A Bone of Contention

Rambunctious Youth
My body and I have been fighting for years. My weight hovered around 105 pounds from my freshman year in high school through my freshman year in college. The Freshman Fifteen hit me hard when I was a sophomore. We shall call it the Sophomore Several. Rather than do something about my poor eating habits, I just kept eating. It was awesome, as long as I didn't look in the mirror and never went shopping for clothes. Sophomore year through senior year was a roller coaster going as low as 110 and as high as 145. The scale and my pants size were ever-changing *sigh.*






This is me when I was 17. I was probably somewhere between 100-105 pounds.














Enter Adulthood
Life during the school year is pretty much planned out for me. My day is dictated by a series of bells that tell me what I will be doing for the next hour, when I can go to the bathroom, and when I'm allowed to eat. For someone who is not very good at usefully managing time, this seemed like a good thing. So where's the problem? Well, I still haven't learned to take ownership of my eating habits. Instead of listening to my body and learning when I am/am not hungry, I am eating when I realize I'm not doing anything else. That's when I'm allowed to eat at work, so it just makes sense that if I have free time at home, I should eat.







This is me when I was in my early twenties. This was probably my 160-168 period.









A Short-lived Attempt
A few short years ago, I attempted to gain some control of my eating habits. I went from 168 pounds to about 145 pounds. I was making better choices and exercising on a regular basis. I wasn't exactly at my ideal weight, but I was definitely on the right track. I felt really good and was actively working toward a healthier me.








I was probably around 140-145 here.











The Unfortunate Period of Darkness
In the fall of 2008, I entered a deep depression. It was the result of many things. See this post and this post for more information. During this period of darkness, I dropped down to about 130 pounds. That is about my ideal weight. Unfortunately, I was too sad and miserable to enjoy it. I had absolutely no desire to eat. It was an awful time. When I started to feel better, I started to get my appetite back. I was so focused on feeling better that I completely ignored my eating habits. As a result, I lapsed back into the I'm-not-busy-so-I-should-be-eating state of mind.










This is during the Unfortunate Period of Darkness. I was probably around 130.








Making a Change
It is time to take my life and my body back. I am tired of living the life of an overweight woman. I know that we are supposed to be proud of our bodies and feel good about who we are. I know that people blame the media for distorting body image. Here's the thing, I can't rationalize being overweight. It's just not healthy. I am going to take my body back and live a healthy life that I can actually enjoy.









And...a good comparison. Then and now. I prefer the Then.












Why am I Telling You?
I know I'm not the only one who deals with weight issues. My plan is to eat right and exercise. I am not going to use diet pills or weight loss organizations. I am going to do this the old school way. There is so much weight loss propaganda on TV and the Internet. I want to put something out there that is real.

The Part I Can't Believe I'm Doing
CW: 175
Height: 5'6"
BMI:28.2

Personality Doppelganger

After watching an episode of MASH last night, Gina asked which dog would be which MASH character if we were to rename the dogs (which we definitely are not doing). Here is what we came up with...

The first, and most obvious, comparison is between Fondue and Hawkeye Pierce. Hawkeye is a show-off and a womanizer. He is surly and doesn't mind making himself look good at the expense of others. Fondue would definitely be Hawkeye.

Meshach would have to be Radar O'Reilly. The most obvious reason is that Radar was able to identify when choppers were coming, even when no one else heard anything. Meesh seems to have an uncanny knack for knowing when a squirrel is in the yard, even when everyone else
is oblivious.

Denim was another obvious choice. He would have to be BJ Honeycutt. He is fun, easy going, good friends with Hawkeye, kind to Radar, and a little sneaky from time to time.

He's little, but he's in charge. He loves all of his men and knows how to handle any situation. He is good at ignoring the antics of the troublemakers but coming down on them if necessary. Tucker is clearly, Sherman T. Potter.

Bed, Bark, Boredom

I will have been on summer break for a week the day after tomorrow. Everyone asks the same old question, "Are you enjoying your summer break?" I answer "Yes! Of course!" I'm pretty sure the how-are-you-oh-I'm-fine-how-are-you rule applies to the summer break question. Nobody wants to hear that you are not really enjoying your summer break. I know that I'm supposed to skip from the classroom with the same vigor as my students, but I just don't. It's not that I want to be trapped in a hot, smelly classroom all summer, it's just that I need some sort of distraction. So far, I have slept in, listened to Fondue bark, and then sit in complete and total boredom.

