Fear Thou Not; For I Am With Thee (7-8 minute read)

As you know it’s been quite awhile since I last wrote a blog post, and I’m not sure why. It could have been the state of mind I was in when I wrote my last blog because my mother had just died and I had a lot to think about. Or the fact that since the world went crazy in 2020, time seems to have sped up, and I can’t seem to find enough time in a day to complete the tasks I set out for myself. All I do know is that my life has changed exponentially, and all for the better. The best part about the change, is that I no longer live my life in fear – of anything, but in order to tell you why, or how, I have to go back in time to approximately a week before my mother died in July of 2022.

Are you ready, because it’s quite the roller coaster ride, but in a really good way.

Back in 2021, when my husband, Gary and I moved to New Brunswick, Canada, we kept passing an abandoned house when we’d go to Fredericton; one of the major cities in New Brunswick. It’s an old Victorian house; yellow in colour and it’s tucked away in the woods looking cozy, for lack of a better word. I’m not really sure why Gary and I were drawn to it, but we were. Everytime we passed it, we wondered who it belonged to and if it was truly abandoned, or just empty because of covid.

Then on June 17, 2022, Gary came home from shopping in Fredericton and said, “You’re never going to believe it, but there’s a car in the driveway at the yellow house.” I turned to him with the biggest smile on my face and said to him, “Let’s go and introduce ourselves.

The next morning, we finished our breakfast and headed out; without any trepidation. When we got there, we parked at the bottom of the driveway, and as we started walking through the trees, I jokingly said to Gary, “I hope they don’t have a big dog,” whilst in fact, I was thinking – what if they were axe murderers?!

…but we kept walking, and when we got to the porch, I walked straight up onto the porch, again without hesitation and knocked on the door. After about 30 seconds, the door was opened by this tall attractive man, with dark hair and the most radiant smile, we’ll call him Craig. He looked at both of us and said, “Good morning, we were just about to have coffee, come on in.” Again, there was no reluctance on my part, and I’m not sure why because as you know, I used to be very leery with strangers, but I soon found out that there was a greater power at work.

We followed Craig down a long hallway into a huge kitchen where his girlfriend; Sonya, and an older gentleman; Jake, sitting at the kitchen table. They were just as friendly as Craig and told us to make ourselves at home, which we did. Then after introducing ourselves to each other, we fell into a conversation which was more akin to a conversation amongst long lost friends, not total strangers.

Hours went by as we became better acquainted, and Craig mentioned that he needed to find an internet signal somewhere because he needed to reach out to his family. Craig, Jame’s, and Sonya were only going to be at the house for a week or two and didn’t have internet access. Needless to say, Gary and I told them to come and use ours, so we all piled into our car and headed to our place which was only five minutes down the road.

Not long after we got to our house, Jake started talking about faith, as well as his belief in God, and then Craig and Sonya followed. As you know, I had always felt abandoned by God because of my past, but I listened to what they had to say, especially Jake, because he had some great stories about how God had helped him - throughout his life. As Gary and I listened, we walked around our property, and at some point, the conversation became about me and Jake stopped walking and out of nowhere said, “I believe you struggle with forgiveness, and I’m wondering who it is that you are having the most difficulty forgiving.”

…Tears began streaming down my face before I could deny what Jake had said, and I couldn’t hold them back. I have been working on getting past my past, for decades, but forgiveness is something I have always struggled with, even though I knew that unforgiveness was hurting me. I also knew that if I didn’t forgive my abusers, it would be hard to get beyond my past and move on. Yet, here was this stranger telling me what was holding me back, and I felt in that moment that I needed to put an end to it, but I didn’t know where to start.

Jake said that I needed to send cards to everyone telling them that I forgave them for how they treated me and send them in the mail. I got started straight away and while I was writing out the card for my mother, my brother called me and told me that our mother wasn’t well. I told him to tell her that I was writing a card to her telling her that I forgave her, and he said, “Are you really?” I told him yes and he asked me if I would go on Facetime and tell her what I just told him and again, I said yes. (I talk about it in this blog: https://www.davinalytle.com/blog/2022/7/21/now-that-youre-gone-i-feel-regret-like-none-other-approx-4-5-minute-read )

The next day, I spoke to my mother on Facetime, and told her that I forgave her, but unfortunately, she was unresponsive, but my brother told me that she squeezed my daughter’s hand and she smiled at him. I truly believe that it was what she needed to move on from this world, because she died less than a hour later.

