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For sure, dissociation is, was, and might still affect me. While highly irritating and even a tad angry in its aftermatch, I started to turn around on that attitude once when, apologizing to my T for "xonking" out, she reassured me that this happens frequently with trauma survivors, and the the best part of my dissociation that day was simply that I noticed. That reassurance was highly supportive, as I was in the habit of piling fault on fault with regard to what I consider my inadequacies in handling all the nastiness that involuntarily invades whatever I'm doing.

But triggers and flashbacks being what they are, it happened again and still can haunt me. But I go back to what she told me -- "this is alright, you're okay; more than okay."

I've noticed this can happen so many times -- even while reading, when I get to the hard stuff (or material reminiscent of same, sometimes far-fetched, I can find myself in the "zone". The worst, of course, is when it interferes with people interactions. There it's harder to explain, but I've noticed I can sense when it might happen and somewhat when it does.

I wish you well, but first things first -- it's normal, you're ok, and you have noticed its presence, and perhaps understood it isn't the end of the world, that many of us experience the same jolt to our equilibrium.

Welcome back, Hope. Your thoughtful writings are always relevant and heartfelt sharing about what can be an up/down/inside/out experience that's also never easy to find words for.

 

"Sometimes when you're in a dark place, you think you've been buried, but actually you've been planted." CHRISTINE CAINE

from the book by Compton, Ellen. Good Things Happen in the Dark: A Candid Manifesto for Courageous Authenticity.

This imagery brought to mind the earlier (1908) book THE SECRET GARDEN and its subsequent serialization on BBC TV in 1975. Both of these were discussed by several people on this forum a few years ago.

   

 

Wouldn't ya know, as soon as I dropped off what I wrote above, a very healing book I own literally popped off my bookshelf (okay, literally off my massive Kindle feed  ).

I recall it as being one of my favourite discoveries along the lines of finding the encouragement I crave when the darkness descends (not just sleep deprivation).

Okay, the writer is Ellen Compton; the book title GOOD THINGS HAPPEN IN THE DARK: A Candid Manifesto for Courageous Authenticity.

Reading it again reminds me of what I mean when I say I prefer the word 'discovery' to 'recovery'.
 

Thanks to all who chimed in on this. I know I'm not alone with this wicked, repetitive symptom.

I've considered and used a number of drugs and other preparations designed as sleep aids and found I have to watch out. Melatonin, for instance, also can be a damper on lung function, as I found out once and don't want to risk again. A huge complication is asthma, which is mild and generally well controlled, unless I ingest super-relaxers like melatonin.

I'm suspicious of drugs in general, mostly due to a history of mis-prescribed items (med people love to throw prescriptions without bothering about side effects. For years, my asthma was said to be controlled by steroidal drugs which probably contributed over years to my glaucoma of a few years back now, but until the steroirs were cut out I didn't realize they were contributing to the eye condition which can lead to blindness.

While I found relief via a very competent eye physician who probably saved my vision via 2 glaucoma surgeries, it reminded me of how side effects in so many areas are ignored by many medical professionals. Then there's the pluses to that notion -- I've known a couple of people who died likely due to the misprescription of deppression aids (some of which also contribute to the sight probs -- I know that from direct experiences of my own). Throw in a botched leg surgery which has never healed right and I remain super-cautious per drugs; albeit I use one asthma med that helps without the steroidal probs certain treatments cause or exacerbate.

Sum it all up and I'm extremely wary of going the med, or even the 'natural', route per ingested items.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck with the 'haunting' old voices which actally are less bothersome than they used to be (thanks in part to some work with my T on this), BUT the fact they still float into mind so often I find scary and, as per so many cPTSD remnants, extremely disappointed to find them still flaring up; even or especially as overall I sense a vast overall improvement in my general cPTSD discoveries (I call my process this, finding more hope in discovery than I do with recovery, which is past-oriented, where so many symptoms originated and still originate from.

Anyway, it got to the point recently that I felt so desperate on the night I sent in that post. Meanwhile, by continuing to process those new discoveries I touched on my wish remains to at least turn the tide somewhat and feel more equilibrium vs. the desperate dysfunction of those sleepless nights.

Thanks for being here, listening, and sharing your own wisdom nuggets with me.

It's nearing my bedtime (which can vary quite a bit) and I feel the scare settling in with me. This nightly habit is, I fear, only the start of another horrible night.

Let's start with a 'should' or two. I should do better with this; for several years, given my deep therapy (from bibliotherapy -- reading: to in-person talk therapy with a wonderful therapist, I've felt a vast overall improvement building in my attitudes regarding the awful afterlife of Cptsd.

Should do better at night, too.

Then it happens    -- if I even get to sleep (the thoughts seem to flow in no matter what I try). If I somehow am able to drift off, the 'should not' story dominates the 'should' almost every night.

I 'should not' wake up screaming (at least I live alone in a remote area) that "I'm no good, can't have nice things, am a pariah to others, blah blah"   notions from the f, reinforced by many others in my youth (and beyond). And then some more; it just piles on  .