Bed

Let's address issue number one. I would probably be enjoying my summer more if I showed some initiative. I could get up at a decent time and have a shower and breakfast. The problem here is that sleeping in during the school year is impossible and I really do enjoy waking up on my own without the need to jump straight into the shower followed by a quick breakfast in my car.

Bark

Issue number two. Fondue. Please see exhibit A:

Exhibit A

He looks sweet and snuggly. He looks like he would just sit around all day. This is a lie. It is a front. This is a ploy. Do not be fooled. Please see Exhibit B for his true nature.

Exhibit B

Exhibit B shows the true Fondue. I know this isn't the best picture. It is circumstantial evidence at best. I am aware of this. You are just going to have to take my word on this one. He barks his head off (hardly breathing) while Meesh, Exhibit C, tries his darndest to ignore him

Exhibit C

Again, circumstantial. In truth, he usually has his eyes squeezed shut, feigning bark-induced migraine. He is a very sweet boy. Every now and again he has enough, though. When Meesh finally has enough it results in Exhibit D.

Exhibit D

This happened during Christmas break of 2010. Meesh finally had enough and scalped Fondue. A few stitches, the Cone of Shame, and $120 later and Fondue still has not learned his lesson. This vicious cycle has become a constant in my life.

Boredom

And finally, issue number three. I AM SO FREAKING BORED. Don't worry. It's a curable condition. I can do so many things. I could visit with my 13-year-old best friends, play hopscotch, draw beautiful chalk creations on my driveway, jump on a trampoline, work on curriculum planning, walk my crazy dogs, write blog posts, play solitaire, go to Barnes and Noble, chat with friends, work in my garden, and so much more. But...are you ready for this? It's a pretty major road block. I just can't seem to convince myself to actually get up and do any of those things.

So there it is. That's my summer break. I am thankful that I get a summer vacation. This one just isn't anything to write home about. At least not yet.

The Happiness Theory

So, I have this theory. What if I make it my goal to make each day better than the day before? Before you roll your eyes or click off of this page, let me assure you that I am so far from an eternal optimist. In fact, I tend to be on the cynical side. This is going to sound ridiculously trite, but I watched this movie last night called Happythankyoumoreplease.

It is about a fabulous group of people. I was so inspired. Each character was my favorite character. I think what I loved about it the most is that it is simply a happy story. This brings me to my happiness theory. My theory is that it is possible to simply have a happy story. Why not? I know - I know...bad things happen. I get that. What if we take those bad things and decide to turn them into an opportunity to make tomorrow better? I think the best line from this move was:

"Go get yourself loved."





I know that it's hard, but what if we all decided to let ourselves be loved. I'm always so focused on what other people think of me or how I'm presenting myself. What if a simple, happy story is just about loving and being loved? Can it be that simple? I am willing to find out.

A Morning Call

My first memory of my Granny Joan is of her sizing me up in her living room. She was lying on her couch in a house dress and I was standing in the middle of the room, my dad perched on a recliner but not reclining in the least. Granny Joan’s eyes were slits and her nose was sneered like she just bit into the sourest Granny Smith apple ever plucked from the branch. I’ll admit I wasn’t much to look at. I had long knotted hair and hand-me-down clothes that didn’t fit the way store bought clothes usually did. I had that outdoor smell. The one children get when they’ve been sweating in the sun all day and then drip dried as the air cooled in the evening. I was relieved when she turned her glare to my dad. He rarely sat down, it was custom on the Kimmel side of the family to stand. It was nothing personal. It didn’t mean that we weren’t going to stay for a few hours and visit. Kimmels were just like that. It was odd seeing him sit, his back straight as a preacher. He seemed different, smaller somehow. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was a test. My dad needed someone to watch me in the evenings and she was the last resort. This visit was scheduled for her to determine if she had time to watch me or if she didn’t. Had I known what I was in for, I probably would have found some way to convince my dad that I was old enough to take care of myself.