After she died, things really changed for me and I felt that there was a greater power at work in my life. I had always told people that I would never forgive her, but after her death, it was apparent to me that if I hadn’t forgiven her, I would have had a really hard time getting over it. Especially if I had let her go to the grave thinking that she wasn’t forgiven. She had claimed to be a Christian woman, ever since I was a little child, but I know in her last years, she became a faithful servant to the Lord.

In the weeks following her death, I felt gutted for so many reasons, and I beat myself up for months, but as time went by, I realized how important my forgiveness of her was to my wellbeing. Had I ignored the opportunity to set her free; as well as myself, I would have struggled for a long time, and the journey I’ve been on since that day would have been completely different. Instead, I questioned how and why I changed my mind about forgiving her and my thoughts brought me back to Jake, and why he came into my life for such a brief time (he went back to his home in Mexico and hasn’t been back since), and I Know now that it was God.

Yes, I said God and I know this testament might be hard for a lot of you to believe because in the past I’ve written about how I believed God abandoned me many years ago. Not only that, I use to tromp on anyone that mentioned God. Fortunately, now I know that it was me that abandoned God, and if I would have had Him in my life when I got held up that day; almost 19 years ago, I don’t think I would have felt the fear to move forward, and I know I never would have tried to take my life.

My life has changed immensely, and I thank God, everyday for helping me to walk the path I walk now. When I think about Him, my heart is so moved, that I can’t help but cry happy tears, because I know He has my back and if I start to struggle, I just let go, and let God. Isaiah 41:10 says, Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with thy right hand of righteousness. And because of Him, I am not afraid anymore - of anything.

Stay safe and stay strong.

*Some of the names have been changed

Now That You're Gone, I Feel Regret Like None Other... (approx. 4 -5 minute read)

I lost my mother two days ago, and I feel regret like none other.

It’s strange because I stopped calling her mom, a long time ago. Instead, I’ve called her Gladys; the name her parents gave her, when ever I’ve talked about her. I did it because she hated the name; so much so, that she changed her name legally to Elizabeth decades ago. Up until her death, I never thought about why my mother changed her name, but I’ve realized over the last few days that it was her mother’s name, and she had the same dislike for her mother, as I had for mine, and that’s probably why she did it.

There are so many thoughts running around my head right now. My brain feels like it’s a pile of mush and all I can think is why didn’t I try harder to fix our relationship instead of spending so much time hating her? Yes, she wasn’t the greatest mother, but she was also hurting inside. She was born while her father was away at war and because of an illness, her father wasn’t able to return until she was five years old, and that must have been rough on her, as well as her mother.

Another question I’m asking myself, is why I didn’t think about these things while she was alive? Instead, I only thought about how broken I was and the lack of help I got from her and my father, but now I’m left feeling absolutely gutted. Devastated that I never got to understand why she treated me the way she did, as well as the fact that we didn’t forgive each other until she was on her death bed.

You (my readers) know I was angry with her because of a blog I wrote a blog to her in 2017, called, “Don’t you Worry Your Pretty Little Head,” but now all I feel is shame and regret for what I said. As I wrote that last sentence, Gary, my husband just came into the room. I was crying and he reminded me that all she ever did was spit nails at me, and if she wasn’t sick, she would have still been spitting nails, but all I can think about is, why we couldn’t have worked things out?! I knew from all my research, that abusers come from abused families, so she was dealing with her own demons, but up until the last few days, I couldn’t see past the end of my nose. I felt like she hated me because she definitely said a lot of nasty things about me, but as my brother stated yesterday, we were both pigheaded…and that we were. And I know I haven’t mentioned my brother up until this point because we were also estranged, but he recently came back into my life, after 6+ years. He and I had been told lies about each other and instead of reaching out to find out the truth, we just ignored and blamed each other. Then he came out of nowhere six months ago, and the first thing he tried to do was get my mother and I back together. He told me she was really sick and she only wanted my forgiveness; that she really did love me. Unfortunately, all I spewed back at him was nastiness, and told him that if he showed up to my property with her in the car, I would make him leave.

