Episode 7: Running, giving, surviving: How I fought PTSD one day at a time

*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.

The one thing I held onto throughout my long struggle with PTSD was consistency.

Yes, my partner and friends were always there for me, and yes, I went to the hospital once or twice a month. But no one could be by my side all the time.

In other words, most of the time, I was alone.  

When I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe for no specific reason, I had to handle it on my own.

To deal with the symptoms that appeared out of nowhere, I had to consistently find coping strategies that worked for me.

So I tried everything I could think of. Meditation, futsal, running and donating to charity. I tried to move more, calm my mind and even tried to do something good.

But those efforts did not always work. And this is only my story. Even among people with the same condition, effective coping mechanisms differ from person to person.

I discussed every method I tried with my psychiatrist because I wanted to know whether I was heading in the right direction.

The art of failing meditation

There was one thing that never seemed to work for me: meditation.

In fact, meditation was the first thing my psychiatrist recommended, saying it could help relax a body stuck in a perpetual state of high alert.

The recommendation was so sincere that the doctor even wrote down instructions by hand and gave them to me on a note. Grateful for the effort, I tried several times.

But each attempt ended in failure.

The technique I was encouraged to practice was mindfulness meditation, which involves letting thoughts pass by and focusing on present sensations and emotions.

The problem was that I could never simply let thoughts go by.

Once I held onto one, it led to another, then another. And when I finally managed to clear my mind, I fell asleep instead. Rather than becoming quieter, my mind became even noisier. I even attended meditation classes, but in the end, it just was not for me.

That said, numerous studies suggest mindfulness meditation can be beneficial for people with PTSD.

Mindfulness-based therapy can significantly reduce avoidance, hyperarousal — a prolonged “fight-or-flight” response — and emotional numbing, all core symptoms of PTSD, according to an international study.

Rather than encouraging patients to avoid traumatic memories, it helps them accept the emotions and thoughts that arise, easing symptoms in the process.

Meditation also has the advantage of requiring no special equipment or dedicated space. It can be practiced whenever and wherever you choose.

"Mindfulness meditation trains people to allow symptoms to pass naturally rather than suppressing them," said Sim Min-young, a PTSD expert and former head of the National Center for Disaster and Trauma.

"However, people should be cautious because deep meditation can sometimes trigger dissociative symptoms such as flashbacks, where traumatic experiences are vividly relived," she added.

Keeping myself moving

Whenever a deep sense of emptiness or depression overwhelmed me while I was alone, I forced myself to put on my running shoes.

Maybe it was because I was too busy breathing. As I ran along the river and my breath grew short, the depression seemed to scatter away like clouds.

It was easier to fall asleep after a sweaty run.  

Eventually, exercise became part of my everyday life.

Since my second psychiatric evaluation in October 2023, I have maintained a fairly consistent exercise routine.

Futsal and running, in particular, remain staples of my routine today. I got into futsal through a company club almost by chance, and I started running to build the fitness needed to play better.

During hospital visits, I often told my doctor that I was exercising regularly, usually adding that I was trying not to overthink things.

I had never played futsal before. It was a sport I knew little about, but to my surprise, it suited me well.

I had spent far more time behind a desk than on a playing field, and athletic ability was hardly one of my strengths.

Looking back, my lack of athletic ability may actually have helped.

Because I was not good at it, I had to devote far more concentration than expected just to become comfortable with the ball.

My poor stamina left me breathless almost immediately, leaving little room for intrusive thoughts. It was only two or three hours a week, but during those hours I could forget that I had PTSD.

Running worked the same.

I only ran outdoors, usually along the river. The wind brushing past me while I ran felt as though it was washing away unnecessary thoughts.

Running alone mattered, too. I wanted to move at my own pace and run as far as I chose. Another advantage was that I could do it whenever I felt like it.

Once my breathing grew heavy, I was simply a “runner.” Not a “patient.”

I didn't start exercising to treat my PTSD. But somewhere along the way, it became part of my recovery.

The racing heart and rapid breathing people experience when threatened or startled occur because the sympathetic nervous system becomes highly activated, according to Sim. PTSD is, in many ways, a prolonged version of that state.

"Because the nervous system becomes highly unstable, it needs to be stabilized, and exercise can help," she said.

My psychiatrist also explained that exercise helps people regain a sense of control over their bodies while increasing neuroplasticity, the brain's ability to change structurally and functionally.

It also helps stabilize neurotransmitters involved in overall physical and mental well-being, including cortisol and dopamine.

What began as something I did without much thought turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Still, my psychiatrist emphasized that exercise alone does not completely block out thoughts.

While it may provide short-term relief, unresolved emotions can eventually return as physical symptoms or sudden emotional outbursts.

The doctor viewed my approach not as avoidance but as something closer to meditative exercise. Paying attention to the sensation of the wind, the feeling of my feet touching the ground and my increasingly rapid breathing was itself a form of training to return to the present moment.

Donating money to ease guilt

My efforts did not stop there.

On the fourth night of every month, before going to sleep, there is one thing I always do. I check whether there is at least 50,000 won ($30) in my bank account.

That is because I donate 50,000 won each month to the Child Development Account program, which supports children facing financial hardship. If I didn't have enough money in my account, I would borrow some just to make the donation.

After the Itaewon disaster, I donated quite a lot within my means.

It did not matter whether the donations were anonymous or made under my own name.

I donated to organizations related to the disaster, women's groups and animal welfare organizations. Whenever wars or major fires occurred, I clicked on online fundraisers without hesitation. Even a small donation felt like a way to help.

Taken together, it was not an insignificant amount of money — at least given my income.

Yet I never stopped.

The reason is simple: Donating was the fastest way for me to confirm that I was still contributing something positive to society.

The intense guilt I felt after the Itaewon disaster faded with time, but it never disappeared completely.

Whenever feelings of emptiness threatened to overwhelm me, those donations became an unexpected anchor.

To keep donating, I had to keep living my life and showing up for work.

In that sense, donating was not only a way of helping others. It was also a mechanism for holding myself together.

At first, I questioned whether it was healthy. Sometimes it felt as though I was spending money simply to reduce my guilt. I struggled to tell whether I genuinely wanted to help people or whether I was simply searching for internal validation. 

But what I do know is that without those donations, maintaining my daily life would have been far more difficult.

When I shared these concerns with my psychiatrist, the response was reassuring.

The doctor explained that there is actually strong neuroscientific evidence behind charitable giving.

"Altruistic behavior promotes the release of dopamine and oxytocin,” my doctor said. “These are chemicals that help people feel happy and safe. More importantly, acts of kindness help restore self-efficacy.”

"One of the core features of PTSD is the feeling that there was nothing you could do,” my doctor continued. "Donating helps people experience the fact that they can still have a positive impact on someone else's life. Finding ways to keep yourself grounded is an extremely healthy solution."

I fought hard, in my own way, to survive everyday life outside the hospital.

Even so, there was one thing I could not stop.

Like a natural disaster that no amount of human effort can prevent, something beyond my control happened.

It was the Jeju Air disaster, which struck just as I had begun to think, "Maybe I'm finally getting better."

The story continues to the eighth episode, "Episode 8: Minesweeping through triggers, healing through help and confrontation."

BY KIM NAM-YOUNG [[email protected]]