Granny Joan was from the strictly Irish side of the family. There was a very solid sense of pride in her. I’m not sure if it was her pride or if it was pure meanness that made her the way she was. It was a rare occurrence for her to give a kind word. It was even rarer for any kindness not to be followed by downright nastiness. I sometimes think that she agreed to watch me only to see me fail at the tasks she would give me. I was horrible at making instant coffee; it was never right. I couldn’t do laundry the way it was meant to be done. I made stupid mistakes. She had some sort of disorder that made her bleed. One of my tasks was to walk behind her if she got up to use the bathroom or go in the kitchen and clean up the trail of blood she left behind. It’s hard to mess up something like that. It was the one job I was good at, so while I was repulsed by it, I relished in the fact that I wasn’t screwing up. I distinctly remember her saying that all of her grandchildren were just fine, except for me. She never really explained why. I think it was just the nastiest comment should could think of at the time.

Granny Joan recently came up in conversation in a morning phone call from my dad. I’m not sure how we wound up on her; she just sort of popped up. My dad told me about when his dad left. He was the oldest and got the brunt of his mama’s meanness. He guessed it was because he reminded her of his dad. She lit into him like nothing else until one day when he told her that if she whooped on him again, he would whoop her right back. He was never good enough for her and he said he reckoned that’s why I wasn’t good enough either. When we hung up, I had a new appreciation for my dad. I understood why he looked so small when we went for that first visit. You can only be beaten down and ripped apart so many times until you are just a shred of who you should be. I was also able to understand where some of his anger and nastiness came from and I found myself wishing that he would have shared that part of his life with me a long time ago.

SNOW!

Snow days are a beautiful thing. I remember being in elementary school and rejoicing when the announcer on the radio listed my school. Snow days mean so much more as a teacher than they did as a student. I appreciate them on an entirely new level. Just last week I was able to celebrate two whole snow days! We had an estimated 20 inches of snow. The best part of being off was playing with my dogs in the snow. They had a blast.

Denim probably enjoyed the snow the most. He is a husky/shepherd. Snow is his favorite part of the entire year.

Proof that Den is in love with the snow. He just dives right in.

When he is tired, he burrows in and relaxes. I think he likes to pretend he is in Alaska.

Meesh is also a pretty big fan of the snow. He likes to dive right in. He has a bit of a Santa beard going on here.

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.

PTSD 6 - Who the Heck am I?

Well, life has been interesting that's for sure. I have had some significantly large steps forward and then a few unfortunate tumbles back. Fortunately, I still have God, Gina, and some really great friends to walk me through the rough patches. I have found that one of the hardest parts of dealing with PTSD, and the consequential side-effects, is trying to figure out who to be instead of who I have been for the past 20 years of my life. This is incredibly difficult. Maybe it should be easy or fun but right now it just isn't. There are times when I am so focused on trying to determine my PTSD-free identity that I lose focus on being PTSD free. I get depressed or overwhelmed by the thoughts of not really knowing who or what I should be. I feel like my high school students must feel: always trying out new identities to see which one could fit. Unfortunately, I have never been much of a shopper. My dad taught me to know what I want, go inside to find it, and GET OUT. He's not much for large crowds. I have been a quick in-and-out shopper for as long as I can remember. Shopping around for a new identity is not my idea of a good time. I feel like I'm stuck in a mall (much like Northfield) that has very limited shop choices and even then it's a small-town mall and the selection in each shop sucks. I have been told that our identities are ever-evolving. This is great news, but what am I evolving from? I get that people change throughout their lifetime, but is everyone so conscious of the transition?

Okay, so when I'm not whining about my life I've been thinking about who I think I am and who I seem to be at this point. Aren't you so lucky that I'm including you in on this personal journey of self-discovery.

Who I thought I was and Who I seem to be

Quiet Vocal when necessary and sometimes more than that
Fairly transparent animated and thus easy to read
Good at doodling but not drawing Good at doodling and not all that interested in drawing
A reader Definitely a reader and quite possibly a writer
Not good enough for certain people Good enough for God
Obsessed with Dogs Lover of animals in general and not obsessed with dogs
Not a talented singer This one's actually true
Really annoying to most people probably annoying to some but if they don't like me they don't need to be around me
Not a very nice person. Blunt to the point of being rude Definitely blunt but not always rude
Laughs too much laughs a lot and that's okay as long as it isn't hiding other emotions
An average teacher a good teacher when I am focused and motivated
Not worth the time of others just as worthy as anyone else
Lover of all things purple I actually like purple but I also like pink, green, blue, and more
Lover of giraffes I do like giraffes but I also like horses, panda bears, lions, and more