Honestly, when I look back on some of the things I said about her, I’m ashamed. Especially when I see how much my oldest daughter’s heart is hurting over the loss of her Nana because my mother was always there for her. They had a relationship anyone would be envious of, and the pain my daughter feels in her heart at this moment, makes me realize that she did have love in her heart, and a lot of it.

Regrettably, when I think about it now (as my mother is being cremated), I feel like it was my fault for being so “pigheaded.” I always thought that if she truly wanted me back in her life, she would have reached out, and she could have because I never changed my cell number, or my email address; in hopes that she would reach out…but she never did, so I never did. Now, I’ll never get the chance to change things or figure out how to make things right, but I will take solace in the fact that we were able to tell each other we forgave each other before she left this world.

If there is someone in your life that you are being “pigheaded” about, I believe you should ask yourself how you would feel if they left this world without you being able to say what needs to be said? I think you may be surprised at the compassion that enters your heart because I am. Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

New Beginnings (approx. 3-3 ½ minute read)

Hello, everyone! I know, I know it’s been a while, but you’re not going to believe what has been going on in my life since I did my book interview for “Daily Wisdom Words,” August 8, 2021 (aired on August 14, 2022). I’ve been on such an incredible high that I can barely contain my happiness…and I would have told you all sooner, but I was afraid that if I talked about it, I might jynx it.

S0, are you ready to hear my life changing news? Drum roll please and make it loud…

MY OLDEST DAUGHTER REACHED OUT TO ME!!!

Isn’t that awesome?! There is hope for all of us, my fellow warriors, because as you know, my family stopped talking to me ages ago, but her reaching out after such a long time, meant that at least one of them no longer believed the lies they had been told by my parents.

The text came through just after I had just finished my interview with Maureen O’Dea and Neel Trivedi and I was feeling stronger than I had since my PTSD diagnosis, almost 17 years ago. During my interview they asked me if I felt like I was in a good place and I told them that I felt stronger than I had ever felt before and it was true. In that moment, I believed that if any of the people I’d distanced myself from came back into my life, I’d be able to converse with them. I knew that writing my book and sharing my story had helped me to become strong enough that I would never back down that particular rabbit hole – ever again.

As a result, I was sitting in our living room having a glass of champagne with my husband, Gary, feeling quite confident. We were discussing the questions Neel, and Maureen asked me, as well as how I had answered them, when my phone went off. I picked it up to look at who had sent me a text when I saw that it was a text from my daughter. I turned to Gary and told him who it was and he said, “What?” I repeated what I had said, and then my hands started to shake. I had tried to reach out to her, as well as my youngest daughter with cards, texts and phone calls for over 3 years, but this was the first contact from either of them and I was nervous to read what it said.

As I scanned the message, I started to cry – not sad tears, but happy tears, because she said that she missed Gary and I and that she didn’t know where our relationship was going to go, but she was no longer going to let other people dictate who she allowed in her life, especially me. I immediately texted her back, and within an hour, we were talking on the phone, getting caught up. We sent each other pictures and before we knew it, we were planning a trip back to Ontario to see them.

Fast forward to today and life is better than I ever thought it would turn out. Gary and I have been back and forth to Ontario a few times and my daughter and her family have been to visit us once. Tomorrow they are arriving for their second visit and here is where I need a second drum roll…

They are moving here! They sold their house and they are using their holidays to meet with some builders, because they’re moving on to our property the beginning of August (2022). We have a small hobby farm and we believe we can make a sustainable life here, together.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

P.S. Stay tuned to hear about how my younger brother reached out to me as well and how he will also be part of my family again, because him and his girlfriend purchased a property 13 minutes away, so that he “could be closer to his big sister.”

This Anniversary I'm Celebrating "Alive" Day Instead of Having a Pity Party! (approx. 4-5 min. read)

When I first started writing blogs 6 years ago, I barely went out and when I did go out, I was filled with fear and anxiety, even if it was just to go out into my yard. Today, nearly 16 years from when I got held up, I still feel the fear, but I’ve learned how to talk myself through the fear and I truly believe you can as well. You’re going to need patience because at times, it’s going to feel like it’s taking a lifetime, and there may be times that you’re afraid you’re never going to enjoy your life, but once you get there, it’s going to feel surreal, because that’s the way it feels for me. If you’ve been reading along you know that these last 6 years have seemed like 20, but everything I did contributed to the way I feel today. And every time I stepped outside my comfort zone, I became one step closer to living authentically, the life we are all meant to live.

