Living With Invisible Traces Of PTSD When Everything Looks Fine On The Outside

Add as a preferred source on Google

After her recent accident Mahi felt the weight of something unfinished inside.The present looked fine, the past seemed mostly in place except for the gap of that one year.

She still hadn't spoken to her mother about it. Mom had enough going on, her heart issues, the constant fatigue, the hospital visits. Mahi called her every few days, asked about medications, listened patiently to her stories and laughed when her mother asked her if she was eating on time.

But every time the words 'Mom, do you know what happened to me last year?' reached her lips, they never came out. She just couldn't do it.

The realization that she had forgotten a year started with an offhand comment at work.

Her colleague Priya was complaining about the chaos of last year's office retreat.

"Remember how you disappeared halfway through the second day?" Priya laughed. "Everyone thought you ran off to meet your mystery boyfriend."

Mahi blinked. "What retreat?"

Priya looked confused. "The one in Lonavala? Last June? You were there, Mahi. You gave the opening presentation."

Mahi smiled tightly and nodded, but the edges of her mind felt fuzzy. She had no memory of any retreat.

Later that week, during coffee with her college friends, someone mentioned a weekend getaway.

"Last August? Mahi, you bailed last-minute after saying you'd come. You texted that you were sick, but honestly, we figured it was your boyfriend."

Mahi frowned. "Which trip?"

"The Alibaug one. You do remember what happened to Neha that time, you out of all should know" No, she didn't. Not the trip. Not the texts. Not even the mention of the boyfriend. She didn't even know she had one. The laughter around her table continued, but her hands had gone cold around her cup. It wasn't just a foggy memory. It was gone. And in its place was a sinking feeling in her stomach-like something had been erased, not just forgotten.

"Anu," she said hesitantly, "last year... was I dating someone?"

A pause. Then Ananya's voice softened. "Yeah. You were. For almost a year, I think?"

"Did I... ever talk about him?"

"Not really. You told us you were seeing someone, but you never said his name. When we asked, you'd brush it off. Said you liked keeping things private."

Mahi felt a chill move through her. "Did I seem happy?"

Another pause.

"I don't know, Mahi. You were... different. Quieter. Harder to reach. But we all thought maybe you were just busy. You've always been a bit closed off when things get serious."

Mahi thanked her and hung up, her mind spinning.

So, she had a boyfriend and a secret one. One she never told anyone about. Not really. She couldn't remember his face, his name, his voice. But her body did. In quiet ways-her jumpy reflexes, the way she couldn't stand raised voices, how she hated the sound of doors closing too loudly.

And now the question that wouldn't stop spinning in her chest: If she was in a relationship... where was he when she was in the hospital? Why didn't he show up?

The answer she feared was the one her instincts were already whispering.

Because he was the reason she ended up there in the first place.

And that terrified her.

She had his number somewhere. Probably. Maybe in some old messages or emails. But every time she thought of trying to find him, her stomach twisted with a kind of fear she couldn't name.

So she didn't.

Not yet.

Instead, she began writing everything down. The dreams. The flashes. The questions. It helped. A little.

A week after that call with Ananya, Mahi sat at her desk, staring at her laptop screen, trying to focus on work. But the question wouldn't leave her alone.

Where was he when I was hurt?

She pushed her chair back and stepped out onto the balcony for air. The sun was soft that morning, filtering through bougainvillea vines that framed the neighboring building.

That's when she saw him.

A man on a ladder, fixing the railing of the apartment just opposite hers. He had a toolbox balanced precariously beside him and was muttering something to himself while trying to keep a screw from falling.

She wasn't trying to stare but he looked so completely absorbed, so unbothered by the world, it made her pause.

The screw slipped from his hand and bounced off the step. "Perfect," he sighed.

"You'll definitely break something," Mahi said before she could stop herself.

He looked up, startled, then grinned. "Hopefully not a limb."

She didn't expect him to talk back. Most people didn't. She half-smiled.

A few minutes later, he was back on solid ground. He looked over at her across the balconies, not too close, just polite.

"Thanks for the warning," he said. "Siddharth."

She nodded. "Mahi."

"New tenant," he added. "And aspiring handyman, apparently."

"Clearly," she said, unable to help the small curl at the corner of her lips.

Over the next few days, she saw him again-taking out the trash, checking his mailbox, carrying groceries. Always with a kind of casual, easy presence. Never loud. Never lingering. Just... there.

One evening, she found herself outside her door at the same time as him. He held the gate open for her without a word.

"Thanks," she said and parted with a nod.

They barely talked but it left Mahi feeling something she hadn't felt in a while: a flicker of connection.

Still, her nights were haunted.

The nightmares came without warning. Sometimes she'd wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like she'd just escaped something. She didn't scream. She never made noise. Just curled into herself and waited for her breathing to slow.

And the next morning, she'd sit on the balcony with a cup of tea and watch the world move on-like nothing had happened.

One morning, she found a little note slipped under her door.

"If you ever want company for morning tea... My balcony is less dramatic than yours, but the view's decent. - Sid."

She stood with the note in her hand, unsure whether to smile or cry.

Mahi didn't know why she said yes that morning. Maybe it was because of the way the silence in her apartment had started to feel heavier than usual.

She crossed the narrow lane between their buildings and climbed the stairs to Siddharth's flat. His door was open. Music played softly from inside-something acoustic and unfamiliar.

"Hey," he said, surprised but smiling as he saw her in the doorway. "Wow. Didn't think you'd actually show up."

"I almost didn't," she admitted.

He stepped aside. "Glad you did."

His balcony was simple, just two chairs and a small table with chipped paint. A steaming pot of tea sat between them. No drama. No pressure. Just warmth.