Okay...so that's a start in determining the who-I-was-and-who-I-seem-t

o-be issue. Some of it (i.e. favorite color and favorite animal) is a little on the basic side, but at least it's a start. I have been trying to determine some things I should try with the potentially new, but still essentially the same, me. Some possibilities are:

- working with horses somewhere (volunteering)
- writing more often
- being outside more
- getting more exercise but not necessarily working out at a fitness center - just moving more
- not feeling like I have to be obsessed with one particular thing to have an identity
- not feeling like I need to be some sort of social chameleon to belong with different groups of people
- continuing to come up with new things to try

This is probably one of the lesser exciting posts about PTSD (not that the others are thrilling) but this is real. This is part of healing from PTSD. This is what I'm dealing with. It may seem trivial or not worth stressing over but it's where I'm at right now.

PTSD 5 - What a Bumpy Road

Gina is forever encouraging me to write during my bad times. I usually balk at the idea for several reasons. Who wants to read about my inner turmoil? What if writing about the junk that goes on in my head makes me worse? Someone could read this and realize that I should be committed. The list goes on. I’ll try to spare you each tiny detail of my busy brain’s inner workings.

I think my most recent bout with this un-nameable phenomenon began last Friday. I was looking forward to a fun filled weekend with my eleven-year-old best friends. Gina and I were to have eleven-year-old guests for the weekend as their parents were on a ski trip. I was a little nervous about the weekend because having PTSD makes me nervous about most things. This weekend also reminded me of the progress, or lack thereof, that I’ve made thus far. When the plans were made for the girls to stay with us I remember thinking, ‘Oh that’s weeks away. Surely I’ll be better by then.’ When Friday came and I was not 100% healed I did what I do best. I panicked. I was preparing a room for them and after realizing that I wasn’t completely better by my personal deadline I sat down and cried.

This PTSD episode began a little over three months ago. I know that math isn’t my strength, but if I am correct, by the end of February this crap has consumed about one-fourth of my year. I know I have made some significant steps since the beginning, but PTSD has so consumed my life. It is difficult for me to remember what my life was like just five months ago. I tried to remember this morning, but wound up feeling even worse about where I am now. I know that I spend a lot more time worrying. I also spend a lot more time suction-cupped to Gina’s behind (God bless her for her patience with me). I don’t allow myself to enjoy the little things. For some reason I have a hard time allowing myself to appreciate things that used to bring me so much joy. I used to love taking a nap in the middle of the day. I used to love going to Barnes and Noble just for the smell. I used to love daydreaming about adventures I might have in the future. Now I spend so much time being afraid of little things (that are magnified in my mind) that I don’t enjoy all that life offers. I used to daydream about grand adventures that involved traveling to other countries and experiencing all that God has provided. Now I worry that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I would panic and not have my psychiatrist or my therapist five minutes away.

I have spent so much of my life daydreaming. When I was younger and times at home would get really bad, I would daydream my way out of that situation. I would be years older and in college or I would be on some sort of adventure with my reliable dog by my side. I would daydream myself into other families with comfort and safety. Most of my daydreams involved having parents (mainly a mother) that would sit down with me and tell me everything would be okay. Obviously, my daydreams got me through the hard times. Right now daydreaming is next to impossible. If I do manage to squeeze in a daydream my PTSD shoots it down; sometimes before I can even finish the thought. I suppose that is one of the hardest parts about having PTSD. My daydreams were my hopes. PTSD shoots down my hopes and I am left with my deflated dreams piling up around my Chuck Taylors.

One of my cheerleaders posts the most amazing quotes as her facebook status. It’s incredible how many people they touch. Her current status is a quote by Marcel Pagnol, “The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be.” Oh do I see so much truth in that. For my birthday, Gina gave me a necklace that says “never never never give up.” It is a quote from Winston Churchill. I think that is a pretty decent philosophy at this point. That phrase came up in church yesterday as well. We were singing You Are My All in All written by Dennis Jernigan. One verse is,

“You are my strength when I am weak
You are the treasure that I seek
You are my all in all
Seeking You as a precious jewel
Lord, to give up I'd be a fool
You are my all in all”

I suppose what I can take from this is to keep pushing. When my days are filled with fears I can keep trying to get through to comfort and peace. When my days are full of tears I can remember that the Lord will fill my cup and I will move on. When daydreams just won’t come or PTSD shoots them down I will hold tight to God’s word that He will get me through. I will hold on to the thread of hope that one day I will be daydreaming again. For right now I plan to “never never never give up.”

