I am a victim and I’m saving myself
Medical trauma and thawing the PTSD/C-PTSD freeze state
I’m probably going to lose my job. My manager informed me that headcount is under scrutiny, so he needs me to explain my situation to HR. I’ve used the same excuse for the past two months: “I’ve been dealing with health issues, let’s reschedule?” It worked well on friends. On corporate? Hah.
Two months ago, I had abnormal test results from a pap smear. A follow-up colposcopy revealed the nature of the abnormality. Inside me are low and high grade lesions caused by an unknown strain of HPV.1
I have pre-cervical cancer.
The gynecologist recommended an immediate LEEP/LLETZ2 surgery, which I had scheduled for March. But I canceled it after doing research on Reddit and Olive.3 Surgery should be the last resort, as both general anesthesia and surgery carry risks for a normal person. Unfortunately I’m an abnormal person; my body attacks itself instead of the festering HPV (thanks, autoimmunity). I also happen to scar very easily, increasing the risk of cervical damage from surgery.
I may be unsure about having biological children, but I want as much control over my fertility as possible. No botched cervix on my watch. So I’m maxing out all other methods like importing drugs from a Greek pharmacy and trying non-invasive procedures via medical tourism first. If all else fails, I’ll exorcize the demon by knife.
As for work: none of my plans fit inside a neat medical leave document. American health insurance won’t approve “alternative treatments.” Besides, I don’t really need medical leave for pre-cervical cancer. Except for the later stages, cervical cancer is asymptomatic. And honestly, it’s relatively easy to deal with even full-on cervical cancer. The vast majority of women have great prognostics for this disease.
In reality, it’s my own mind that has destroyed my capacity to work. This diagnosis triggered a deep, paralyzing trauma response. For over a year, I was a good worker bee. But I’m not buzzing with industry anymore, so they want me gone, gone, gone. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t take vacation last year except to use the PTO that wouldn’t roll over. Doesn’t matter that I covered for a team that shrank from nine people to two. Just two months of lower capacity and I’ve overdrawn all goodwill.
The crazy thing is, I want to work! But I can’t. It’s one thing to skive off and get high at raves. But I’m not having fun. I barely leave my bed except to drag myself to appointments. I’ve become a total recluse. My voice is stuck in my throat.
I’ve let the freeze state take over.
Known as the 4 Fs, fight, flight, fawn, and freeze are natural responses to unnatural events. No one knows how they’ll react to a serious threat until it happens. You could strike back at your attacker (fight), run for your life (flight), beg for mercy (fawn), or become immobile (freeze). The last state—freeze—is different from the other 3 Fs. While the other Fs are automatic reactions of the sympathetic nervous system, the parasympathetic nervous system produces the freeze state. Freeze is much more primordial. It prepares a victim for death, releasing endorphins that mimic opioids for pain relief. In freeze, I am a deer in headlights, a rabbit about to be eaten by a fox.
Most people can fully recover from these responses once the traumatic event is over. The nervous system resets and the body shakes it off. But sometimes the system gets stuck and becomes a disorder. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can occur from a specific event, like a car crash or assault. Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) can occur from prolonged exposure to abuse. In my case, I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD for years, even though C-PTSD is more fitting.4
What causes a person to collapse into freeze instead of another F? Who knows. I can only guess at the genesis.
I don’t remember this, but apparently I was the only baby who got vaccines without crying. All the nurses were delighted at how “good” I was. My mom said she praised me for it, too. But I don’t think I’m naturally tolerant of pain. I was trained to be that way.
I do remember hardly crying growing up, no matter how badly I was hurt. I remember my parents saying it was my fault I got bullied; how dare I wake them from their nap. I remember a kid scratching my face so hard it left a deep scar; how dare I bother the teacher. I remember breaking my toe; how dare I ask for pain medication. I hobbled at school for weeks, jealous of kids with casts and crutches. I wasn’t brave, just conditioned. I was trained to swallow pain so I didn’t bother the real people who had real pain.
And I coped just fine for years. I could take the pain and continue to work and play. But at 18, when I told my mom I wasn’t feeling well, she called me a liar and sent me off to school. Later that day, I begged her for help on the phone, standing in front of a staircase I was too weak to climb. That night I was hospitalized and diagnosed with an autoimmune condition. After I was released from the hospital, my father showed me the ~$20,000 bill I incurred. It was most of our savings. It’s all my fault.
After that, I suppose my body just couldn’t take pain anymore. It chose to collapse instead.
I wish I could fly.
