Episode 1: Trapped in the past, diseased in quiet

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim’s first-person perspective.

To Readers

I have PTSD.

As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day.

I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it.

Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and going on with daily life.

If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma.

The beginning

It was October 2023, and I was on a flight bound for Toronto. It was not an especially remarkable business trip — I was traveling to cover Canada’s AI industry.

I still cannot clearly remember whether it was a dream or a half-asleep hallucination. Suddenly, that alley from a year earlier appeared before me — the site of the Itaewon disaster, where more than 150 people lost their lives.

It was so vivid and clear, as if a television screen had been placed right in front of my eyes. The same terror I had felt back then came rushing back as well, even though the cabin around me remained perfectly calm.

It was only later, after receiving treatment, that I learned this was a classic PTSD symptom known as a flashback — the reliving of a traumatic experience.

The same thing happened several more times after I returned to Korea. I often felt short of breath and began gagging more frequently. Sleepless nights became a regular part of my life.

The closer the first anniversary of the disaster came, the more unbearable it became. Eventually, I began seeing a psychiatrist. That was when I realized that the Itaewon of Oct. 29, 2022, had returned to me in the form of PTSD.

That was how my life with this illness — an illness that traps a person in the past — began.

The night of Oct. 29, 2022

That day, I was a reporter on the social affairs desk assigned to Itaewon. The area is a well-known spot in Korea to celebrate Halloween.

I had gone there to cover the night's celebrations, which had resumed for the first time in three years after being halted by the Covid-19 pandemic, and to write a feature story about the people taking part.

People in witty and cheerful Halloween costumes, streets that finally felt lively again after the pandemic — that was the story I had originally envisioned.

From the moment I arrived in Itaewon at around 10 p.m. and saw the crowds filling the streets, nothing seemed far from what I had expected. The main evening news that night was also mostly running light sketch-style reports showing the excitement and festivity.

No one could have imagined what would begin unfolding barely 20 minutes later. I didn't either.

I was standing near the Hamilton Hotel in front of Exit 1 of Itaewon Station, barely able to stay on my feet as the crowd grew more packed.

It was not until I realized something was wrong that people started to collapse right in front of me.

At 10:26 p.m., I pulled out my phone and dialed 119 to help a woman who appeared exhausted and was leaning against the entrance of a shop. The call would not go through.

Something felt wrong. How could my call to 119 not go through?

I called a number reporters use for emergencies instead. The person who answered hurriedly ended the call, saying, “This is absolutely not a situation where we can take calls right now.”

That was when I knew something was seriously wrong.

Please save me, I’m scared

By chance, I was standing right in front of the alley where the disaster occurred. Before long, I began hearing fire truck sirens. But the sound only added to the chaos, mixed with the loud music still blaring through the streets. For nearly 30 minutes, firefighters struggled to clear a path through the crowd, while people around us kept asking, “What’s happening?”

Firefighters started to lay people on the ground and began performing CPR. The sight of rescuers pressing with all their strength on the chests of people whose hearts had already stopped — that is the scene that still returns to me most often in flashbacks.

It didn’t feel real.

I had never seen anyone die before my eyes. Not this close, not in real time. And not just one person or 10.

Firefighters and paramedics carried out dozens of people in their arms.

I slapped my face to pull myself together. I don’t even remember how many times I did it.

My top priority at that moment was to report the situation to my newsroom and get coverage underway.

I made frantic phone calls and requested additional support. I sent photos to the company group chat and filed breaking news updates describing what was happening at the scene.

While I stood there panicking, unsure what to do, a survivor suddenly ran toward me with one shoe missing. The person said they had narrowly escaped from the alley.

“Please save me, I’m scared,” the survivor frantically repeated while I tried to calm them down in my arms.

I patted the survivor on the back over and over, saying, “It’s okay now. You’re okay now.”

After calming down slightly, the survivor said they could not find their friend they came with. I suggested going somewhere less crowded and waiting there for now. As we walked together, I suddenly felt an urge to burst into tears. But I felt like I couldn’t break down, so I bit my tongue and held it in.

