Fear, PTSD and the Light

I remember when I was first diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) thinking, "Well, okay, I can handle this, and I won't be one of those people that has it for ten years or the rest of their lives, I'll be "done" soon."  I also remember asking my first therapist over and over at every session, "When will I be, like, you know, DONE." 

The first month or so was a nightmare, though looking back now I see the humor in it, the absolute chaos of it.  I was cold or hot, needed to be inside, no OUTSIDE, crying or laughing, laying down, no sitting UP, and if I misplaced something, my lighter for instance, the panic that would rush over me, Oh My God, WHERE IS MY LIGHTER?  Everything was a ten on a scale of one to ten.. there was no middle ground....It was all panic and fear and tears.  Flashbacks and horror, the world upside down and inside out.

This year marks ten years, ten years from the moment I had my first flashback, ten years of fighting my way through all the flashbacks, fear, night terrors, panic attacks, kinesthetic body memories and agoraphobia.

This year has been transformative for me, I have conquered the agoraphobia and am no longer bound to my home.   I have seen the light, tasted it, felt it run through my finger tips and bathed in it.  I have felt pure joy and abandon for the first time in my life.

And, now.. just when I felt my most whole, closer to freedom than I ever have, when I felt nothing on earth could stop me from doing anything I want, that I had won...

The rug beneath me was yanked out again, and I am lost in the sea of PTSD again, flashback, body memory, panic attack, sorrow and grief and yearning to scream out to the Universe: "This is NOT fair, I'm too tired, soul weary, I have fought too hard to be lost again, how strong am I expected to be?"

I am reminded of a quote my therapist shared with me from Mother Theresa:

“I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much.” ~Blessed Mother Teresa

Right? Hey God, Universe, Divine Spirit could you cut me some slack here? Could you NOT trust me so damn much? 

Despite feeling impossibly low and exhausted and empty, I went to both my group therapy and regular therapy this week.   I went after letting my Therapist know that I was on empty, that I had nothing to give, that I was a mess.

The women in my group amaze me, every single time we meet, I am in awe of their caring, support, unconditional love and acceptance.  I am blessed to know each of them, and learn from each of them every time we meet.  I learn how to be more whole, I learn that it's okay to simply be, me.

I went to group this week feeling I could not take the next step, I could not deal with this moment, let alone contemplate the next.  I went even though I was deep in mourning for the light, and terrified I would never see it again.

This amazing group of women held me safe, both literally and metaphorically.  They listened, and held each word I spilled out on the floor safe, without judgement, with compassion and love.  I looked in each of their eyes and saw the light reflected  back to me, felt the power of unconditional love and acceptance and  realized how very blessed I am.  I knew in those moments, and even now as i type this, that if I was not strong enough, they would be my strength, if I could not see the light, they would guide me, and that no matter how dark and impossible the next step might feel, they would help me find the way.

Today I feel so Graced, so Blessed. I have my sister who knows my history because it's her history too, who loves me and is a beacon of light on the path ahead. I have a Therapist who understands what I'm going through and always shines a light so I can find my next step, a group of women who I consider sisters who care about me unconditionally and support me on my path.  I have my best friend, who knows how hard this work is, who has been there and who loves and supports me in every moment.

I am blessed to still be on this planet, that alone is a Victory. Each step I take is a Victory.  Each moment I'm walking this healing path, I win.   I will take this next step toward the light, and the next step, and the next and the next and the one after that.


To all of you that are Survivors, I say thank you.  Thank you for surviving, thank you for doing the hard work of healing. Thank you for lighting the path ahead for all who may follow.  Thank you for being the brave Warrior that you are.

I wish each of you a beautiful and blessed day~

And The Rain Pours Down

This afternoon the rain is pouring down outside, and inside too, I feel tears needing to be born....though I'm not at all sure why.  I feel this inner urge to yell, scream, bellow at the top of my lungs.   I want to hit things, not something soft but rather a wall or the ground, pounding it with my fist.