PTSD 4 - The Mesmerizer

I am continuing on the road to self-discovery. I have continued to see Jon Dodds for EMDR. I did have one cognitive therapy session with him as well. On a quick side note, if you are looking for a good Christian counselor, I highly recommend Jon. He is caring and intuitive. I very much enjoyed the opportunity to just talk with him. With EMDR there is very little talk. We pause long enough for me to share the filmstrip that is gliding through my mind and then we move on. EMDR has been a very remarkable journey through my past. I have uncovered events that I am sure were diligently buried several years ago. I am confident that EMDR is helping my mind to unwind all of the tangled details of my history.

I have also been discussing my progress with my other therapist, Cheryl Wolf. I shared with Cheryl that I am still struggling with many of the fears and concerns that originally launched me into this world of therapy and self-discovery. Cheryl’s response was unexpected. She asked me if I still wanted to kick butt. I laughed, somewhat bitterly, at this question. Of course I still wanted to kick butt; I just wasn’t sure how possible this butt kicking would be. Cheryl’s suggestion made my breath catch and my heart skip. She wanted to try hypnotherapy. She wanted to hypnotize me. My first internal response was, ‘thank you for the suggestion, but let’s just stick with what we’ve got here.’ Instead, I let Cheryl explain the significance of hypnotherapy in the recovery process. I listened and made some mental notes. When she finished her explanation I asked her a few questions. ‘Have you ever been hypnotized? Has anything bad ever happened when you’ve hypnotized someone? Does it work for everyone?” Cheryl patiently answered each of my questions. She assured me that she has been hypnotized many times. Nothing bad has ever happened when she’s used hypnotherapy. She also explained that hypnotherapy is very effective, but everyone is different. I made an appointment for a hypnotherapy session and left thinking that I still had the option to call and cancel. I spent a few hours throughout the weekend doing research. I asked questions of others that practice or have had hypnotherapy. I concluded that there was no harm in trying.

The night before my hypnotherapy session I spent about an hour practicing yoga. I am not a devoted yogi, but I do enjoy a good child’s pose and the occasional warrior pose. I think spending time with my body the night before my session helped enormously. The day of my hypnotherapy was filled with a mixture of anxious excitement and nervousness. I tend to get my hopes up on new forms of therapy. Because part of my PTSD is having a case of the what-ifs, I spent the day what-ifing like a pro. The time for my appointment was drawing near and I found myself reading a book, Eat Pray Love by Liz Gilbert, that I’ve been working through. The chapters I read dealt greatly with meditation and the subconscious. How appropriate. I sat in the waiting room reading my book and trying to mentally quiet my body. Sooner than expected, Cheryl came out and we went back to her office. Cheryl had me lie on the couch (contrary to popular belief, clients do not always lie on the couch). The process was similar to guided imagery. Cheryl gently guided me in relaxing my body and allowing my subconscious to come to the forefront. At this point I will assure you that I was awake and aware the entire time. My eyes were closed and my body was relaxed, but I knew where I was and was cognizant of what I was saying and doing. With Cheryl as my guide, I walked through some of the more traumatic elements of my past. These events did not originally stand out to me as being extremely traumatic. I had seen and experienced worse, but these events had clearly affected the way I have thought and viewed myself for several years. When the hypnotherapy session ended and I was eased back to a more conscious awareness, I forced my heavy eyelids to open and sat up. It was not until this point that I realized how being hypnotized really felt. Throughout the session I thought, ‘This doesn’t feel much different from guided imagery.’ After sitting up I realized that I had been in a much deeper state of relaxation than I had originally thought.

So, the answer to the question that almost everyone asks: Did it work? Well, I don’t know yet. I have felt relaxed, but I am still nervous and watchful. I hope and pray that this will be a big step on my journey of self-discovery. More than that, I pray that this will be a key in my healing process.

PTSD 3 - A Journey of Self-Discovery

New Years Eve seems like the appropriate time to write about my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) journey. I have been thinking about the whole concept of New Year resolutions. I have seen several posts on Facebook about how 2010 is THE year for this or for that. I am deciding that 2010 is going to be my year of healing. This is turning into a bigger commitment than I would originally have thought.