Another survivor I encountered had eyes that were swollen red from crying. The survivor showed me a photo and asked me to find a missing friend. I promised I would contact the survivor if I found the friend and persuaded them to return to their accommodation first.

We walked together past the Noksapyeong, Itaewon and Hangangjin subway stations. Every nearby subway station was being passed. In the end, I walked the survivor all the way to an area where buses were still operating.

After returning to the scene alone, I searched around again and again. I could not find the face I was looking for. The friend the survivor had shown me and had been searching for was later confirmed dead.

That is where my memory of that night ends. I was only able to return home around dawn, completely unaware that the night had already damaged my brain forever.

This is what PTSD is like?

Immediately after the disaster, I did not experience any obvious symptoms. I received counseling support provided by my company, and also visited a psychiatrist.

But as the year passed, I stopped going to see the doctor. I thought there was no real reason to continue treatment.

In fact, for nearly a year, I was able to laugh, eat well and handle my work without major problems, as if the Itaewon disaster and that night had never happened at all.

Then, it suddenly came to me while on a flight for an overseas business trip, just before the first anniversary of the disaster.

The night of Oct. 29, 2022, had returned to me in the form of flashbacks. A flashback is when a traumatic experience from the past comes back with such intensity that it feels as if it is happening again in the present. Common examples would be veterans reliving the moment a fellow soldier died in combat, or instinctively dropping into a shooting stance as if they were back on the battlefield.

That was when the PTSD I didn’t know I had been carrying began.

As Oct. 29 approached, the flashbacks became more frequent. They surfaced suddenly while I was sleeping or even while walking down the street. People experience flashbacks differently, but mine usually left me frozen in place. The anxiety and tension became so severe that I repeatedly gagged and eventually vomited. At one point, I almost messaged my boss, saying, “I don’t think I can work right now.”

I became more irritable toward people around me, and my tone grew harsher. I even asked people not to mention the word Itaewon around me.

As the first anniversary of the event approached, I automatically scrolled past every article related to the disaster. Falling asleep became difficult, and even after I managed to sleep, I would wake up three or four hours later. I was constantly sleep-deprived.

As time passed and I learned more about my illness, I realized these were symptoms of PTSD.

The major symptoms of PTSD include intrusion, avoidance, negative changes in cognition and mood and hyperarousal, according to the National Center for Disaster and Trauma.

▶ Intrusion refers to traumatic memories repeatedly resurfacing in a vivid, sensory way, almost as if the event is happening again in the present. This can include recurring painful memories and nightmares related to the trauma. Dissociative reactions, such as flashbacks, where the event feels as if it is unfolding again before one’s eyes, as well as psychological distress and physical reactions, may also follow.

▶ Avoidance refers to intentionally steering clear of memories, thoughts and emotions connected to the trauma. People may try to avoid places, conversations or individuals that remind them of the experience.

▶ Negative changes in cognition and mood can involve excessively blaming oneself or others for the cause or consequences of the trauma. Some people experience memory loss, while others become trapped in beliefs that everything about them is wrong or that they will never get better, deepening feelings of isolation and alienation.

▶ Hyperarousal refers to states of heightened anger or aggression. People may become irritable over minor issues, overly sensitive to small stimuli or easily startled. Concentration becomes difficult, and insomnia can disrupt everyday functioning.

If these kinds of symptoms appear, PTSD should be considered as a possibility. Taking a self-assessment test offered by the National Center for Disaster and Trauma may also help. Of course, the best way to receive an accurate diagnosis is to visit a medical institution.

But it is much easier said than done to actually go to a hospital. That was true for me, too.

Even while suffering from PTSD symptoms, I convinced myself I had simply become sensitive because of work-related stress. I wanted to avoid seeing a doctor at all costs. It was only after hearing repeated encouragement from people around me that I finally returned for treatment. The thing I wanted to avoid until the very end was the fact that it was a “psychiatric” clinic.

The story continues to the second episode, "Episode 2: Suffocating in the silence of my own denial."

BY KIM NAM-YOUNG [[email protected]]