Even if they had not heard of PTSD it would be nice just to feel like I do not need to prepare myself a defence against presumptions or prejudice. I am still the person I was a minute ago before I told you. (Nervous Comics)
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder: illustrating my experience

How can I help?

The aim of the Time to Change campaign is to encourage us all to be more about our mental health, and to start conversations with those who might need our support.

Why not find out how you could start a conversation about mental health?

You could share a blog story to raise awareness. You could sign up to receive Time to Change emails. And, you might want to add your name to our pledge wall, joining the thousands of people who are taking small steps to be more open about mental health.

Personal blogs about living with post traumatic stress disorder

The following blog posts are written by people with personal experience of post traumatic stress disorder. By talking openly, our bloggers hope to increase understanding around mental health, break down stereotypes and take the taboo out of something that – like physical health – affects us all.

Find out more about post traumatic stress disorder from Mind and the NHS.

The reality of living with post-traumatic stress disorder

My story starts two years ago; I was involved in quite a bad car crash. I passed my driving test when I was 19, drove for about a year and then sold my car and started driving again two years ago (I’m now 25). It took a lot of courage to start driving again. I got a new job, which I needed a car for and I was excited and full of confidence! I had the car a week when the accident happened - it felt like I lost all my confidence in a matter of seconds. The lady’s decision to pull out in front of me, across a dual carriageway, changed my life and it was beyond my control.

Others are more ashamed of my mental health problems than me

"Crazy Eddie".

"Crazy Eddie" is a nickname one of my British school teachers gave me when I was attending primary school in West Africa, in an end of term review. I faked laughing along as I was mocked, as I had become accustomed to it, and beamed a deceitful smile. It became one of the few coping mechanisms I adopted while in denial. However, the embarrassment I used to face at that particular school was not always humoured like this.

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