Jane's Recovery Journal - Take 2

[writetolife]

Let's try this again, shall we?

[writetolife]

Therapy was hard today. I cried like crazy. I don't like to cry in there, but I don't know why. It's not like my therapist reacts badly, but I don't really like crying at all, to be honest. I fight so hard not to be a crier, but I really am. I just try not to let other people see it when I cry.

I told her about something I hadn't told anyone, the fact that I almost, very nearly almost, killed myself when I was a teenager. I told her because work had triggered a pretty intense flashback to it, the kind of flashback that made it impossible to focus on what was in front of me, the kind that left me shaking for over an hour. I'm a writing tutor and sometimes students bring me writings about difficult things, like, for instance, their father having committed suicide.

And my T did something she had never done before, so that I could stay calm enough to "process" the trauma. That was her word, of course. "Process" seems like a strange word to use with trauma. It sounds too much like meat. Throw some bad memories, a whole lotta fear, and a few years worth of flashbacks into a meat grinder, and you get pepperoni out the other side?

Anyway, what she did was stop me and have me ground every time my anxiety level got high (which was really often, sometimes every five minutes while I was talking). Then, when my anxiety level was lower, she'd let me go back to talking. She said that it would prevent me from getting retraumatized, which I sort of understand, and sort of don't. But I only sort of understand traumatization, but kind of don't either because it feels like the very essence of my life. I don't remember what it's like to live a life not driven by the fear caused by traumatic abuse. I'm not sure I ever knew. And if you define trauma as something different than normal, safe living, then I have no idea how to do that. I've only been out of the abuse for a month and a half, after 26 years of thinking it was basically normal.

I'm not really sure what I learned. No wait. T said something really important. She told me that it made a lot of sense that I had been suicidal as a teenager. I was up to my eyeballs in a deeper abusive environment that I didn't realize was abusive, trying to be strong for my two very ill parents - knowing that my father could die - and I felt totally alone. She said it made sense that I felt that way; many people would have. Many people in that position and others do commit suicide. That helps take the shame and fear out of the memory. Having been there doesn't mean I was a failure. Or weak. And heavens knows I have felt so much like I was weak for it. I always felt over dramatic. I didn't realize that I was experiencing deep trauma and abuse, so I didn't understand why I was reacting incredibly strongly.

So, after therapy I feel like I've been run over by a mac truck, but I also feel a little relieved - like I have one fewer thing to carry.

[Three Roses]

 

[Elphanigh]

Therapy was hard today. I cried like crazy. I don't like to cry in there, but I don't know why. It's not like my therapist reacts badly, but I don't really like crying at all, to be honest. I fight so hard not to be a crier, but I really am. I just try not to let other people see it when I cry.

First, I would like to say me too. You are definitely not alone in this, I am glad that you did cry though it is important to release that emotion. Even if we hate it. Your long abusive past sounds similar to mine as well. I understand going through abuse for most of your life. I am so glad you made it through so much. You deserve so much peace and support. I hope you can find some of that here.

Your T sounds spectacular, she did exactly what you needed. My therapist has to watch me closely as well, and does that for me when I need it. If you go too far into anxiety you hit crisis mode which causes more trauma. That is why she is doing that.

I hope tonight is going a little better. I am right here siting with you on this journey.

[sanmagic7]

writetolife, i'm glad to hear about those tears, too.  i believe there are different kinds of tears (i cry a lot myself - cried at the doc's office yesterday for no other reason than they were kind and caring and everything was so clean, not at all like my experience in mexico (the clean and bright part, especially) and that some of them are for joy, some for relief, some for release of tension, some for getting the poison of the abuse and stress out of our systems.  there may be more kinds, those are the 4 that come to my mind.

holding that gunk in is what will eventually make us sick.  i stopped crying when i was in my early teens, didn't cry again till i was 38 and began therapy.  i haven't stopped.  there's no shame in tears, no shame in what you almost did when you were in your teens (i was in that place when pregnant with my first child after my hub left me).  the abuse and stress of trauma can be overwhelming, too much to bear for some.  many of us haven't made it, not out of weakness, but they saw no other way - the pain was too great.

but, you did,  you found a strength and courage to keep going in the midst of the madness.  my heart is with us all, those who both did and didn't make it.  being overwhelmed by this stuff . . . well, i'm surprised at how many of us were able to get out from under. 

i also think your t did a great job with keeping you grounded so you wouldn't get into the memories too deeply.  it's important to go slow with this stuff - it's not to be underestimated.  well done.   

[writetolife]

Thank you all for the support.  I appreciate it more than I know how to say. 

I appreciate the support about the tears.  I totally see what you're saying.  Tears are totally necessary sometimes.  They're also crazy frustrating, especially since my tears seemed to egg my abuser on.  He tried to tell me that my tears were just about manipulating him.  So now I'm a little bit...ermm...paranoid about people thinking that I'm trying to get a reaction out of them. 

