It gave me a sense of community and control (Picture: Tess Cope)
Feet pounding, chest heaving, lap after lap, I concentrated on controlling my breathing, my pace – and nothing else.
When I eventually crossed the finish line my body was so exhausted, I could just about get myself back to my car to drive home.
And it was a sweet relief.
I knew, for once, I wouldn’t be confronted with my recurring nightmare that my dad had been shot. A nightmare that had recently come true.
Growing up in Northern Ireland during the 80s, we lived through the worst of the Troubles. And one wintry night in the late 1980s, my dad had been ambushed on our front door. Shot 18 times, he died on his way to hospital.
Our whole family was devastated, and I was left floundering in grief and trauma.
It is only looking back now that I realise that I unconsciously activated a few coping mechanisms to get through that distressing time.
I protected myself emotionally by building a brick wall around my heart. No one was allowed to get too close.
I also started eating my feelings to give myself some comfort.
After 12 months, I came to the realisation that I needed to do something different. I saw an advert for a jogging group that met two evenings a week; my objective was to get my weight under control – nothing more.
I joined a new training squad that pushed me to the max (Picture: Tess Cope)
It was a shock for my body and I’d spent so much time separating myself, mixing in felt awkward at first. But my heart found it settling to be surrounded by other women.
It also proved a great distraction. Running curbed my appetite and focused my mind. I didn’t have to watch the internal movie that was on repeat, of the night my father was killed. I was so tired my body demanded quality sleep – something that had eluded me for years.
After a few weeks, the coach suggested it might be worth taking things more seriously. He could see some potential in my running and suggested I join the ‘proper running club’.
I was taken aback. He could recognise something in me that I didn’t in myself.
Within months, he put me into the ladies’ team for the area’s cross-country championships. While I hated running in the ankle-deep mud, I was elated when we returned with a team silver.
Afterwards, I joined a new training squad that pushed me to the max. I loved it. I had to dedicate all my focus into just keeping up. There was zero space for thinking about anything else – including my dad’s death.
This distraction was becoming a huge part of my identity (Picture: Tess Cope)
Running curbed my appetite and focussed my mind (Picture: Tess Cope)
Still though, every night as I arrived at our front door, the reminders of my father’s killing confronted me. Despite 18 months passing by, I still didn’t feel safe. I needed to take some kind of control. I left the country as soon as my mum would let me.
My priority upon landing in England was to find a running club. Back then, it was more important than finding a job.
Running had become a survival mechanism, and I thought it was helping me deal with my trauma. It gave me a sense of community and control, which helped me regain some sense of safety.
This distraction was becoming a huge part of my identity.
Every waking hour was consumed with planning each run meticulously, then recording every detail of training sessions. I’d train before work and again after work. Some people around me thought I was obsessed.
My dedication was rewarded with numerous county and regional medals. I was awarded my county colours and had a three-year winning streak at the area track championships.
When I moved to London some years later, I had the honour to be accepted into the ‘fold’ with Steve Ovett’s coach, Harry Wilson.
I realised that I’d need to do my own ‘development work’ (Picture: Tess Cope)
Tess is now a successful businesswoman (Picture: Tess Cope)
I had some amazing experiences. Running with a younger Paula Radcliffe. Being listed as one of the top three athletes in all middle-distance events in Northern Ireland. Qualifying for the Northern Ireland Training Squad for the Commonwealth Games.
Sadly, a foot injury brought my competitive days to a premature end, which coincided with a development in my career. I was promoted to heading up Learning and Development for the organisation I was working for, a job which involved taking on some coaching responsibility.
It was then I realised that I’d need to do my own ‘development work’ if I was to have any integrity in asking others to do the same.
I was lucky enough to have a supportive line manager who encouraged me to gradually start peeling back the layers, at a pace that was right for me.
The stark reality was confronting. I realised I still hadn’t faced the traumatic experience of losing my dad in the way we had.
Around 12 years ago, I was recommended to explore the systemic approach. It helps us get beyond symptoms and coping mechanisms, and ultimately identifies and works with the root cause. It helps you acknowledge the enormity of the original events, and process them.
We cannot change what happened but we can change our relationship with it (Picture: Tess Cope)
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Platform is the home of Metro.co.uk’s first-person and opinion pieces, devoted to giving a platform to underheard and underrepresented voices in the media.
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That was exactly what I needed to do.
Post-traumatic stress disorder will be a unique experience for everyone. What I have learned from my own relationship with trauma, is that we each need to find expert guides and, when we’re ready, work through the original event until such time as we can face the pain without drowning in it.
We cannot change what happened but we can change our relationship with it and how we hold the experience within ourselves.
And that’s when I realised how important running had been. Those 15 years of being consumed by the sport had helped create a space for me to come out the other side – and eventually created the capacity, inner strength and sense of safety to tackle the emotional block I had subconsciously put in place, leaving me ready to unpack the parts of me that had been locked down for so long.
Often, when we look back, there are helpful gifts that have been harvested from the experience. It is essential that we don’t leave them behind.
The biggest gifts that I gained include extraordinary levels of resilience and agility.
And while I would never have wished for this life experience, I’m not sure I would’ve left my home country and achieved what I have, otherwise.
If PTSD has touched you in some way, please know it’s never too late to tend to it. It took me more than a decade. I trust this gives you hope.
You can find out more about Tess here
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There was zero space for thinking about anything else – including my dad’s death.