PTSD 11 - Levaquin with a side of PTSD

Last week was filled with Share Joys! I tried to bring Share Joys, a fundraiser from my high school, to Beecher. Whether or not this was a mistake is yet to be determined. Seriously, though, I think that it served its purpose and some families are able to afford a little bit of Christmas, so this year was not a mistake. I don't know if I will do it again. That is up to my principal. Anyway, I spent the past several weeks preparing for this festive exhibition of holiday joy. It was a literal headache. I didn't feel good but chalked it up to the stress of fundraising and the holiday season. As the actual Share Joys week approached, I felt worse. I assumed it was stress mixed with nerves and maybe the weather.

On Tuesday (day two of Share Joys) I woke up to the most intense pain I've had in a while on the left side of my face. I convinced myself that it was nothing and got ready anyway. It wasn't until later that I realized my left earn canal was swollen shut. Nice, right? Luckily, I still had some kick ass ear drops left over from a previous ear infection. I put some of those in and went to work. The day went by with the typical stress of a fundraiser. My head and my ear hurt, but I figured it was just another ear infection and I would keep up with the drops.

The rest of the week went by so fast. The kids had final exams and all I had to do was make sure they didn't cheat and then grade the exams. No biggie. By Friday (the last day of exams), I thought I was going to pass out at work. I google-chatted Gina and asked her to call my doctor for me. Awesomely, they were able to fit me in that afternoon. I finished the school day in my principal's office, trying to figure out where all of the Share Joys money should go. Actually, he and one of my co-workers who also worked on Share Joys figured out where the money should go while I sat in a chair and tried to breathe. I added my thoughts here and there, but mostly I just sat there blowing my nose and then trying to catch my breath.

After work I went home and was going to waste some time on facebook before my appointment. Meesh, my lab/bloodhound, rang the bell to go outside. Fondue, my Jack Russell, decided that would be the best possible time to pick a fight. I went to let Meesh out and Fondue bit at his ankles (this is a normal occurrence). Meesh decided this was the last time. He turned around, picked Fondue up by the head, slammed him on the ground, and trotted outside. Fondue wandered around dazed and then went outside, too. I let Fondue back in and noticed that I had a clear view of his eyebrow muscles. I called Brooke and Randy, they came upstairs and looked, I called the vet, and off we went. We dropped Fondue off for a few stitches and I left for my own appointment.

I was surprised that I was seen so quickly at the doctor's office. I thought I would be waiting for ages since my appointment was so last minute. To cut this part short (who really needs a play-by-play of a doctor visit?) I left with a prescription for Levaquin. I was told that I had bronchitis, an ear infection (duh), a sinus infection, and folliculitis (my hair follicles had an infection, too). My doctor gave me Levaquin because he said that it was really strong and should wipe out all of my infections. I left, dropped off the prescription, picked up Fondue (complete with The Cone of Shame), and went home.

Day one of Levaquin came complete with stomach pain. Side effect number one? Check! The afternoon of day one came with more side effects. When I woke up on Sunday, I had forehead acne like a freshly pubescent teenage boy! Yes, another side effect of Levaquin. No big deal, I thought, this is going to wipe out any sign of infection and I am going to be good to go when January 3rd hits. The stomach pains and the acne continued, but I only had to take Levaquin for seven days, so it would all pass in time.

Because it is break, I also had my yearly appointment. After some interesting conversation in the waiting room, and some pretty intriguing Lego talk with my doctor, I found out that I have a cyst that causes ovarian torsion. Basically this cyst weighs down my ovary and it twists like a flower that is too heavy for it's stem...that sounds way nicer than I think it actually is. So, that explained a little about the abdominal pain I'd been having.

This was really no big deal. I've had a cyst on the same ovary. I had it removed a couple of years ago. No big deal. Little did I know, the best side effect of Levaquin was yet to come. I started to notice that I was feeling a little anxious in the afternoons and the evenings. I thought maybe it was just holiday stuff or something. After an evening in tears I realized this was more than just holiday stuff. I was sinking into something very familiar and yucky. It was like my unfortunate period of darkness was oozing its way back in to my life. After a little digging I realized that yet another side effect of Levaquin was increased anxiety. What really seemed to be happening was Levaquin was nullifying my anti-depressant. Of course, right?

It's been an interesting trip so far. Please do not think of this post as some sort of complaint. The only bad thing that really happened was the Levaquin/anti-depressant issue. I am glad to say that I really do not think my UPD has returned. It seems to be a side effect of the Levaquin. For the record, I am stopping that medication as of TODAY. I have two days left, but there is no way in hell that I am taking another UPD reminder pill! This is also a reminder for me that God is so good. Everything could be so much worse, but it isn't. Even if it was, God is right there. So really, no biggie, right?

