By Trinity Chenault
Caption: Me at my high school graduation. I’m dressed in a royal blue and true red graduation gown as a smile and raise my hand towards the camera.
Growing up, my childhood best friend always referred to things that would happen to me as “comedically evil.” As I thought I was finally at the finish line of the dark comedy that had been ages 0 to 16, I got a boyfriend. Do I know why I got a boyfriend? No. I don’t even like men, and I remember telling him verbatim, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna do this again,” referring to dating a man. That being said, this was my series of unfortunate events. He made himself the shit-flavored icing on the cake of the bullshit that had been my life up until that point. And set in stone that I, Trinity Chenault, had earned myself a new diagnosis.
Thankfully, the summer before my Sophomore year, we broke up. I entered this year with a plan: fix it. From a very young age, I’ve made it a point to work on my mental health so I wouldn’t become a statistic. Naturally, this made me hungry for resources to “fix” my problem. Hunting for these quickly proved impossible.
The lack of consideration for those with trauma-related disabilities became most apparent when I sat down with my university’s accommodation coordinator.
Every time I mentioned a symptom and how it could be accommodated, I was told there wasn’t a framework for them to provide said accommodation. I wasn’t asking for much. The main thing I needed was an extension on absences. Which wasn’t something they could give me. The closest I got was an extension on assignments because of my ADHD. This wasn’t going to make my life easier; I could do my work, but I needed more time at home than the average student. Deciding not to argue, I cut my losses and went back to my dorm.
Accommodations for those with Complex Post=Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD} in academia would look like extensions of absences. An outline of triggering material in courses, or even a priority for single dorms. CPTSD makes many of what we consider the “easy” parts of daily life undoable. Something as small as having a roommate can cause a person’s nervous system to stay in fight or flight, making it impossible to go about life with ease.
These, frankly simple, accommodations would help us navigate the stressful world of college without furthering the severity of our condition.
No accommodations for PTSD or CPTSD are offered despite both being recognized disabilities. I believe this is because many view trauma recovery through a lens of self-motivation. You should have to work to recover. As someone who had to struggle balancing coming into my adulthood, working multiple jobs, and dealing with a chronic mental illness, I don’t believe it’s given me any more character than I already had. If anything, it stripped me of being able to enjoy my experience.
Until very recently, I was never able to simply be irresponsible, and whatever age I was. I worked hard to gain the ability of irresponsibility, and even then, I still have to consciously take care of myself so my symptoms don’t backslide. I don’t bring this up for sympathy; it is what it is. I mention it because this experience isn’t unique. Due to the nature of CPTSD being a disorder that develops due to long-term traumatic exposure, many people who suffer from it are young.
Many of them aren’t lucky enough to go to college, and even if they are, they were sitting beside me in the same sinking boat.
Sophomore year of college, all of my free time was dedicated to therapy. I went twice a week, Tuesday-Thursday, usually before work. On Wednesdays at 11-12, during my lunch break, I attended a domestic violence (DV) support group. Every other Sunday, I would have a phone call with my advocate to check in and see how I was.
During this time, there was a huge disconnect from my peers, both in and out of group. The people going through a similar experience to mine were in their 30s, and the people I knew in college lived the typical 18-22-year-old life. The experience was isolating, and even though I had found a few free services for a while, it felt like it wasn’t helping.
Trauma infests the body the same way mold infests a home. It spreads in the dark, unnoticed crevices of a person’s being.
Each spore folding into itself and birthing anew. The average person doesn’t notice they have an infestation. Even when it begins to affect them. Typically starting with their mind, but eventually it begins to physically impair them. Like mold trauma slowly corrupts every surface it touches if gone unnoticed.
From 16 to 20, my doctor and I both thought I had some underlying autoimmune disorder. I was constantly in pain to the point she was convinced I had rheumatoid arthritis. The most pain I’ve been in my life was in the thick of my recovery. Nothing didn’t hurt. Every single one of my joints shot with pain. I’d walk around with lidocaine patches lining my back and knees. I had braces for both hands because every joint in them would ache. The worst was my eyes. It was my left eye, if I remember. I thought I was losing vision; at any given time, it would go blurry with pain that ran across my eye socket and into my temple.
we broke up. I entered this year with a plan: fix it. From a very young age, I’ve made it a point to work on my mental health so I wouldn’t become a statistic. Naturally, this made me hungry for resources to “fix” my problem. Hunting for these quickly proved impossible.
The lack of consideration for those with trauma-related disabilities became most apparent when I sat down with my university’s accommodation coordinator.
Every time I mentioned a symptom and how it could be accommodated, I was told there wasn’t a framework for them to provide said accommodation. I wasn’t asking for much. The main thing I needed was an extension on absences. Which wasn’t something they could give me. The closest I got was an extension on assignments because of my ADHD. This wasn’t going to make my life easier; I could do my work, but I needed more time at home than the average student. Deciding not to argue, I cut my losses and went back to my dorm.
These, frankly simple, accommodations would help us navigate the stressful world of college without furthering the severity of our condition.
No accommodations for PTSD or CPTSD are offered despite both being recognized disabilities. I believe this is because many view trauma recovery through a lens of self-motivation. You should have to work to recover. As someone who had to struggle balancing coming into my adulthood, working multiple jobs, and dealing with a chronic mental illness, I don’t believe it’s given me any more character than I already had. If anything, it stripped me of being able to enjoy my experience.
Accommodations for those with Complex Post=Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD} in academia would look like extensions of absences. An outline of triggering material in courses, or even a priority for single dorms. CPTSD makes many of what we consider the “easy” parts of daily life undoable. Something as small as having a roommate can cause a person’s nervous system to stay in fight or flight, making it impossible to go about life with ease.
Until very recently, I was never able to simply be irresponsible, and whatever
The unfortunate reality is that I did a lot of this on my own. I had to dig myself out of a hole when there should have been assistance. Especially for someone so young.
Oftentimes, I look back and wonder how I did it. I was working three jobs and was a mostly straight-A student on top of all of this. I believe it’s because at the time I had to and I was just doing what I could to make it. Now that I have space to breathe, I’ve chilled out. I skip class and rot on my couch when needed, I don’t work more than I want, and I spend more money than I should. I don’t need to be a powerhouse of an adult at 22. I’m at a point where I can just be.
The unfortunate reality is I should’ve never had to do it. College is no longer structured for the average working student, especially those with disabilities. As I write this and think on all that I struggled through. I’m reminded that extra days out of class isn’t asking for too much when you’re literally unable to go.
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