The first step I took towards healing was when I started writing my book about living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I was told by the first editor I spoke to, that I needed to create a media platform to see if anyone would be interested in reading what I had to say. I honestly wasn’t sure what she meant, but here’s one of the definitions I found:

“Media platforms are technologies and standards that allow writers or other media ‘producers’ and readers and other ‘consumers’ of media to interface more efficiently… Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, etc., are platforms that connect disparate media creators and curators with consumers of that media.”

For those of you that have been following, you know that creating a platform on social media was incredibly difficult because up until that point in my life, I’d hidden behind a picture of mine and my husband’s feet in a hot tub. My face wasn’t anywhere to be found because I was terrified that my abusers, as well as the man that had held me up, would be able to find me if I put myself out there. Fortunately, I found the courage to be seen because opening a Twitter account and creating a following of other mental health advocates and warriors ended up being one of the things that started my healing journey.

Since that day, I have changed and it’s in a really good way because not only am I the most confident I’ve ever been, I don’t feel fear anymore. Sure, I still have triggers, and with PTSD I know I always will, but with therapy a lot of the triggers that used to incapacitate me, hardly even faze me now. I used to believe that therapy was a waste of time and that all it did was torment me, but I was wrong. Once I went back and started working through my traumas, everything started to change for me, even though those changes were subtle. In fact, there were dozens of different things that happened that I didn’t realize were helping me but once I started looking back, consciously to see when the change/s happened, I could see them clearly. And I know I’ve spoken about this in my book, as well as in my blogs, but I’m saying it again because there’s an important step, I want you to take while traveling down your path to healing.

Are you ready to know what that is?

From this date forward, I want you to celebrate all your milestones, no matter how small they are. You got up this morning – awesome! You got a shower – even better, and if you managed to go and pick up a loaf of bread, or a bag of milk, I hope you treat yourself to something special. Doing these things are huge steps for someone dealing with PTSD and they’re all important steps on your road to healing. Not only do I want you to celebrate your milestones, but I also want you to celebrate something else. It’s what the military call their “Alive,” day; the day they have a brush with death and it knocks them sideways.

If you’re a survivor you know that being knocked sideways doesn’t just occur to veterans or first responders it can also occur to someone like you and I. All it takes are a traumatic event like a serious accident, being raped or sexually assaulted, being bullied, or losing someone close to you. Whatever the reason, it’s a close encounter with death which changes us forever, and I believe the military is right; it should be celebrated because it’s an awakening for us to start our journey towards healing. Now don’t get me wrong…I know that when it’s happening it doesn’t feel like anything positive but standing on this side of my traumas have made me realize that that’s what it is. So, starting on August 9th of 2021, instead of hiding under a blanket on what I used to call “The day that ended my life,” I’m going to start celebrating it is the beginning of my life.

Stay safe, and stay strong, and remember to leave a comment letting me know how you are going to celebrate your “Alive,” day. Thanks for following.

https://digiday.com/media/many-definitions-term-platform/

https://www.infobloom.com/what-is-an-alive-day.htm

Finding Your Way Out of the Proverbial Loop. (approx. 3-4 minute read)

Hello fellow warriors, how the heck are you? I know it’s been a (long) time since I’ve written a blog and it’s not because I haven’t been writing, because I have, I honestly never stop. The reason is that I haven’t been writing much about PTSD since I finished my book, instead, I’ve mostly been writing and doing research on covid because nothing about covid seems to add up…especially the numbers…but let’s get back to why I haven’t written lately.

I started writing weekly blogs in 2015 and I continued publishing weekly blogs until around April of 2018, and then I started to taper off. If you’ve been around since I started, you know that I wrote weekly blogs on how I was dealing with PTSD, as well as the way people like me are treated by the outside world. Then when we began building our previous house in May of 2018, my blogs started to taper off. Not just because I was busy helping Gary, my husband, complete the build, but because I was working on my first book, as well as dealing with a diagnosis of Lyme disease at the same time.

