How My Body Changed After My Father’s Death
A story of how trauma can affect how your body functions.
What is the worst thing that ever happened to you? Do you know? Is it a clear-cut answer or do you have to think about it?
Well, for me, my answer is crystal clear. My father tragically passed away 5 days after my 19th birthday. I remember that night, and the erratic disorientation I experienced after my mother told me what happened.
“Dad tried to kill himself, we need to go to the hospital!”
Tried turned into completed. I knew my life would never be the same again.
The Ins-and-Outs of my tragedy is a story for another day. But you needed to know a little bit of background before I explain what happened to me physiologically. A complete phenomenon that caused frustration and confusion for myself and others in my life.
What came first was the inability to swallow. Yes, like actually swallow food or liquids or take pills. It was as if my throat had closed up, denying my body any sustenance. Anything that wasn’t incredibly easy to get down, like foods that dissolved in my mouth within 5 seconds, I couldn’t eat.
My anxiety spiked to an all-time high. This made it nearly impossible to go out with people, especially to lunch or dinner. But that day in my college cafeteria, just a couple of months after my dad took his life, I tried to eat pizza. Mentally, I told myself to “go for it” and “just don’t think about it” so that I could enjoy eating a delicious meal with friends. But it can be difficult for the mind to trick itself. Like my psychologist always said: “What do you think about when I tell you not to think about pink elephants?” Of course, the largest, pinkest elephant my imagination could conjure up appeared in my mind.
I choked. Or at least I thought I did. I felt the cheese glide down my throat and all of a sudden, I couldn’t get it down. I couldn’t breathe and I panicked. My face turned a purplish-blue and my first college friend almost jumped into action to give me the Heimlich. Tears flooded my eyes and dripped down my face in embarrassment. I forced liquid down my throat so that I could feel it dilate again. As a college freshman that just lost her father, I didn’t know what was happening to me or why and I couldn’t have felt more defeated.
But this didn’t just happen with food. I spent hours in the ER one night after I had been so dehydrated from not drinking. I kid you not, every time I tried to sip water or Gatorade, I became hysterical and gasped for air. When I was prescribed anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication, I was petrified to get it down. For years, even some days now, whenever I had to take my medications, I needed to have a full glass of water, my boyfriend holding my hand with encouragement, and a warrior-like spirit just to get a sprinkle-sized pill down the pipe. Every night, it was like going into a war zone without armor.
A year or two passed and I started noticing a change in my breathing, mainly at night. I coughed incessantly, even when there was no mucus in my lungs.
“Your lungs sound great! Healthy and clear” my doctor would say.
I told him that it felt like I could never take a deep breath and that I would force myself to cough at night which caused the muscles around my ribs to spasm. There was nothing he could do. There were no signs of distress when I went, so he chalked it up to anxiety. Although this did give me some peace of mind that I didn’t have a fatal disease, I was more confused than ever.
One day I went to my psychiatrist appointment on the college campus. I explained to him my troubles with swallowing the pills he gave me and how my breathing hasn’t been the same. Of course, he asked me when all of this started.
“Right after my dad died,” I told him.
He knew my dad died of uncommon asphyxiation in suicide victims. That’s when the light bulb went off. He told me about the concept of psychosomatic illnesses and how my trauma is the reason why I am experiencing sensations similar to the way my father died. I was shocked. I was relieved. I was overwhelmed.
How could mental stress and extreme trauma cause such physiological debilitation?
The mind and the body work in tandem; so much so that someone with schizophrenia can feel bugs crawling on their skin, or someone with major depressive and panic disorder can convince themselves of bodily changes.
Well, after graduating from nursing school, I became a psychiatric nurse and have seen similar situations like the torture I experienced. What is interesting is that I still have breathing difficulties. I still can’t swallow water without making an annoyingly loud gulping noise. My psychosomatic symptoms have not completely gone away, even after studying psychology and physiology for so long.
But I can tell you this: With perseverance, determination, and willingness to walk through the flames, I have conquered the majority of my symptoms. I no longer need to eat cracker-like foods that easily slip down my throat. I can eat chicken, lettuce, carrots and so much more! I no longer break down trying to swallow pills. I break them in half, stare in the mirror, and chug that water! I am in a 100% better place than I was 7 years ago, and for that I am grateful.
So, if you take away anything at all from this story, take away this: Breakdowns, both mentally and physically are normal to human nature. At first, it will be scary, confusing, and downright horrible, but remember that humans were carved from resilience. We thrive off of overcoming adversity. No matter what your trauma is, you will make it through, and emerge stronger than when you started. Even if it takes a little time.
