Living As All of Me

[HannahOne]

Marcine, TheBigBlue, NarKiddo, Kizzie, Chart, SanMagic7 Thank you so much for commenting and the encouragement.

I have not and will not share what the forum is with anyone. I want privacy. Even from the therapist. But I did tell her I have found a group of people who've been through similar as me, raised by various types of wolves. And that it's the most healing thing just to find them. Just to not have to pretend to be "normal" or that nothing is or ever was wrong, to be able to tell it like it is, keep it real. She was shocked at first as I don't share with anyone... and it was a happy moment. Thank you all.

Chart, love does not disappear. Thank you.

the BigBlue, yes that's it! I could rest because I was seen. And yes---the doctor not arguing with me! I swear. There's a meme I saw once, "Your one day of learning about my disease in med school doesn't compare to my fifty years living with it" and in the case of most doctors that's the case about more rare diseases, unless they specialize in it. Let alone how little most learn about menopause!

NarcKiddo, thank you for reminding me what we all deserve.

Thank you Marcine!  Your support means so much.

SanMagic7, I hope such a doctor appears for you. We need a database of trauma-aware doctors all around the US Canada and the world, we can crowd source a google doc!

Kizzie, thank you so much for your advocacy. This is essential! Today at the oncologist he wanted to do an exam. And clearly the note in the medical record worked because he said, "What can I do to make the exam more tolerable?" He handed me a list. A printed card! The nurse would be in the room. I could choose my level of recline, have him describe what was happening or not speak during, have the nurse wherever I wanted, hold a squish ball or not... It was extremely brief exam and I forget the other options. To be honest none of the options helped and seemed a bit silly, but what helped was HAVING OPTIONS. And having a mutual understanding that there was a "thing," there was a trauma, there was an issue so that I didn't have to hide it, I didn't have to "act normal" so he wouldn't know I have CPTSD. For me that is the most triggering part is having to act like there is no trigger. Is that weird? Having it be acknowledged between us with the list paradoxically allowed me to act perfectly "normal," I had zero symptoms of PTSD in the moment and the exam was a nothingburger. HOORAY!!!

I'm sure it helped that I wore loafers and a fabulous blazer with pockets aligned diagonally, with silk pants in a muddy khaki. The receptionist had on a cowprint skirt. "I love the skirt!" I said. She lit up. She had seen it on an influencer, then found it in a Marshall's the same day. What a coincidence. "Cow print is in, but I'm not so bold," I told her. "And the turban!" I said. "Pop of color!" she said, touching the hot pink head wrap. As I got on the elevator she called, "I love your bag!" I looked down, ah yes the zebra print bag! I have animal print too! Just in my hand and not wrapped around my hips. May I soon be so bold as to wear it on my hips. Clothes continue to be a way to connect with others and myself, help me show up as the middle aged person I am, in all my complexity, gifts, wounds, hopes and fears.

[HannahOne]

I was due for some good luck. I'm so glad I found the primary care doctor just when it did and will have help to navigate all this.  Overall excellent news from oncologist. Of course, I'm saddened and fearful of the medication I'll be taking and I am feeling punished, like "doom fulfilled," a sense of foreclosure and grief, "I knew it, I wouldn't get away without suffering more, I deserve this." "My life will be ruined."

But that is really premature, I may do fine on the treatment. It's just the brush with mortality even though again I am assured I will not die of this. Getting older is strange, as inside parts of me still feel so so young, almost like I haven't even started my life---and now it's more than half over, and I'm having to balance complicated medical issues that oppose each other. Parts of me are very upset, disappointed, feel I haven't begun yet, I've spent most of my life just trying to survive, and then to recover.... I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up yet and it's almost time to retire, or I'm going to be medically retired the rest of the way shortly.... ah well, I am officially old. Maybe I've worked enough. Maybe there is yet time to begin again. It's a new thing to begin to focus most of my energy on myself, what I feel, need. I am going to work through it.

I have to remind myself my age, that it's ok to be this age, it's ok to not be perfectly well, it's ok to need medicines, or a diet, or exercise, or more self care, to have to focus on being well and not on getting stuff done. I've done plenty, I did much of what I wanted to do. And while parts of me feel they haven't gotten to live yet, I have lived a very full life. One of the benefits of CPTSD is I had a foreshortened sense of the future and so I really did live in the moment, I never thought I'd live past 30, let alone 40.... I traveled when I wanted to, I quit jobs when I Wanted to, I made babies and stayed home with them when I wanted to, I worked with animals when it didn't pay, I made art, I wrote poetry, I sat under trees when I should've been putting green into my 401k. It's how I survived, to balance out the pain I sought joy, presence, nature, beasts, babies, art. And so I don't have regrets on that score. I have some feelings about the limits of what I accomplished, but that's part of the tradeoff, I made a lot less money than I planned to or expected, I left behind certain ambitions to pursue what I thought was more important, and I don't think I judged wrongly. It's just you cannot have it all. I loved what I've had. I hope to get more of it, to be well enough to enjoy, travel, be present at the kitchen sink and in the barn.

Meanwhile I have to get a bunch of scans and tests done to decide exactly which treatment would be least problematic. I am so relieved to have a primary to steer this ship. I am so glad my chart now says "medical trauma." I feel like I'm going to be able to do it. I feel some dread. But I don't feel like I need to disappear and hide from the appointments.

I'm so tired. Tomorrow more PT for the torn knee ligament. I am hoping to get much stronger in the months ahead. I am planning a trip to California to some national parks and hope to hike and tent camp with my sibling assuming I feel well enough---but it won't be the knee that stops me. It would be so healing to be outside. I have about 7 weeks to get my knee back to snuff. I packed my suitcase tonight. Wool, wool, and wool, a metal spork. I am glad I can still plan to go. This is what I live for. Moving through nature, I especially love the desert. you can see for miles and miles. The red or yellow rocks are sculptural and shape the blue air differently than anywhere else. And around them little green scrubby leaves. Everything there is hardy and living on the edge, living on the bare minimum, not flowering or leafing one iota more than necessary yet showing up fully. May I thrive similarly in my oasis, where there's water plenty now. Now sleep.