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.