Fast forward to today and I’m reminded of a scene in my favorite Christmas movie, “A Christmas Carol,” by Charles Dickens and it has to be the version with Alistair Sim playing Scrooge. It’s the first version I ever saw and I was around the age of 3, so to me, it’s the only version. In this scene, Scrooge has just gotten a glimpse of his gravestone, and he’s absolutely crushed. He lies down on the ground, throws his arms around the legs of the last of the three spirits, and says, over and over, “I’m not the man I was, I’m not the man I was.” And I’m reminded of this particular scene because I’m not the person I was at just about any point in my previous life…in fact, I’m so different from that person, and each day seems to be like a new beginning for me. I’m confident, I’m stronger than I’ve ever felt and for the first time ever, I don’t feel fear towards anyone or anything. I still get triggers, I always will, but when I do get them, they just feel like a bump in the road, a tiny glitch.

Becoming this new and (I believe), improved version of myself was really slow in happening, and at times, it felt like I was moving at a snail’s pace, especially the first ten years after my PTSD diagnosis. I felt that I pretty much went around in a loop; like an endless loop on a Nascar racetrack, but then when I started writing my book, and my blog, back in 2015, things started to change. As I already mentioned, these changes were slow and they were so subtle that at times, I felt as if I was moving backward. Fortunately, when I read through all the blogs I wrote over the last 6 years, I can clearly see when I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started working through my PTSD (You can really see the change in this blog, “Finding that One Thing.”)

Now I go out all the time without thinking about where I’m going because I just have this intense urge to get out and make up for the time I’ve lost. There is no fear around the thought of leaving my house or going anywhere and I believe that one of the most important things I did to help myself heal, was distancing myself from the people, places, and things that exacerbated my symptoms. Furthermore, I believe that if you, too, distance yourself from the things that exacerbate your symptoms it will help you start your path towards healing. This “Distancing,” doesn’t have to be forever, it just needs to be until you feel strong enough to be around those people, places, or things without compromising how you feel. Because when you’re constantly compromising how you feel and having to defend or the way you feel, healing will be that much harder.

It was hard to distance myself from my parents and most of their bio family, but after my older brother died 6 years ago, it felt like a necessity. Around that time, I had received a message from a friend of my older brothers to call the Ghana embassy because they’d found his body in a hotel room and they wanted my parents to go and claim his body. My parents didn’t want any part of their oldest son and told the embassy to keep his body; even though the Ghanaian government had told my parents he would be buried in a mass grave. This decision horrified me because not only was he left to be buried in a mass grave in a country where none of us could visit his grave, but it did nothing to help the rest of us get any closure because they never even had a funeral for him…and when I tried to write an obituary for my brother, I got slammed by my parents and their bio family.

Shortly after all of that happened, those same people started telling all kinds of lies and they turned a lot of people against me, including my children. Anyway, what is done is done. I would love to have my children back in my life, but as for the rest of the people that have wreaked havoc in my life…they can take a long walk off a short pier. I know my truths and opening up lines of communication with nay-sayers would put me back in that proverbial loop and I’ve become way too strong in my conviction to end up on that path again.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pG-zVSzHd4g

A Visitor From the Past. (approx. 5 - 5½ min. read)

Hello, fellow survivors!! As I mentioned last week, I started phase one of a peer support program for sexual abuse survivor’s at “The Gatehouse,” in Toronto, Ontario. Since we began, we’ve discussed topics such as anger, addiction, and triggers. This week: the sixth session, was the first of three sessions that focus entirely on our “Inner Child.” I looked over the entire program when we first received it, but I had forgotten about this part of it, and it caused just a wee bit of anxiety…was I going to be able to connect with her, or would she be evasive like she’s been with some of my memories?

Five days before this week’s session, the program director sent us an email asking us to bring a photo of ourselves, one that had been taken during our childhood. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with this photo, but I had no doubt which one I was going to choose; it had been given to me by my mother decades earlier. I never understood why she gave me something that I thought should have been a keepsake for her, but I put it in one of the middle drawers of my dresser, and pretty much forgot about it. When I went to get the photo in question, I realized there were some class photos, as well as a six-inch lock of my hair in the same envelope. I looked through the photos and then held up the lock of hair, remembering that it had been mine.

The tears started rolling down my cheeks because it reminded me of a traumatic incident that happened to me when I was quite young – maybe five? My mother had gotten angry with me for going outside and messing up my hair. It had gotten tangled while I was outside playing and when I whined while she was trying to brush it, she took a pair of scissors and cut off one of my pigtails just above my left ear. I was devastated because I had just started kindergarten and here, I was looking like a little boy with a really bad haircut, instead of a little girl.