As mentioned in a previous note, I have started a process called Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR). I have been to four sessions with Jon Dodds (http://www.jondoddscounseling.com). In my first session I told him about the main traumatic event in my life; or at least what seemed to be the most traumatic event in my life. Jon explained to me what the EMDR process is and we made plans to meet again the next week. During my second session, we started to work on the protocol of EMDR. I had to identify a feeling about myself that I wanted to change (i.e. I am afraid, I am not safe). I also had to identify a target image: an image that sort of represents my traumatic event and the statement about me. After having this image in mind Jon started the eye movements. Jon sits off to the side and moves two fingers back and forth in front of me at varying rates of speed. I know that this sounds strange or like I am being hypnotized, but it is actually not like that at all. I am completely cognizant throughout the entire process. During the first session I had a lot of trouble staying focused and it seemed like my brain was not willing to cooperate. I will admit that later that evening I was pretty disappointed. I felt like I had hit another brick wall. After some pep talks, I decided to go to my next appointment with an open mind. My third session with Jon was a lot more productive. We started the eye movements and it was amazing. We identified a target image and after Jon started the eye movements my brain took over. I am not really sure how to describe it, but it is sort of like a film strip of events going through my mind. Every now and then Jon would stop and I would discuss what I had seen. The memories came pouring in. It was a great session. The next morning I woke up and did not have that instant feeling of terror for the first time in months. It was beautifully reassuring. That first day after EMDR was like getting a cast off and not being sure if I could walk on my leg yet. I felt as though I was gingerly stepping through my day. While I was nervous about how I was feeling, it was a very nice break from my normally neurotically anxious mind.

This feeling lasted about a day and a half. I then entered what I refer to as the black hole. I felt like I was worthless. I felt like I had no function. I felt like I was destined for failure. Looking back on this I realize that this may have been part of a grieving process for me. Who am I without PTSD? If I don’t have these constant fears and anxieties then what will become of me? Who am I supposed to be without PTSD? It took a few days to hash through this, but I am starting to realize that me without PTSD can be someone that enjoys watching grass grow. I don’t have to change the world or be a crusader. I can be at peace with me and enjoy the life and the nature that God has created. This is a big concept for me. I am still trying to process it as I type this. My regular therapist, Cheryl Wolf, (www.integralhealercwolf.c

om) has been helping me work through the aftermath of the EMDR sessions. She also helps me to continue the healing process through cognitive therapy.

My fourth session with Jon took place on Tuesday. We discussed the black hole and how EMDR is working for me and then jumped into the eye movements. This session was similar to the previous one. My brain traveled along the filmstrip of events. Some of the events that came up were things I had completely forgotten about. Some of the events that came up were surprising. After going through the process I remember the events and know them to be true. They were just blocked in there somewhere. I know that now is the time to deal with them. I left this session feeling like someone had opened me up and said, “Here…this is who you were.” I felt lighter in some ways and sad in others. It seems that I will be grieving a bit after each session. Perhaps that is the point.

I think one of the hardest things I have had to do is go back to the place with all of these memories the day after EMDR. I went to visit my sister and my nephews. The night before my visit, I felt strong and courageous. The morning of my visit I felt like a frightened child. Gina and I made the journey back to Iowa. The entire event was surreal. I was physically in the place that I had just traveled to in my memory the previous day. I think I was physically and emotionally numb the entire time. I did get to see my sister and my nephews though and as we drove back to the lovely Bourbonnais, I could feel the anxiety and fears melting away. They did not melt away completely, but I definitely knew that I was headed to a safe and secure place.

So what am I learning from all of this? I am learning that God is here and is not leaving me. I am learning that, “He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” Psalm 23:3. I am learning that healing is a process. As the year 2010 approaches I plan to continue the healing process and push forward on my journey of self-discovery. I am admittedly scared, but I am excited at the same time.

PTSD - 2

As much as I would like to shout from the rooftops that I am cured from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), I am not. I have good days and not-so-good days. Today would fall under the latter. I have made some significant steps with the help of all of the people that support me and of course God.

I have been going back to therapy. I see Cheryl Wolf, a wonderful and very empathetic therapist (www.integralhealercwolf.com). She has been helping me through cognitive therapy. In my sessions with Cheryl, we talk through how I am handling triggers. A trigger is something or someone that sets off a chain of associations, thoughts, emotions, and memories. She also helps me work through the aspects of PTSD that I do not understand. Cheryl is also very reassuring and answers any questions I have about thoughts or behavior.