I want to run with the storm, race the lightning.... my hair whipped by the wind,  my bare feet splashing through rain puddles, my toes digging into the mud, the earth until I cannot move another inch and collapse into a heap on the rain soaked ground.   I want the thunder to roll over me, through me, I want to open my mouth wide and birth that window shaking sound, that crack of thunder that feels like it could tear apart mountains.

Sometimes, the words that say what I'm going through and where I am in my healing don't  feel big enough, or clear enough or loud enough.  Flashbacks.  Night Terrors. Kinesthetic Body Memories.  My weekend, was filled to overflowing with all three.   I felt as though I were drowning... as though I had somehow after ten years of fighting to heal, been dropped back in time to the first few months of PTSD.

I'm tired....exhausted and soul-deep weary.   I can't fathom processing another memory, dealing with another body memory or fighting for peaceful sleep.

And yet....

This place, just here.....I know too, and I know it will ease and I will feel strong again.  But, just now?  I am filled to overflowing with sorrow, and the tears are coming and finding their way down my face one at a time.

There is this enormous hill ahead of me, almost a mountain, and it holds the most treacherous and difficult part of my healing journey.  It holds the darkest memories and the hardest pieces of my history to acknowledge and accept and I want to run, run like the wind, though I know the only way out is through.  Up and over that mountain is the only way to the light I seek, the light I know is beckoning me to come, urging me up and over and into it's arms.

I wasn't going to post today.  My instinct to only put here what is inspiring and light filled, only what may help someone reading it to take the next step, or be able to be present and in the moment and know they aren't alone.     But, sometimes, it's good to just know you aren't alone....to know that there's another soul out there fighting depression, or yearning to scream or beyond exhausted and THAT can be the inspiration.

And so here I am.

My words tumbled out of my heart and soul and mind, not perfect, but messy and authentic and true and here on this page.   This is one of those hard moments on the healing path that is horrendously steep and rocky and I keep tripping and falling and yearning to just sit it out for awhile.  Instead I keep picking my battered and bruised and bloody self up and stumbling forward and into the next moment, hoping, praying that it will be easier, softer, more light filled around the bend in the road just ahead.

I remember once, speaking with someone I looked up to growing up, and a moment when he smiled at me, and pointing at the cloudy skies above us one evening, he said: "You know, just because the clouds prevent us from seeing them, doesn't mean that the moon and stars aren't there."

So, today I hold him to that.   I feel cloudy and my skies feel dark and ominous and I cannot see the stars or moon....but I do know they are there... and I do know the light is there too... I just can't see it right now.   Perhaps I will see it tomorrow, or in the next moment, or the moment after that.  For today, that knowledge will be enough.

I  thank each of you for surviving, for continuing to heal, for the light you shed in the world, for the light you shed on my path, on all our paths.  May you have a blessed and beautiful evening.

The Wonder of it All

Yesterday I got to "run away."  The sun was shining and it was 72 degrees as though Summer and Fall had decided to cohabitate for a bit.  My friends and I (and my pup Bella) loaded into the car around 1 pm and headed toward the beach.   It's about an hour and 15 minute drive from my home to the beach, through  the Oregon Coast Range mountains,  where the Fall colors are out in fierce golds, orange and fiery red leaves.

The drive alone, along the winding mountain road, the hilltops deep green with fir and pine trees the light coming through the branches painting with shadow and light on the pavement of the road was worth the trip.  Here and there Autumn shouted out it's presence in trees still bushy with brightly colored leaves, and just a few leaves dancing on the breeze and swirling down to hit the highway.

There was much laughter along the way, and Bella, my pup was like a small child, so excited to be going, to be in the car and on her way somewhere, anywhere.  I felt much the same, to be free of my agoraphobia is such an amazing gift!   Everything is new, like I'm seeing it for the first time and I am so filled with a sense of grace, an awareness that I am so lucky to be alive and to be seeing through new eyes.

It's as though I am 43 and 5 and 18 all at once, the sky is more blue, the light more golden and brilliant, the forest a wonder filled with possibilities and I am in awe of it all, and what the next moment or curve in the road may bring.