By the time I try to recover my mantra: PEACE/LOVE it's so late the hope for restful sleep has passed. Sometimes a tylenol med will settle me, sometimes not. And no, I don't want to experiment with drugs beyond that (I prefer drug-free as much as possible -- maybe you know, the sense of 'doing' it on my own.

Which still leaves me unsettled, fearful while trying not to despair. Maybe even writing this (I've done it beore and deleted it in lieu of not wanting to sound absurdly pathetic).

Okay, I guess that qualifies this as more of a rant than anything of much substance ("your'e no good" echoes as I write this). With tears I hope via this little bit to have started the process of driving these old voices out of my being, and finding out what a full sleep might be like.

Thanks for grinding through this mass of words. It may even sound too familiar to you. If so, perhaps collectively we'll know that better days are ahead. Please?

As a fellow cat person, I grieve with you; know that special bond and grief from when my previous cats died.

Albeit, I now have an elderly 20 year old cat who's shown signs of his age, but still gets around okay. Interestingly, he just came over to me and decided to sit and cuddle with me while I'm typing this. In that mysterious sense you noted, it's like he sensed my discomfort as I read your post, and sidled over to keep me company.

His name is Mystic and is pure white. He 'adopted' me shortly after his birth; although I'm not sure where exactly he came from, and no one in the area reported a missing cat. It's a very rural area, with no close neighbours to speak of. So I feel like he 'adopted' me, somehow.

Okay, enough for me -- I wish you and your family some commiseration the deep loss you're feeling.

 

Hi, Remberin. 

I latched onto your comment about feeling safe, especially given the sharing part of a journal being shared with fellow travelers.

I sensed your need for peace. Maybe you can put some visualization into how you approach your wriings here. Maybe make this kind of a Salf-Haven resort, even. And while at Self-Haven, you have access to your own writing shack, where you can both receive thoughts (I picture thoughts as a waterfall), ponder them, and comfortably write what comes for you, with no fear of harsh literary critiques, but just you, in your world, with your past over there, but also the present-future, represented by the peaceful ambience you've created for your own nook here at Self Haven.

As it's safe, it's also open to surprise(s), which you can share via the journal. And remember, you're not writing to entertain so much as share and commiserate with those who know the pain and angst you've probably had, like those of us reading along, ready to learn along with you, share compassion, and acquaint ourselves with your inner strength and fortitude.

For my part, I always feel a tad weird bopping into another's journal like this, so take it or leave it. As I mentioned, I just felt drawn to your heartfelt pondering as you start your journal. May you find some of the peace you yearn for.   

Sorry, I find this topic irresistible and realize my previous writing here wasn't exactly very personal, except for the Saint Lucia incident which I've also wrote about in a separate post a few weeks back.

Anyway, I also recall an incident that occurred around 20 years ago that had the most impact towards changing my outlook per the Christmas hoopla. Following a childhood where I dreaded it as just another relic of people I couldn't relate to, at all.

The incident I speak of was set in motion when a friend and I decided to take in a performance by a group called the Christmas Revels. A bit skeptical that this might reorient our rather jaded view of the holiday season, my friend and I thought we might at least find some diversion, we headed out, not really expecting much.

Famous last words, those. Lots of the usual Christmas trappings seemed present, but the most prominent visual element was an enormous wreath depicting the image of what some people in ancient times called the Green Man, a symbol of the promised return of spring.

There was lots more elements (music, drama, symbolism) that set the evening apart from the usual. I was usually reticent to fall in place with overt joyful forms of expression, especially in public (you know, the introverted, scared kid routine). Until the invitation from the evening's 'jester' host to join in a ritual dance out of the seats and out of the building to a rather raucous rendition of "Lord of the Dance". I mean, I'd never been a dancer, but there we went ... and with each step (or stomp LOL), the dour view I'd arrived with melted away.

And so we danced the night away under the celebratory gaze of the Green Man himself. From that point on I started devouring all things per the season, across the ages and from various cultures. Once I'd dropped the sad old story, I I'd discovered the stories, music, dance, and a sense of [joie de vivre] .

Okay, I'm done

       

I love the variety and full scope of this season. I never understood much of this as a kid, but when I was older
looked for the stories behind the stories, as it were, I discovered an incredibly rich and varied assortment of
folklore and history that lies deep below
the modern emphasis on onlythree aspects -- the
religious saga (open to all sorts of interpretation and symbolism), the emphasis on one day only, and the cultural emphasis on commercial activity (which I call "all marketing, all the time"). All of these can then negatively affect
families, where societal pressure can overwhelm any sensitive person's well-being.

Okay -- but I always suspected there was more to the whole picture, and as a kid I came to regard it as the season where hypocrisy was the big story. Once I got older, and actually fell into a career involving folklore (myth, history, and culture) I found an incredibly rich and diverse tapestry of music, art, agricultural activities (now mostly out of sight and mind), good intentions (sticky); but also fun stuff impossible to fully hide behind the commercial frenzies.

