Fear Was My Mindkiller - by Patrick Maguire
I am immensely skeptical of anything that claims to be an instant fix – a way to immediately solve a thorny and persistent problem. I’m especially skeptical of these kinds of claims where mental health is involved. I find most growth and healing is the work of years, if not a lifetime. In my decade of attempting to figure myself out, I’ve found one (partial) exception to this – EMDR therapy.
I spent the vast majority my first month back home hiding away in my childhood bedroom. I emerged to eat, buy books, buy beer, and exchange a few sentences with my parents. My main focus was video games and sleeping. Every morning for the first two weeks I immediately jolted awake. For the first six months I was hyper aware of any sound remotely resembling a gunshot. All unpleasant symptoms, but as they faded I assumed I was getting back to normal. I thought I had recovered from my ten months in South Sudan, working at a hospital for Doctors Without Borders. Instead, I’d end up living in a state of fear for the next fifteen years.
The exact details of what happened in South Sudan aren’t particularly relevant. I was near and exposed to a lot of violence and I witnessed death of all sorts. I spent many months feeling deeply unsafe, paired with a deep lack of trust in those responsible for my safety. I was never directly attacked, and absolutely did not have as bad of an experience as many of my colleagues had, let alone many South Sudanese. But I was also twenty-six, in way over my head, and had none of the tools I needed to process the incredible range of emotions I was experiencing.