When we reached the beach at last, and settled our things near a huge piece of driftwood, Bella and I raced for the water's edge.   There is something about getting my feet into the ocean about feeling the undertow such at my toes and then the waves crashing against my feet and calves that soothes me like  nothing else on the planet.   Bella is so well trained now that I was able to let her off leash, and she bounded around me, running with me through the surf, and I saw my own joy and sense of freedom in her big brown eyes and felt tears streaming down my cheeks though I was smiling.

In that moment of her own first real freedom and my own, we were both filled with joy and ran through the surf together, racing and playing, splashing and I found I was both crying and giggling.

 I realized in those moments, that every single moment of hard work, every flashback, every body memory, every night terror was worth it.  And, more than that, that I wouldn't change a thing about my life for anything in the world because it made me who I am here, today, and I like me... in fact I love the whole, sum total of me....   That is an amazing thing, a miracle.

It's a miracle I Survived, it's a miracle I'm alive, it's a miracle I'm not in a mental institution somewhere, it's a miracle that I can like myself and more, it's a miracle that I can love myself, just as I am.

The trip left me both physically exhausted (it's hard to keep up with a 3 year old pup at 43!) and emotionally renewed.   Today I am feeling so graced and so grateful to be alive, and ready to continue the work, all of it.  I know now I can finish this healing process, that in fact, nothing will stop me because it can only get better from here, yes.....the hardest of hard work is what's ahead, but I will go through it and come out the other side and into the light, and I will fly, soar and be able then to reach back and help others in their own healing path, which is my dream.

So I leave you with this today, no matter how hard or impossible your healing may feel, no matter how dark and alone you may feel, no matter what.... You CAN do it, you will do it, and you will succeed because you are a Survivor and we Survivors are Warriors, fierce and strong and nothing can stop us.

And when the battle seems it's hardest, there will be days filled with mountains and sunshine and an ocean so huge it can take and hold safely all the pain, tears and fear.   There will be moments of such joy it seems too huge to hold and there will be tears and there will be laughter and the realization that, we already won.   We won, we Survived.

May your day be filled with light and love and wonder.

Gratitude

Yesterday I conquered the fear.  I not only conquered it, I stomped it into the ground, wrote out the fierce, dark, slick and oozing terror filled memory onto the page and left it there.  There were flashbacks, kinesthetic memories and crying, screaming at the universe, thoughts of: "why me? how could they? why would anyone? how could anyone?" Shame, fear, tears, sorrow, regret, guilt and the thought of never writing another word.....and then, finishing the story, the truth....closing the page and walking away.

As a Survivor, and I capitalize that word on purpose by the way....a Survivor to me is a Warrior, strong, fierce, determined, purified by the flames of suffering and pain.... a Survivor shines with an inner light that radiates outward like a beacon, saying: "Yes, I'm here, still here, I'm here and fighting for my life, for my right to be here, for ME."   As a Survivor, I have fought so many battles, conquered so many demons, done so much work, walked a billion steps on this healing path....and none have seemed as terrifying, exhausting and impossible as this work just here, where I see the light on the other side of the doorway, where it's so close I can sometimes touch it.

After I left the page, the tears and flashbacks and body memories....I got myself up and into a shower with the intention of washing it all away.  With the intention set, in my mind and heart and soul to let the water wash over me, the whole of me, and let it take with it, as it found it's way down the drain the fear, shame, guilt, sorrow and shame.

I was left with a deep sense of Gratitude.

Grateful to have survived, grateful to be alive, grateful for this moment, just here, when I know I have won, and those that abused me have lost.  each breath I take , each step I take on this path, each moment that I'm alive is a victory.  I am looking with new eyes today, it feels like I'm seeing everything for the very first time.  The sky is a brilliant blue and the scent of Autumn is carried on a soft breeze that feels like a warm embrace.