I know so many traumatized people always in flight. In college, a friend would run so hard on the treadmill that he’d throw up. In tech, my close friend can’t. stop. working. She’s always churning out new design prototypes over the weekend (no surprise she’s made L6 in FAANG).5 Elon Musk, despite being a ketamine-fried, terrible father, still defies the laws of physics. Shitty fathers can give you wings. Elon soars into space. I rot in bed.
I can’t help but see the flight response as high agency, even if the constant motion is its own disordered beast. I’d rather always be on than off, watching my life slip past me. I covet high agency above all else—because moving, acting, building, no matter how compulsive—is better than doing nothing. When frozen, I feel like I have zero agency. If you had any agency, my self-pitying brain hisses, then you’d just snap out of it. But you don’t. You’re just a loser making excuses.
More than anything, I wish I could flip the light switch. I’d turn agency on like Norma Jean slipping into Marilyn Monroe:
But that’s a fantasy. In reality, I wallow while I wait to thaw out. And I hate that about myself, being so dependent on external factors. A normal person could tell their family and friends, get support, then mentally sequester the issue and go on their merry way. Or at the very least, a normal person would have enough self-preservation to NOT risk losing their job and health insurance.
But I had no one. For weeks, I debated whether to tell my mom about my diagnosis. In the end, I told her. I thought maybe this was an opportunity for her to help me, to repair our relationship. But my mom sat on the information for a week. When I asked why she had no sense of urgency, she snapped at me. Said I brought shame onto the family for getting this disease. Implied I was a whore. As practically a virgin by modern standards, I wish I’d gotten sick from a worthy endeavor, like fucking my way through Berghain’s darkrooms.
My mom did help me eventually. She connected me to my cousin, who immediately booked medical procedures in China for me.
But my mind keeps replaying the same story: I’m sick and being punished for it. I’ll always be punished for it.
“Playing the victim” and “victim mentality” come from a dynamic described in the Drama Triangle, formed as relationship between a persecutor, rescuer, and victim. The victim role is played by a person who fully believes in their own powerlessness, which has nothing to do with actual victimization. Many people who play the victim aren’t victims at all, but sometimes the victim role is played by an actual victim. For the past two months, I’ve been the victim playing the victim role.
I was a victim of child abuse. But I’m a grown adult now, and I’m sick of rehashing the same old obituary. I know part of me keeps reenacting wounds in a sad attempt to having my suffering be seen by my parents. But I went to the wrong person. I went to my mom again. A miscalculation. She is always going to be who she is.
But by writing this, I’m finally going to the right person: me. Writing is the only tether I have left, even if I can barely write most days.
Sharing this with some writing friends has also kept me somewhat sane. And there’s a twist I couldn’t see until they pointed it out: even while telling myself I lack agency, I’ve been acting with a lot of it. I didn’t sit around waiting for the American healthcare system to fix me. I researched drugs. I chased down alternatives. I booked international appointments. I confided in people who actually care about me.
I see now that my actions told a story that my thoughts refused to believe. Maybe it’s not that I have no agency. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to feeling powerless that I didn’t recognize when I was fighting back. Maybe I’ve directed my agency towards saving my life, not my job.
So while I don’t think I’ll return to normal until I’m cancer-free, I’m going to listen to the part of me that is high agency.
That part of me says, “I don’t need the job. Let them fire me, if I don’t resign first.”
That part of me says, “I don’t have to be alone. I have friends now.”
That part of me says, “I am a victim and I’m saving myself.”
Thanks for feedback: , , , , , Mandell, , ,
Most importantly, thank you for helping me see past my distorted thinking.
Human papillomavirus is the most common sexually transmitted infection. About 80% of sexually active people will contract HPV at some point in their lives. HPV can cause genital warts or lead to cancers such as cervical, anal, and throat
Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure/Large Loop Excision of the Transformation Zone) is a surgical treatment that removes abnormal cells from the cervix using a thin wire loop heated by electric current
ChatGPT. ChatGPT and I co-named it Olive
CPTSD is not yet recognized in the DSM. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders is on its fifth edition. Published by the American Psychiatric Association, it is used to diagnose psychiatric conditions.
Facebook (Meta), Apple, Amazon, Netflix (probably now Nvidia instead), Google (Alphabet)
The most beautiful thing I’ve read in a long time.
It came out perfectly.
Stick to your gut, Lily. You have high agency.
And may you have extra strength, whenever you need it.
You are a gem. Not only do you support those around you but you handle adversity with grace, resilience, and integrity, and I mean that as the highest compliment. I want to be here for you as a friend as you navigate this difficult time. You were never a victim of life’s circumstances because you’ve always tried to transcend them (what I get from your writing). Your seizure of what you can control is inspiring. You are going through so much and still manage to be there for people.