I looked at the picture of me at least 10 times in the five days before this week’s group, and the more I looked at it, the more I realized how little I was. I was so young and vulnerable, and I didn’t deserve to be treated like I was less than human. The guilt and shame that I’d been living with for decades, should never have been directed at me - ever.

As I mentioned earlier, I’d already read part of this week’s material, so I was nervous when Monday came, and the group started. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been hiding from my inner child; for decades, and I knew that trying to connect with her might not be easy. Not only that, but survivors also don’t always connect the first time and I was afraid that would be me.

At the start of the meditation, the facilitator that was leading us through it told us to get comfortable, close our eyes and concentrate on the sound of her voice, and what she was saying. If you’ve never meditated before, you might find this difficult in the beginning, but I’ve been meditating for close to two years and I was able to open my mind completely. I listened to the facilitator’s voice gently guiding me towards my inner child:

…breathe in and out, slowly and deep into your belly.

…relax all the way down your back.

…allow your thoughts to become peaceful.

…go to a place where you felt safe as a child.

…when you have something make the image as clear as you can.

…now imagine your child self coming towards you…

I was getting to my safe place when I heard her say those last seven words, and as I heard them, my breathe caught in my throat. I could see her; me and as she walked towards me, I couldn’t hear the facilitator anymore, all I could hear was myself saying, you’re so small; you’re just a small child.

It was bright; so incredibly bright, almost like the little child walking towards me was an angel and the light was shining out of her. She slowly walked towards me and as she took my hand in hers, I could see that her face was beaming with joy. I asked her what she wanted from me and she told me that she just wanted to walk with me.

There was this bright light all around us, and it felt so good to be walking alongside her. We walked quietly, relishing in each other’s company, and when I asked her if she was tired from walking, she said yes. I then asked her if she wanted me to pick her up, and she nodded her head yes. I reached down and as I lifted her little body into my arms, I was reminded of how tiny she was. She reached up with both hands and stroked my hair before tucking her head under my chin and wrapping her arms around my neck. It felt so comforting to hold her, so I just stood there and rocked with her, telling her how much I loved her. We cried, but they were happy tears because we were so happy that we had finally reunited with one another. When I put her down, she held her hands out to me and when I reached out to see what she was giving to me, she very gently put a frog in my hand; smiled at me and skipped away.

The meditation was so profound, especially the frog because I’ve always loved frogs and I believe it was a way for my inner child to show me that she wants me to get in touch with that little girl and show her how to play and be happy. She also wants me to stop blaming myself because she said that it never had anything to do with me, and it was time I realized that and started living the life I deserve.

Stay safe, stay strong, and make sure you hug your inner child; regularly. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

https://thegatehouse.org/

Healing From Child Sexual Abuse. (approx. 5-6 min. read)

It’s been ages since I wrote a blog that I have published; I’ve written lots of them, but for some reason, I’m having trouble believing any of them are read-worthy. I’m not sure why I feel that way…it could be because someone criticized my writing and I took it to heart, but the true reason is that a counselor I trusted, had me open up a can of worms and then pretty much dumped me. And I know that sounds harsh, but that’s how it felt and still feels to me. 

It all started back in April of 2019 when I found a local women’s center and started doing sexual abuse therapy for the first time. I went to see the counselor; we’ll call her Nancy, once every two weeks. I felt I needed the time so that I could absorb and work on what we talked about in between our sessions, and it started off pretty well. The first few months I mostly talked about my parents and what our day-to-day life was like. I didn’t go into the sexual abuse, I stuck to how my mother threatened me to never tell anyone about what was going on in our house. Or how she would beat me on a day-to-day basis. I felt the rest of my abuse would eventually come out, but I’d never shared what truly happened to me while I was growing up. 

After a few sessions, Nancy gave me a book called, “Beginning to Heal,” by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis. It’s a revised edition of “The Courage to Heal,” and she told me that if anything struck a chord, I was supposed to allow myself to feel it. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do that, so I asked Nancy. She suggested that I stand in front of a mirror, look into my eyes, and tell myself that I was just a child, and I needed to say it until I started to believe it. 