I am strong, stronger than any prize fighter, braver than any warrior on a battlefield and more determined to finish this healing than ever.  I am in awe this morning of every Survivor on the planet, every woman that wakes up each day to continue her fight to BE a Survivor.   I am ready for whatever the next moment will bring me, ready to write the next piece of the story that I'm terrified of, ready to face whatever challenge I am given to overcome.

This sense of Gratitude with a capital "G" is overwhelming, and I am grateful to each of you who may read this, for reading it, for continuing on your healing path, no matter how rocky or indescribably terrifying it may be.  I am grateful for this moment, and the next and next... because I am a Survivor and because I am learning to thrive, to truly live, to have moments of absolute joy, to revel in moments of peace and I want to shout from the rooftops that it CAN be done, that we can win in every single moment, that in our act of living, in each and every single moment we DO win.  And nothing.. no one.... can take that away, ever.

Thank you, for surviving, for taking each step, for living each moment no matter how scary it may be... thank you for lighting the path for those that follow, and thank you to those that have lit it before us.... I am grateful.

May you have a blessed day, filled with light and love and peace.

Fear

There is something about showing up to this page, to any page, that sends fear ricocheting through my body, head to toe, hands shaking, heart racing, that old too-familiar panic showing it's face.  Then I am forced to take a step back, and I wonder to myself, "Why?"   Why panic, fear, anxiety at this writing, the thing I love most in the world to do, why.. now that I know... that I dare to dream of writing as something I'm Supposed to do, rather than some stolen, hidden secret that I dare not imagine?

The "Why" is in the act itself.   The "why" is in daring to break the radio silence that is so ingrained, so trained into me, it feels closer than my own breath.  Don't tell.  Don't talk. Don't write. Don't even think about it.   Those dire warnings still carry the chemical, body remembered follow up of: ... Or Die.   I wonder is the anxiety and terror in part the bodies reaction to that dire warning, that follow up fact of death?  "Oh yes! If I talk/write/tell/whisper.. death."  says the body as my pen hits the paper or my fingers hit the keys.

And I'm full circle almost, and I feel as though I'm getting repetitive. Reclamation!   Even here, chest tight, breath fast, sweat beading on my brow, hands shaking as the letters appear on my screen... This space, this moment, these words... all MINE.   I claim them again and again every time a letter appears on this screen on this stark white terrifying background, each letter, each word, each phrase is a victory and is my own. Mine.

There is more work to be done today, more writing, probably the dark, scary writing that feels too oily black, thick and dark and tainted to ever see the light of day.   And I am scared.  Terrified. The urge to run, to NOT write it, to not put it on the page is strong and fierce like an undertow of the ocean, grasping at me, threatening to take me under.

That too, that terror, I claim as my own, the urge to run but the decision to NOT run, to let the fear be present but write the words anyway, I claim. Mine.  I wonder if the fear, the terror will ever fade completely one day?   I wonder too, will letting those dark, scary, fear-filled words hit the page, despite the terror, will that begin to shed light where no light has reached before?   Will surrendering to the process, accepting it all, fear, shame, anxiety and words written despite it all.. transform the words into something entirely different than I could have ever imagined?  Perhaps so, perhaps not... but either way, they will be MY words, written by me, claimed by me, owned by me.  Mine.

May your day be filled with love and light.

Reclamation

RECLAMATION
  Use Reclamation in a sentence

rec·la·ma·tion

[rek-luh-mey-shuhn] Show IPA noun

1. the reclaiming  of desert, marshy, or submerged areas

2. the act or process of reclaiming.

3. the state of being reclaimed. 

I'm not sure why this word has captured my attention so strongly just now. Reclamation.   Perhaps it's because I DO feel as if I'm reclaiming my life, my heart, my soul, my body, my mind.... and even things like my apartment, my kitchen, my bathroom.   I notice all the "My's" in the sentence above and the inner urge is to erase them. But, I won't.  Mine.  Each day as I wake up, there is this moment before the world starts, before the pup needs to be taken out, the cats cry to be fed, the phone rings .. where I lay in bed and think: "Today is Mine."