For one thing the season is long, as it ties together events all the way from Samhain (ancient Celtic new year), All Saints/Halloween (end of October and end of harvest season), followed by numerous "saint's days" such as St. Nicholas (Dec. 6) and my personal favourite, Santa Lucia (Dec 13), then on to a slew of days around solstice time and the adopted date of Christmas, followed by such observances as the Feast of Fools (another fave), New Year's, and not concluding 'til Twelfth Night (Jan 6). It's also about that time when preps for the next planting/harvest cycle get underway. Lots of details in the meantime.

There's literally so much to the whole season as to be impossible to summarize adequately here. But that's number one for me -- just the sheer magnitude of the full season, not just the one big day emphasized now.

Along the way, there's great music (especially in the folk/classical genres), artistic expession (plays, art pieces), etc. There's groups that revive and note all of these activities (such as Christmas Revels in Boston, USA)  which have survived and seek to revive much of what has been obscured.

My own favorite observance involves the Santa Lucia observances, especially as they survive in Italy but which are more prominent in Sweden with its emphasis heavy on light's return to the darkening world. It's import to me is deeply personal  and involves a significant part of my therapy experience just a few years ago, a time of incredible darkness for me. This isn't the place for details, but it is one way the 'season' became even more relevant for me.

With that, I'll leave off with the revived expression I like -- Happy Yule! And add -- keep looking for the stories behind the stories. They may be buried in mystery and claimed by many, but they're lots of fun, add needed whimsy and relevance when one looks for it.

Seems I did forget one thing I do sometimes, not just for dissociation but for other stressors that seem to threaten my equilibrium.

Call it a mantra or something like it. It's at least short and easy to remember when needed. Let's say I might sense some threat or imminent trigger arising, I repeat to myself (silently), on each intake of breath -- the word "Peace"; and on the outtake the word "Love" (or I switch the order, but get those two words going in my mind. That can settle me down, when I feel I might be on the edge of dissociating 'out of the zone', as it were.

Anyway, that's one thing that I've found lessens my overwhelm. I still might dissociate, but the mantra, said silently to myself, seems to lessen the entire plunge into anything truly hurtul to myself in the moment.

The only 'rule' that seems relevant to me is to go easy on oneself. I know I often would fall into these 'spells' in order to survive some of the heavy stuff memories from my early days can trigger. Sometimes I wished I could have retained more dissociative instincts, not less, as lots of heavy stuff (especially emotional) occurred when I was much older.

So my dissociation still rears up when I'm relating to the early innocent abuse days. Describing those times can be treacherous and I find myself slipping if it seems I'm entering that set of memories, and begin to feel trapped, and ... automatically dissociate (in a variety of ways, sometimes almost blacking out).

Now I at least recognize this better. Why? Once during a therapy session, I realized I'd missed my therapist's response to some info I'd presented. Starting to apologize for missing what she'd said in response, my T in a very calm manner explained that there's nothing wrong with dissociation, even when it seems to interfere with the flow of the moment. She pointed out that I'd responded appropriately, given what was being triggered in my psyche. The important thing, she noted, was that I recognized it just after its occurrence.

Recognition helped, as did her calm response, pointing out that dissociation isn't a fault of mine, at all. Now the hard part -- what to do down the line?

For me, there hasn't been a magic formula. But at least I came to accept that I'm not unhealthy to have responded this way. Rather than specifically focusing on it, though, I find that her overall acceptance of my dissociation allowed me the space to stop treating it as a huge obstacle preventing my ever  progressing. But by letting the inner hysteria overtake me when I'd feel dissociative with her or others, just recognizing the self-blame helped the most.

I finally began to see that dissociation wasn't indicative of any failure on my part. With that realization, I've slowly been able to incorporate even some of the worst abuse triggers down to tolerable levels ('tolerable' as I don't see how they'd ever totally recede).

I feel like I've been unable to lay down any solid advice on this -- everyone's probs can be vastly different. Basically my only message is to 1) be kind to yourself and 2) keep on keeping on.   

RedJenty ... greetings to a place where you can unwind some of the tension, still have doubts, and still feel welcome and OK with yourself.

While that may make us sound uniform, it's hardly the case. Lots of personalities and experiences here; and some might big crashes too.

But know what? We've all somehow wandered back here, too; sometimes it's the last haven of sanity left, where it's even allowed to spit out those overwhelming sad, angry, and unbearable emotions. And -- wonder of wonders -- be understood!

I hope you feel a bit safer to have found this place. Lots of us have been where you're coming from --  Still traveling, hoping, resilient.

Thanks for posting this, Tofu+.

The site tends to stay away from declaring its wide-ranging topics as absolute truth. Rather, it's an interesting assortment veering towards  a range of topics such as different philosophies that speak more to discovery about possibilities instead of promising recovery from one's troubles (they're so individual).

Less prescriptive than many psychological sites tend to be, just make sure your brain is turned on, and as I read somewhere the other day, open your mind but don't let your brain fall out. In other words, discernment helps the ride with whatever rough spots remain or crop up along the journey. As de Botton explains his approach, it starts with accepting that our life isn't perfect, whichh makes it even more worthwhile to explore, be curious, and live from where your heart draws you.

Along this journey, to be able to find your way through to your own peace with awareness and grace has been impressive. Thank you for sharing, with raw frankness, the intensity of what you've gone through.

May you continue to find your way forward.