They sat in silence at first, sipping slowly.

"I added ginger and too much cardamom," he said after a few minutes. "Sorry if it's a mess."

She took another sip. "It's oddly perfect."

He looked relieved, then turned quiet again. There was a weight in the air, but not uncomfortable-like both of them were holding something they weren't sure how to say.

And then, out of nowhere, Siddharth spoke.

"I know this might sound completely cringe," he said, eyes focused on the steam rising from his cup, "but the first time I saw you... I don't know. I think I fell in love. Or something like it. Not in a cheesy way. Not even in a 'let's go out' way. Just... I saw you, and I haven't stopped thinking about you since."

Mahi froze.

He looked up, panic flashing across his face. "I'm not flirting. I swear. You don't have to say anything. I just-"

But she wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes filled, lips trembled, and before she could stop it, the tears came. Heavy, aching sobs she had been holding in for months.

Siddharth's eyes widened. " Oh no Mahi I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you"

She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. "It's not you. It's not what you said. I just.."

He waited, carefully, not touching her, not moving closer. Just staying where he was.

"I don't remember a year of my life," she whispered, voice cracking. "I was in an accident and I think I was in a relationship and I also think it was bad. No-I know it was. I have flashes. Panic. Nightmares. And I didn't tell anyone. Not my mom. Not my best friends. No one. I shut everyone out."

Her breath caught.

"I'm scared to find out what happened and of what I'll remember. And sometimes I hate myself for not saying anything when I should have. For being so alone."

Siddharth was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, softly:

"Okay. Let's forget about the love part. For now, that can wait. Honestly, it's not even important right now."

She looked at him, eyes red, searching for any sign of pity. There was none.

"I'm here, Mahi. As a friend. As someone who's just... here. You don't have to go through this alone anymore."

Something inside her softened. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding herself together until she finally let go.

And for the first time since the accident, she smiled. A real one. Small, tired, but real.

What is PTSD?

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition triggered by experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. For a diagnosis, symptoms must persist for over a month and significantly interfere with daily life and emotional wellbeing.

PTSD symptoms are grouped into four categories:

1. Intrusion

These are unwanted and distressing experiences such as flashbacks, nightmares, or sudden emotional distress when reminded of the trauma.

2. Avoidance

This involves avoiding reminders-whether places, people, conversations, or even thoughts and emotions-that are connected to the trauma.

Mahi's first inkling that something was wrong came during a casual conversation with her colleague Priya, who joked about the previous year's office retreat. Mahi had no memory of attending. A few days later, her friends mentioned a trip to Alibaug and a mysterious boyfriend she'd supposedly prioritized over them. Again, Mahi couldn't recall any of it. It wasn't a vague memory-it was a complete blank. An entire year seemed to be missing.

3. Changes in Thinking and Mood

PTSD can affect emotional balance and thinking. This may show up as persistent guilt, negative beliefs about oneself or the world, numbness, detachment, or memory loss around the traumatic event.

Mahi had jumpy reflexes, she couldn't stand raised voices and hated the sound of doors closing too loudly. She flinched at such loud sounds that told her something wasn't right. Her memory loss of that one year of her life only deepened her confusion and anxiety.

4. Alterations in Arousal and Reactivity

This includes being easily startled, hypervigilant, having trouble sleeping, irritability, and difficulty concentrating.

Mahi struggled to sleep and focus. Nightmares left her shaken. She avoided looking for direct answers, despite suspecting her boyfriend's contact was still saved somewhere. Instead, she started journaling her dreams, scattered memories, and questions. It became her way of processing the unknown.

PTSD In Children

In children, PTSD can sometimes mimic ADHD symptoms-restlessness, difficulty focusing, or disorganization. If the trauma is unknown or the child cannot express it, accurate diagnosis becomes even more challenging.

While Mahi is an adult, her story illustrates how PTSD often hides in plain sight. Because she hadn't shared what she was experiencing, no one could recognize the signs or help.

The Serious Impact Of PTSD

PTSD can significantly increase the risk of depression, anxiety, substance use, and even suicidal thoughts or actions.

What Causes PTSD In Some And Not Others?

Not everyone who experiences trauma develops PTSD. An estimated 61% to 80% of people go through traumatic events, but only 5% to 10% develop the disorder.

Risk factors include:

• Experiencing trauma during childhood
• Prolonged or repeated exposure to trauma
• Lack of support after the trauma
• Intense feelings of helplessness or fear during the event
• Pre-existing mental health issues
• Certain types of trauma, such as combat or sexual assault

Biological elements also play a role. PTSD has been associated with changes in brain function, particularly in areas like the amygdala, hippocampus, and medial prefrontal cortex. Imbalances in stress hormones such as cortisol may also contribute.

The Importance Of Support And Awareness

Recovery is possible. Support often comes in subtle, unexpected ways. Mahi's turning point came with a kind neighbor named Siddharth. He offered small gestures of kindness-an open balcony, a shared cup of tea, a quiet presence.

She told him her truth: the memory gap, the unspoken fear, the sense of isolation. He didn't try to fix her story. He simply stayed.

Sometimes, healing begins not with answers, but with being seen, heard, and accepted.

Healing Begins With Recognition

PTSD may be invisible, but its effects are deep. Recognizing the signs, listening without judgment, and simply staying can help someone begin to heal. Mahi's story highlights that recovery doesn't begin with answers. It begins with presence.

If you or someone you know is struggling with PTSD, reach out. You are not alone.

Disclaimer: The information provided in this article is for general informational and educational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or a qualified healthcare provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition.