Episode 5: Small gestures that help and words to avoid for those living alongside PTSD

*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 getting 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.

What did the doctor say today?

Whenever I returned from a visit to my psychiatrist, my partner would always ask the same question. No matter how rambling my answer was, my partner listened until the very end.

As I spoke, my partner would often respond with words of empathy.

“I'm glad you told the doctor that,” my significant other would say, or “What did the doctor say about it?”

On days when I was too exhausted to keep talking, my partner would simply say, “You can tell me another time.”

For a long time, I believed I could live perfectly well on my own. As long as I could support myself financially, I thought I could get by without family, friends or a partner. That was before PTSD pulled me down.

After the illness entered my life, it was my psychiatrist who held me together inside the consultation room. Outside the clinic, it was the handful of people who knew about my illness — my partner and close friends — who kept me going.

I wasn't going through it alone. I was able to continue moving forward with the illness because of their care and love.

For people living with mental illness, the attitudes of those around them can be just as important as professional treatment.

Some people help you stay standing. Others make you stumble.

The loving naggers

“Did you take your medication?”

I didn’t need a phone alarm to tell me to take my medication because my partner would ask every night before going to bed.

As we lived far apart and my family did not know about my condition, my partner was the one who consistently took on the responsibility to check in on me.

From the Itaewon crowd crush that triggered my PTSD to my first psychiatric appointment and every moment since, my partner witnessed my entire journey more closely than anyone else.

My partner was also the first person — and most persistent — to insist that I seek professional help. Watching me sinking into guilt, anxiety and depression, they convinced me that I needed expert care more than anyone else could.

And as all humans do, I, too, had those days when I didn’t want to go see my doctor.

“Do I really have to go today?” I would sometimes tell my partner when I did not want to make the visit. But somehow, through a combination of persuasion and bargaining, my significant other always manages to get my shoes on.

“I'll buy you something delicious afterward,” or “Let's play a game later” — The gestures are simple yet effective, like a parent's promise of donkatsu (pork cutlet) to a child refusing to go to the dentist.

Still, I can say with certainty that two years of treatment would not have gone as smoothly if it weren't for the unwavering support.

A friend I call my “psychiatry comrade” has been just as supportive.

Having regularly gone to a psychiatrist long before I ever had, this friend scolded me relentlessly when I stopped treatment midway.

We would tell each other what happened during the appointments and even compare our reactions to medication. For example, although we take the same antidepressant, I experience almost no side effects, while my friend struggles with severe drowsiness.

We would openly ask one another questions, like “Wait, you don't get that?” to compare.

Sometimes, even a simple text message was enough to keep me going.

“Hey, I cried in the consultation room for the first time lol” a text would say. The instant reply: “I cried ages ago.” Even those short exchanges build solidarity.

There are others, too — friends with whom I can comfortably talk about therapy and mental health without hesitation.

Emotional allies

For PTSD treatment, emotional allies are invaluable.

Psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk argues in his book “The Body Keeps the Score" (2014) that relationships are one of the most important ways of caring for the brain emotionally.

He said that traumatized human beings recover through the relationships with families, loved ones, alcoholics anonymous groups, veterans' organizations, religious communities and professional therapists.

These relationships create both physical and emotional safety, according to van der Kolk. They help people move beyond shame and fear of judgment and gain the courage to tolerate, face, and process the realities around them.

Supporting someone with PTSD is not particularly complicated.

People need someone they can trust, someone with whom they can comfortably express their emotions and who is willing to listen to the painful messages their brains continue to generate, as emphasized by the psychiatrist.

Put simply, sometimes it is enough just to listen to someone who is still lost in the past. But for those unsure how to support a loved one with PTSD, education from an expert can always help.

Judith Lewis Herman, author of “Trauma and Recovery” (1992), argues that educating families about PTSD — under any circumstances — is beneficial.

“Family members not only gain a better understanding about how to support the survivor but also learn how to cope with their own vicarious traumatization,” she noted.

Words that deepen the wound

Looking back, I was fortunate to be surrounded by people who offered unwavering love and support.

But what should people avoid saying to someone living with PTSD?

The worst would be something along the lines of,

Maybe you're just weak.

This type of remark shifts responsibility for suffering onto personality or willpower. For someone already blaming themselves, it becomes yet another stigma.

PTSD is not an illness caused by weakness. It develops when the brain changes after experiencing a life-threatening event.

It is not something that can simply disappear because someone wants to forget or decides to become stronger.

Other damaging phrases to avoid are: “Shouldn't you be over it by now?” or “Everything will get better as time goes by.”

At first glance, these might sound comforting. But in reality, these remarks trivialize suffering and push people to suppress their emotions.

PTSD is not a condition that gradually fades with time. It is a disorder in which the past repeatedly intrudes into the present. Such comments are not merely social missteps. Misconceptions about mental illness can delay treatment.

The two most commonly cited reasons for hesitating to seek treatment are the belief that mental illness should be overcome independently and the belief that symptoms would improve if left alone, according to the Ministry of Health and Welfare's 2024 survey on public knowledge and attitudes toward mental health. Each was cited by 29.7 percent of respondents.

The idea that suffering reflects personal weakness — or that time alone will solve the problem — often discourages people from getting help.

Comments like “Why were you there in the first place?” that place responsibility on victims are also deeply unhelpful.

Such remarks can become a form of secondary victimization — the additional harm survivors suffer when others' words, actions or social attitudes inflict new wounds after the original trauma.

I survived because people asked questions, listened and waited.

But social support proved to be a different challenge altogether.

No matter how kind my partner and friends were, a single comment — “They died because they went there to have fun” — continued to relentlessly deepen my trauma.

The story continues to the sixth episode, "Episode 6: 'Time passed, so move on'? One psychiatrist says Korea still has a long way to go."

BY KIM NAM-YOUNG [[email protected]]