PTSD 10 - Giving Thanks and All of That

Thanksgiving is over! Okay, so that’s old news, but it’s still big for me. Thanksgiving is a really big bump in my road. It’s funny because I’m supposed to be all thankful and reverent, but I’m always too busy freaking out. I know, I’m supposed to be beyond the freaking out stage of PTSD, but I don’t know that the freaking out stage ever totally goes away. I seriously considered calling my therapist on Thanksgiving Day and leaving a voice mail to schedule an appointment. She would have been totally okay with that, I mean it’s just voice mail, right? It’s not like I would be calling as she sits down to dinner expecting her to pick up the phone. I didn’t call. I kept telling myself that I would get through it. I would get through Thanksgiving and the memories and the anxious feelings. It would be over and I would be back to my normal self. Want to know the crazy part? It sort of worked out that way. Once Thanksgiving was over, I started to feel a little better; like I had accomplished something by existing through a holiday. It’s all about the small victories, I guess.

It has been about a year and two months since the inception of my Unfortunate Period of Darkness. This past week was spirit week at Beecher High School. At work other teachers mentioned stuff about last year’s spirit events and I was left wondering why I didn’t remember that. At one point I said, “Geeze, I don’t remember doing any of that.” A co-worker said, “Yeah, you were” [awkward pause] “sick last year.” I said, “Oh yeah! Duh! My Unfortunate Period of Darkness!” She gave me a sympathetic look and changed the subject. Last year during this time I was pretty much at home in bed or suction cupped to Gina’s ass. PTSD had such a strong grip on me just a year ago. Sometimes it seems like that time was ages ago and sometimes it feels like it was all last week. I don’t really like the fact that PTSD has etched a permanent mark in my life, but I don’t really hate it either. Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather have the flu, ya know, the really bad kind where you have to sit on the toilet and have a bucket in your lap? I’d rather have that kind of flu for 30 consecutive days than deal with PTSD for just one day. Ya know what though? I’m glad I know that. I’m glad I know what it all feels like. I’m glad I know.

PTSD 9 - I am not a victim

Originally, I started writing and the memories are just what came out. It felt so good to have the emotion out and over with that I tried it again. The third time I wrote because I was feeling scared and alone. Halfway through writing I started to feel a little more at peace. Writing seems to be pretty good therapy for me. Posting what I write has been extremely helpful, too. Instead of tucking those memories into a file folder on my computer, I am able to publish them. In a way, I am able to say, Hey! This is my dirty laundry and I really don't care if you see it. I am able to own my history even if it does sort of suck.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a strange entity. The disorder takes an event that I was too traumatized to really experience the first time and replays it over and over and over again. In a way, this is a blessing. I am able to re-experience the trauma until I am able to handle it in an effective way. On the other hand, my brain spends an awful lot of time in what Anne Shirley would call, "the depths of despair." While in the deepest and scariest parts of PTSD, I am so afraid because my body is literally reliving the traumatic experience. What I lovingly refer to as my Unfortunate Period of Darkness was really a time of extremely intense emotion. During this period my body was in flight mode 24 hours a day. Sleeping wasn't even a reprieve. I would wake up in a breathless panic several times a night. It was PTSD's way of reminding me that it was still there and would not be leaving anytime soon.

Going from that intense emotion to a sedated sense of peace was like living in a euphoric cocoon. When my brain and my body were able to work through that trauma again, I was able to relax. I could sleep. I could eat. Everything looked, smelled, and seemed enchanted by this new found simplicity. For lack of a better analogy, I equate the feeling to being on a peaceful high after a bad trip. Unfortunately, flying high can't last forever.

What follows this surreal emotional roller coaster is a sort of status quo. This may sound like a pretty good deal following the previous emotional encounters. Unfortunately, this status quo often leaves me feeling bitter. Please don't misunderstand. I do not enjoy reliving the trauma. And the high is fabulous, but tainted by the knowledge that it will never last. I think the bitterness stems from a desire to experience intense emotion without the repercussions.

Something else that makes me feel bitter is that being on this roller coaster comes with labels. I fear that publicizing my walk through this crap makes me look the victim. I know that what I went through sucked, but I'm not sorry that I had those experiences. I do have days when I wish I had a mom or dad that I could go to. My parents may not be there for me, but they sure as hell made sure I knew how to be there for myself. The way they went about it was definitely twisted, but I know how to handle myself and for that I thank them.

Earlier this evening I was skimming through my notes. I wanted to do a little self-assessment and check my progress with PTSD. When I was reading through my memory notes, I realized that someone could easily mistake my words as acceptance of the victim title. I am not a victim. Those experiences are trials I lived through. I am not a victim of my parents and their delusional decisions. I look back and realize that for a kid who was learning the hard way, I kicked ass. I will probably continue to write about my memories. When I do, I will be writing to let go of the trauma and embrace the victory.

I am so thankful to be surrounded by such wonderful people. There are people who have stuck with me since I was in high school and college. And my SnB gals are absolutely amazing. I am surrounded by fantastic people. Thank you all for being so supportive and encouraging. You guys have all been proof that good people do exist and I thank God for each of you and the lessons I've learned from you.