There is power in those words.

As a survivor we learn quickly that nothing, not even ourselves, can we claim.  We certainly can't claim a home, or safety, or our bodies, or our minds.... that's all ripped away, or violated or claimed by an abuser or, or, or.....   

To this day, 43 years old, I still cannot say: "My desire is...."   Just typing half that sentence causes anxiety for me, my old familiar panic rushing up, heart racing, the urge to run washing over me.  Run where?  I've never known, but the urge is there nonetheless.   So, there is much work still ahead for me, clearly.   This path of healing is long, hard, exhausting and often terrifying.  But today, just here, just now.  I don't have to conquer THAT particular piece.

For today.. This Moment right here, I reclaim my right to a wonderful life.  I reclaim my body, the whole of it, mine.  I reclaim my mind, and heart and soul.   I reclaim my kitchen, my bathroom, my living room... all mine.. no others.

This Moment... reclamation is my goal, and more than that, it is my present.  Even if it means repeating to myself inwardly or outwardly, whispered or shouted.... This is MINE.. mine alone.  Nobody and nothing can take that away.

May you have a blessed and beautiful day today, find something, anything to reclaim, and whisper.. or shout it from rooftops!

This Moment.. just now

I have always loved Fall.   There is something in the way light falls, at least here in the North West, it takes on this golden, buttery, soft, rich, full hue, something in the very quality of the light itself seems to shift.... I always have this sense that at this time of  year, if I just reach out, just a bit farther, I can grasp the light itself, and hold it for my own.  Or perhaps it's that I feel held, cradled in that sweet golden light, and that I can rest at last.

Then too, there is the dance of the leaves at this time of year.   The way they slip from their moorings and begin a slow spiraling dance down to the ground, whispering softly their secrets that I can never quite hear.   Watching them scatter off the toes of my shoes as I walk, every movement a dance, an offering up, a surrender.. and it makes me want to run, or  perhaps dance with them, falling to the ground, laying on my back amongst them, one of them.. surrendering myself as I stare at the sky above and ponder what comes next.

This Moment, And The Next.  The beginning of this blog was somehow scarier and harder and more anxiety filled than I thought it would be.   I see it as a reclamation.  A beginning, statement of what and who I am, where I want to be, where I'm going, where I've been, and hopefully along the way it will all become clear and cohesive and maybe, just maybe, some word, or turn of phrase will ease someone elses way on their path.

So, I begin this on the first day of my favorite month, as the sun streams in my window and the breeze seems to be calling me outside to play.  I had a bout of fierce anxiety and had to stop for a bit, reach out and ask for help. (Something that is still fiercely hard for me to do and seems still, fraught with danger.)  I had to step away from the page and the ink that hits the page and makes solid and real what I sometimes still wish were a dream or made up.. or untrue.

The first "This Moment" came unexpectedly and snuck in quietly unannounced on a day very similar to this one.. filled with the scent of apples and burning wood, the light golden and soft and the leaves beginning to abandon their branches.   I still see the first "Moment" clearly in my mind's eye like a snapshot... except with taste and scent and touch.... a nearly perfectly kept memory, something I have very few of.

I feel myself grasping for this to be so much clearer than it feels.  I feel as though I need to fill this page with back story, history for it to be understood, felt, accepted. But perhaps today, just here is enough, feeling the Fall breeze play across my skin as it did ten years ago, when I began to truly live.  On a sweet September afternoon, when a simple question.. an innocent question, began to let the light in.   The light of the truth, the light of knowledge and of more questions.  That was the first day of my life I could truly claim as my own.  The day I realized, I am a Survivor.   The day I committed to healing, to finding my way along my path of healing to the end, no matter what.  

That was the first day I realized the only way to continue, to go through something so hard, and exhausting, terrifying and overwhelming is one step at a time.   This Moment, and the next, and the next.  That's all I had to worry about.   And it still holds true to this day. 

This Moment.   And this Moment.  It's enough, for today.

May you have a blessed and beautiful day.