[writetolife]

I've been learning a new sense of intrusive thoughts.  Or at least I think that's what they are.  T calls it that when thoughts that I don't want keep pushing in on me.  Thoughts of my Grandma (who I slowly and painfully watched die over a couple months) are coming at the weirdest times.  For example, today while I was washing a wooden spoon.  A couple of days ago, I was praying and all of the sudden I had a very detailed flash of an image of the second portable CD player I used on all of those long trips.  I'm not sure how I knew it was about her.  There just wasn't any doubt.  It was part of the flash.

Since talking Friday with T about my strong reaction to suicide, thoughts of that haven't been far.  More often than that, they come when I'm alone with my thoughts.  I've wanted to think about them.  Even though they freak me out a little bit.  I'm wanting to watch YouTube videos (though the lack of Internet connection prevents me.)  It's frustrating to be pulled about in this manner, and a tad bit disturbing.  Though not as much as it once was, since I now know that it's normal for someone with PTSD.  It's a more, not common, maybe commonly known about, version of PTSD.  I knew that once I started to get safe my past would start rearing its ugly head in more direct ways.  I didn't think I was feel safe enough for that yet.  But perhaps I am.  I sleep better here.  I'm more willing to take chances in doing things that might not work out.  I'm braver and more willing just to think, "the worst that can happen is that someone yells at me," which is something I never would have thought before.  Because yelling at me would be one of the worst possibilities. 

It isn't fun, though, the intrusive thoughts, the flashbacks.  It isn't glamorous, and people don't come running to your aid because, actually, no one knows its happening.  No one feels startled with me.  People don't seem to understand the way the past and the present can sometimes become so muddled that they're practically indistinguishable.  But most of the time that's just life.  And most of the time I don't complain.  In fact, there are parts of it that I can scarcely remember life without, so I guess it doesn't matter.  I have learned now that things really can change, but, heaven's sake, the process can be painful.   

Update:  Thank goodness these thoughts have been chilling out a lot.

[sanmagic7]

i hear ya on the painful part, writetolife,  it can definitely be a gritch that tears at you, not in a damaging way, but it does hurt.  i don't know why that is sometimes, having such things as realizations hurt so much.  it's like it hurts more to remember than the actual fact when it was happening.  maybe that was our protective shields at the time, preventing us from going under.

like you said, starting to feel safe and those thoughts begin to intrude.  i think sometimes it might be that we've been able to slow down enough for them to catch up to us.  we've been running from them for so long in so many ways, that when we are able to finally slow down or stop for a minute, they pile up against us at last. 

whatever it is, i've had the same kind of thing happen.    it can feel overwhelming at times, and i want to process all of it at once, get it over and done with.  i've been told that's the time to go slow, pace myself.  sometimes that's the hardest part of all, especially when it gets muddled together with the now.  i'm just glad they're beginning to slow up a bit for you.    big hug!

[writetolife]

Goodness yes.  Thank you.

[writetolife]

I went to bed feeling that way and woke up feeling that way, even though I slept for 10 hours.  I'm still exhausted and panicky. The last few months my hypervigilance and startle response had calmed down a great deal.  As the flashbacks have been ramping up, so have they.  Not only is my brain throwing flashbacks at me, but regular memories out of the blue.  They don't pull me backward the way flashbacks do, but they're disorienting because I don't understand where they're coming from or why they're significant.  They're random flashes of things that seem utterly unconnected to my life and well...completely pointless in general.  And then many of them, I lose right away.  I know they've happened, but not what they were about. 

I just want to be able to stay in approximately the present.  All of this is really exhausting and distracting and it kind of makes me freeze up and dissociate, which isn't particularly useful, especially at work when I have to think.  And I also don't feel like there's anyone in my regular, everyday life that I can share it with, so I feel really alone.  I know that I'm not going crazy, but I feel a little bit like I am, even though I also feel like I'm being melodramatic.     

Goodness sakes, this could be a long day, and I don't want to face work that starts in 25 minutes because I don't think I have any professionalism or bubbliness in me. 

[clarity]

I hope work goes better than expected...its soooo hard to dredge up the energy for all that when youre in EF. 

No you are not being melodramatic! That old chestnut...I know it well. How we downplay our pain and needs.  Helps me to remember its the child who feels and reaches out for help....and that I need to respond to her with compassion and reliability so she can learn to trust me... as I am really the only one here for her most of the time.  Well of course also....now there is OOTS too!!

Hugs to you... 

[writetolife]

I guess it could be an EF, couldn't it?  It's definitely different than previous ones I've had, though.

[clarity]

I try to remember that healing is messy and ugly from the outside looking on...ie: as we observe and experience cptsd consciously we are only able to know a part of what is happening. ( for me it is a HEALING process not a disorder or disease)  Like a cut to the skin...that gets red, itchy, swollen, crusty as it mends...ugh looks gross....but a miracle is occurring... and I believe healing is the same in our psyche.... all these symptoms but we have to look past them somehow and trust that life and love and our truest soul selves know exactly what they are doing.  Another metaphor....clearing out the closet...halfway through it is utter chaos!!!  Maybe thats what all the memories popping up are.....true self rootling through the closet of your heart and mind and flinging them about, sorting what is a keeper, what is mouldy and needs to go in the trash....  where the answers are, hidden somewhere in there at the back...