I have also started to see a psychiatrist in town. I see Dr. Xu at Provena St. Mary’s Behavior Health Network. Dr. Xu works mainly with medication. He helps me to understand which medication would be best to help me and how to take it appropriately. He also helps me to understand side effects and the adjustments I will see as a result of the medication. I see him every few weeks to talk about how the medication is working. If I need an adjustment in medication he will take care of that. I have only seen him twice, but so far he is pretty nice. He has prescribed a new medication to help me work through the symptoms of PTSD and the subsequent depression. I will readily admit that in the beginning I was hesitant about taking medication. I have had several conversations with people about it. I have come to the conclusion that there is medication for colds and the flu. We have medications for headaches and stomach pains. Why not take a medication that will help relieve the symptoms of PTSD and depression? Few have argued that this type of medication is not necessary and should not be taken. My response to them is to come back and talk to me when they have been dealing with an issue like this for a week or two (or in my case years).

The next step in my recovery process is trying something new. I am willing to confess that I am very nervous about this step. I am seeing another therapist, in addition to Cheryl, that specializes in a process called Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR). EMDR “attends to the past experiences that have set the groundwork for pathology, the current situations that trigger dysfunctional emotions, beliefs and sensations, and the positive experience needed to enhance future adaptive behaviors and mental health. During treatment various procedures and protocols are used to address the entire clinical picture. One of the procedural elements is ‘dual stimulation’ using either bilateral eye movements, tones or taps. During the reprocessing phases the client attends momentarily to past memories, present triggers, or anticipated future experiences while simultaneously focusing on a set of external stimulus. During that time, clients generally experience the emergence of insight, changes in memories, or new associations. The clinician assists the client to focus on appropriate material before initiation of each subsequent set” (EMDR Institute, Inc.) If you want more information on this process you can go to www.emdr.com. I will be seeing Mr. Jon Dodds for this therapy (www.jondoddscounseling.com). Therapists have to go through training to become certified to use EMDR. The therapist that I currently go to does not have that certification. I am lucky that Mr. Dodds is willing to work alongside my current therapist. So far I have only spoken with Mr. Dodds on the phone. He seems very nice. I am very nervous about going and about attempting the EMDR process. Confronting the issues head on that terrify me the most is not something I look forward to.

So why am I writing about this? I have a few reasons. First, I want people to know that while this is a scary issue, it does not need to be hidden. This is also not a problem to be ashamed of. I am not proud of having PTSD, but I do not feel that it needs to be hidden. I have it. It is here and it is part of what makes me who I am. I also want people to understand my never-ending pleas for prayer. This is a terrifying time for me. Every now and then I will have a moment where my body completely relaxes. Almost every time that happens I get a text or an instant message saying that someone is praying for me. That is proof to me that prayer works and that God is, in fact, here with me. I have times when I doubt. I have doubted a few times today to tell the truth. The important part is that deep down I know that He is here and He is carrying me through this. I know this must be true because I am still getting out of bed and I am still pushing through the day. I am pretty sure that this would not be happening if God was not carrying me through. Finally, I write this because it is somewhat therapeutic. It makes me feel a little relieved to see it all written down. I am not completely able to release it, but I think that when I write this all down I am able to give up a small part of the load that I am carrying.

Thank you to all who been so supportive.

Something New!

I am excited to announce that I will be attempting something new. I am going to try to learn how to quilt. This probably isn't thrilling news for many, but I am pretty excited about it. I have so many ideas floating around in my head. I cannot wait to try them all out. So far I have learned some quilting vocabulary. For example I now know that:

batting is the lining between the top and the bottom layers of the quilt.

binding is the part that finishes off the edge of the quilt.

lattice is the fabric that frames each block of the quilt.

Okay, so it's not a vaulting start, but it's something, right? I have been emphatically looking at different patterns (very easy ones) and different types of fabric. I have been looking at the possibility of using a quilt kit to start. Mostly I have been daydreaming like you wouldn't believe. But then, daydreaming is what I do best.

One of the best pieces of news to come from this is that there may be a Stitch-n-Bitch group forming. This is fantastic news! How much more fun will it be to figure this all out while spending time with friends!