PTSD 8 - Two-by-Fours

My therapist calls these times two-by-four lessons. We talk about how life is full of lessons and that sometimes they feel like two-by-fours. I do not know what I am supposed to learn this time, but it definitely feels like a two-by-four lesson in the making. It will probably end up being the size of a ruler when all things are said and done and I look back on this time.

When I talked to Gina, she suggested that this may be a transition time issue. I mean, normally I am in front of, at the very least, 20 students all day and now I am in front of five dogs. This makes sense to me. Of course life is going to be a little different when I am only in front of five dogs. Unfortunately, when Fondue is being a butt head, threatening him with a referral does absolutely nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I do leave the house. I have made several wonderful friends at Riverside Health and Fitness Center. I have met Adolf, an 81-year-old gentleman from Munich, Germany. He used to disarm bombs during the war. He told me that I am beautiful and wants to know why I am not married, so of course I think he is adorable. I have also met Sharron, Jim, and Judy (all over 65 years of age). They are all fantastic people. We chatted about teaching, dogs, doctors, and “the good old days.” I mostly listened about “the good old days.” Strangely, I am still feeling very lonely. I think I could spend every day with several different people and still feel lonely. There is just something about going from a classroom of people all day to just a few people scattered throughout the day that makes me feel a little lost.

Okay, so all of that doesn’t sound so bad, right? I mean, let’s be serious, I do not have to grade papers, I do not have to deal with teenage attitude, I do not have to deal with my principal and his crazy mood swings. These are all good things, aren’t they? Instead, I can watch TV all day, swim at RHFC, go to Barnes and Noble any time I want (as long as they’re open, of course), eat when I’m hungry instead of when the bell rings, I can mow the lawn on the one day of the week that isn’t filled with rain, I can read all day. So what’s my problem? Isn’t this what everyone always wants? I think I want these things too, but I like them to be scattered throughout my busy days and not all in a row. I know I shouldn’t be picky about things like this. I should rejoice in the fact that I have this opportunity. I just wish I could figure out what this opportunity is for.

So, where’s the two-by-four lesson in all of this? Well, all of this time leaves me wide open for random thought. By random thought I mean, I now have ample time to freak myself out. This is not good. I would like to think that I am not the only one who does this. At the same time I would not like to think that others deal with this issue…conundrum. I recently read a book by Donald Miller (author of “Blue Like Jazz”) entitled “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.” It is about creating a good story with your life. This book was fantastic for me to read for the first couple days of summer break. I was pumped. I was going to create an awesome story! Now that the book is over, I am not so sure what to do. Once again, I was living vicariously through the author’s journey…sigh. All of this together is forming what seems to be a frighteningly familiar two-by-four. I just hope that I can figure out this lesson before I crash into it face first.

Constant reminder: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Psalm 119:105

PTSD 7 - The Bumps in the Road Called Triggers

Trigger: "The amygdala in the emotional center sees and hears everything that occurs to us instantaneously and is the trigger point for the fight or flight response" (Goleman).

Fight or Flight: "The body’s response to perceived threat or danger. During this reaction, certain hormones like adrenalin and cortisol are released, speeding the heart rate, slowing digestion, shunting blood flow to major muscle groups, and changing various other autonomic nervous functions, giving the body a burst of energy and strength" (Scott).

Have you ever had a moment when everything seems wonderful? The air smells good, you feel good, not everything is going your way, but you're okay with it....do you know it? Have you felt it? I can think of a time last week. Earlier in the week I was enjoying the smell in the air (thistle I think). The temperature was great. Not everything was perfect, but I was feeling pretty comfortable in my own skin. It was such a nice place to be.

At the end of last week a student at Beecher Junior High School committed suicide. Before and during my Unfortunate Period of Darkness my body would have physically jolted and my mind would have gone blank when given this information. I would have temporarily shut down...maybe for just a few seconds, but it would have happened. Strangely, I did not get the jolt or the blank numbness. As a result, I did not know how to respond. I tried to wrap my mind around the situation in time for my freshmen classes. We briefly talked about suicide and signs and I answered questions (the questions that had answers anyway). Still, I was not in a panic and I did not feel numb. I took this as a sign of great improvement. I mean, if I am not responding to something that normally instills great amounts of fear in me, then I must be getting a lot better.....right?

Not so much. The student's suicide was definitely a trigger for me. The only difference between this time and previous encounters with that horrible act is that my body did not immediately go into fight or flight mode. I made it through Friday. I made it through the majority of Saturday. By Saturday night I was starting to experience the repercussions of various triggers. By Sunday I did not notice the thistle. I did not feel well. I most definitely did not feel comfortable in my own skin.

The true irony of the situation is that I do not have an appointment with my therapist this week. At my last appointment we both decided that I was doing well enough to try every other week. I am frustrated by the situation, but find it slightly comical as well. OF COURSE I don't have an appointment this week.

At this point I am angry, scared, frustrated, annoyed, and slightly anxious. My goal is to get back to where I was earlier last week: peaceful, thankful, reflective, calm, and hopeful. I suppose this bump in the road does make sense. I need these times so I can learn how to deal with them. Unfortunately, knowing that the times are needed and useful does not make them any easier.