When I got to the last chapter in the book, I started to cry, because the last story was similar to mine and the truth of it hit me really hard. I tried to ignore the advice of my counselor and choke it back because it was late at night and I didn’t want to wake my husband, but I finally got up and went into the washroom so I could do what Nancy told me to do. 

At first, it felt dumb and awkward, but I just kept staring at myself and saying, “You were just a child, you didn’t deserve what you got.” Then, after a few minutes, I found myself standing there with tears streaming down my face and finally starting to forgive my inner child for what I had always thought was somehow my fault. 

After I finished reading “Beginning to Heal,” Nancy said they were clearing out their library and asked me if I wanted to read the original; “The Courage to Heal.” She said it might help me to deal better with my sexual abuse but warned me that I needed to be doing the work alongside a counselor or therapist because it was going to get really intense. I started reading it, but not long after, Nancy had some family issues she needed to deal with and said she’d call me in a month or so. I continued reading the book while I waited, but she never called me back. I waited a month and a half and sent her a text and she said she was still dealing with a family crisis, but when we finally spoke on the phone, she said something about my life being so rough because I didn’t believe in God. 

This really upset me because as I’ve mentioned, my parents met in Church and my mother was still a Churchgoer when I was in my teens, and I didn’t trust the Church. I’d spent years (and years) begging God to protect me. I needed someone, anyone, to stop my abusers from using my body as a sexual vessel, as well as a punching bag. Not only that, I would plead him to release me from a locker that became my prison day after day, but no one answered – ever, and my abuse continued. So, Nancy’s comment felt like a betrayal, especially after I’d shared some of my deepest, darkest secrets with her. My knee-jerk reaction was to tell her I didn’t need her help anymore, which backfired, because all she said was, “That’s great! All the best!” Needless to say, I went down the proverbial rabbit hole and there was no one there to throw me the rope I needed so desperately to climb back out. 

Fast forward to today, which is close to a year since that comment, and I’ve finally found a resource that I know will help me out of the rabbit hole I ended up in and that is “The Gatehouse,” in Toronto, Ontario. They offer so many different programs for sexual abuse survivors and the first phase is a 15-week peer support program which I’m currently 5 weeks into. The first week I met the survivors that make up my group, I sat silently crying for most of it, and I say survivors because the facilitators are also survivors. I cried not because I was sad, but because I was overjoyed to be in the same space as other survivors! As I’ve mentioned since I started writing about living with PTSD, I believe that being with other survivors is essential in our healing journey. We don’t have to explain how we’re feeling, or why we’re reluctant to do anything that might trigger us. We never have to make excuses to each other about why we can’t go somewhere or be near a certain someone because we get it. We accept and understand each other for who we are, and that’s something very few people have ever given us. 

Since the first week, our group has discussed: the initial steps, from isolation to belonging, triggers (dissociation, flashbacks to groundings, anger and emotion regulation, and addictions and their relationship to abuse. So far, it’s brought up lots of memories; some of them pretty intense, and next week we’re going to start working on our inner child, but I’m totally okay with everything. Because I finally feel like I have a place where I can sit with the sisters I never had, sharing how difficult it has been for all of us to live our authentic lives…because others didn’t respect our space. I believe that together, survivors can help each other to heal from the tumultuous ride we were dealt as children and really begin living as adults. So, when you can, find a group for other survivors. That’s when you’ll really start to heal. 

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

https://thegatehouse.org/

Wondering How to Sane as Well as Safe During COVID? (approx. 6-7 minute read)

It’s been a full year since the first case of COVID-19 was reported and I thought this would be a good time to check in to see how you’re all doing. It’s been a difficult year, to say the least, and I’m wondering what kind of self-care you’ve been doing to keep yourself sane, as well as safe.

When COVID first reared its ugly head, everyone worldwide was told to maintain a 6 foot, or 2 metre distance in order to keep others safe. It was hard, but not as hard as when we were told we had to wear masks and stay away from family and friends. Humans need contact, physical contact.

Dacher Keltner, the founding director of the Greater Good Science Center and a professor of psychology at the University of California, Berkeley has done a lot of research, and he says that the social functions of touch do so much for humans.