Wish me luck. I have big plans!

adults

I am extremely tired of trying to deal with life in the adult world. I am thankful for my everyday issues and the happenings of each new adventure, but I must say that I am truly confused by what I can only assume is human nature. Why must adults always act as though they have no clue about life. I spend a fair amount of time with children and have found that their dealings with the heavy issues makes so much more sense.

Rather than beat around the bush, I will simply get to the point. I don't understand some of my co-workers when they act out in angry, teenage-like gestures. I don't understand when people say that they are being supportive and then turn and walk away. I literally had someone come on chat today and tell me that if I felt like talking he/she is a good listener. I started typing my response and this person signed off. What was that?!

At this point in time I prefer eleven-year-olds. Simplicity Simplicity Simplicity!

Days like today and posts like this make me glad that no one reads this blog. I just need to vent and publish.

PTSD - 1

So here it is. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. I was diagnosed with this thorn in my side when I was about sixteen years old. At that time I was given medication to help me work through the symptoms, but I really didn’t get any counseling for my PTSD. Looking back I can’t imagine why someone didn’t recommend I be put in counseling specifically for PTSD. In my defense I was only sixteen and I didn’t really understand what to do. In everyone else’s defense I had struggled with an eating disorder and had been in counseling for that, so they probably didn’t think pursuing anything further was necessary. Either way the counseling for PTSD didn’t happen.

For those of you that are hearing about PTSD for the first time, according to The Nebraska Department of Veterans’ Affairs, “PTSD, or Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of a life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist incidents, serious accidents, or physical or sexual assault in adult or childhood. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time. However, some people will have stress reactions that do not go away on their own, or may even get worse over time. These individuals may develop PTSD. People who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person’s daily life.”

My life threatening experience was an accumulation of events from my childhood. I believe the hub of this disorder is rooted in my step-mother’s attempted suicide. This is a life-threatening event that I witnessed, so it would make sense for it to be a major contributor to my PTSD. My step-mother survived her attempt, but assured everyone that she would, in fact, try again. This happened when I was thirteen years old. Upon her return home, I spent every moment expecting to find her dead. I was not sure how she would attempt to end her life so my mind began to see everything as an opportunity for her to finish what she’d started. I would walk very slowly around corners looking for shadows and listening for any indication of what might be waiting for me. I was on watch every moment of every day. While this was all frightening, I was also terrified that she would hurt me or even my father. I had overheard someone say that if she can do that to herself, imagine what she could do to someone else. Therefore, when I was not watching to see if I would walk in on her second attempt, I was watching my back at every turn to be sure that she wasn’t after me or my dad. Obviously, this was a terrifying time. It lasted solidly from when I was thirteen to when I was eighteen and able to leave.

So I lived. I left. I went to college. I earned a bachelor’s and then a master’s degree; both related to education. I am not married. I do not have children. I do have a wonderful roommate. She is my sister in Christ and I love her dearly. I have a beautiful family in her and her two beautiful children. I have a wide spread support system. I go to a lovely church that is filled with some truly lovely people. I have a job that is stressful at times, but can be rewarding. My life is filled with beautiful blessings. Why then am I stuck in the past? Why am I dwelling on what is over and done with? The answer to that question is agonizingly simple: because my brain won’t let me do anything else. The thorn in my side that is PTSD will not release the images of what I lived through. Instead my brain replays the horrific events of my past as if it is stuck on repeat. I have nightmares and flashbacks. I have anxiety attacks. I have debilitating fears. While I have physically moved on to a safer and more beautiful surrounding, my brain has remained trapped in the past.

So now what? Do I just live this way? Is my life always going to be enveloped in fear? Can my past really control my future? The answer to all of these questions is painfully complex. I can take medication to help with the symptoms. I can receive cognitive therapy to work through my past and the symptoms of my PTSD. I can push through each day and continue to fight for freedom and peace of mind. I do not have to live my life this way forever. It may seem that way at times, but I do not have to be trapped in my past for the rest of my life. My past can control my future, but only if I let it. What my step-mother did not know all of those years is that in between the torturous fear that she created I was praying and calling on God. I was developing a support system. I was making plans for my future. I was educating myself and pursuing a life outside of the abusive walls she was putting up. What she didn’t know is that I’m a fighter. Not physically, though I would like to think I could hold my own, but mentally and emotionally. I’m a fighter and I have the most amazing support on my side: Jesus.