Take the Next Step?
Need support? Here are some resources that can help:
Disclaimer: I am not a health professional, and this post is based on my personal experience. If you are struggling, please reach out to a qualified health professional or contact one of the resources listed below for assistance.
- Open Arms – Veterans & Families Counselling
Provides free and confidential counselling to support mental health and wellbeing for Australian veterans and their families.
Open Arms - Beyond Blue
Offers support and information on anxiety, depression, and suicide prevention for all Australians.
Beyond Blue - RSL Australia
Provides support and services to veterans and their families, including advocacy, welfare, and community engagement. Reach out to your local sub-branch, state office or RSL Australia.
RSL Australia - Veteran Mindfulness Australia
Offers mindfulness-based programs and resources tailored for veterans to promote mental health and resilience.
Veteran Mindfulness Australia - Lifeline Australia
Provides 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention services for all Australians.
Lifeline Australia - 1800RESPECT
National sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service offering support for people experiencing violence and abuse.
1800RESPECT