The social functions of touch do things like reinforce reciprocity, soothe us, provide feelings of reward, and tell us that we’re safe. These functions are really important especially when it comes to soothing because a simple touch from another human can release oxytocin; “the love hormone.” Soothing or comforting someone can also help reduce their cardiovascular stress, promote feelings of compassion, happiness, gratitude, and love, and it’s all done by activating the vagus nerve.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t know much about the vagus nerve other than what I learned in college, and I found some really interesting information while writing this article. For instance, our vagus nerve extends from our brainstem, down through our neck and thorax, and into our abdomen. It not only promotes altruism and selflessness, but it also helps with things like swallowing, vocalization, slowing our heart rate, and aiding with our digestion. LiveScience states that the vagus nerve is the largest nerve and:

“By wandering and branching throughout the body, the vagus nerve provides the primary control for the nervous system's parasympathetic division: the rest-and-digest counterpoint to the sympathetic nervous system's fight-or-flight response. When the body is not under stress, the vagus nerve sends commands that slow heart and breathing rates and increase digestion. In times of stress, control shifts to the sympathetic system, which produces the opposite effect.”

So, as you can see, activating our vagus nerve is extremely important for people like us because it can reduce depression, calm our fight, or flight response, and it can help us to recognize and feel love. All these things help with our mental health and I want to make sure that you’re doing whatever you can to help yourself get through the COVID pandemic.

Unfortunately, there is nothing that can actually replace human touch, so if you’re alone during this pandemic, you’re going to have to work extra hard to make sure you produce the chemicals your body needs to stay happy and be in a positive state. The good news is there are three other chemicals that help you to be happy and stay in a positive state, and they are: endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin. Dopamine is a motivator and helps you to achieve goals and get things done and it’s a chemical you can produce without touch. Personally, I have found the best way to ensure that I have a consistent pattern for experiencing dopamine, is to create new goals, especially before achieving one; that way you will rarely experience a low. Another way to create dopamine is to make sure that you celebrate your accomplishments and you can do that by heading to your favourite restaurant and get some take-out, buy yourself a bottle of wine, or just do something that warms your heart.

Serotonin is very important to your brain because when you don’t have enough, you tend to feel lonely or depressed and you may seek out unhealthy behaviours in order to facilitate serotonin release. Some people take anti-depressants to help them with serotonin production, but you can also do things to help yourself. One of those things is to keep a gratitude journal so that you can remind yourself of what you do have, instead of focusing on what you don’t have. Another thing I do is getting outside for at least twenty minutes each day because it helps my body to produce serotonin and Vitamin D, and it always helps me to get my mind out of the proverbial rabbit hole; even if all I do is open the front door and look up at the sky.

The last neurotransmitter of the three I mentioned that help with our happiness, are endorphins and they can also be produced without human touch. Endorphins help to alleviate anxiety and stress, and they can act as a sedative or analgesic, by diminishing our perception of pain. The good thing about endorphins is they are produced by exercising, eating spicy foods and dark chocolate as well as using aromatherapies, such as lavender and vanilla.

The best thing about endorphins is that they can also be produced by laughter and/or having a good sense of humour. So, make sure to watch lots of comedies, play practical jokes (nice ones) on loved ones, or just be self-deprecating, and joke about your quirks.

Something else we need to do during this pandemic is make sure we keep our immune systems strong because wearing masks and washing our hands; twenty or more times a day, is doing nothing for our immune systems. I’ve read articles this past year that disagree with that hypothesis, and I’m sure you have too, so I’m going to quote from an article written by U.S. News before COVID:

“Exposure to microbes is an essential part of being human. Most of our immune system is comprised of tissue that requires activation by the microbes we’re exposed to. The immune system requires the presence of friendly bacteria to regulate its functions. Think of the immune system as an army, with tanks and missiles but no general to lead them. That’s the role friendly microbes play in your body; they’re the general.” The vast majority of microbes, 97% to 99%, are benign or beneficial, and they are the best protection to fight pathogenic microorganisms, Krishnan says.”

Based on that quote by, Krishnan, I’m going to give you some ideas on how to keep your microbiome healthy. First of all, if you don’t have a pet, get one because there’s research that claims early exposure to all animals, can reduce the risk of your children getting asthma. Reduce your use of antibacterial soaps and chlorine-based cleaners so that you are living in a home that has a healthy microbial environment, instead of one that is sterile. Play in the dirt. You can start an herb garden inside right now and then when the weather gets warm again, get outside and grow your own veggies. Not only is it healthy for your microbiome, but it’s also healthier for you because you’re eating more fresh whole foods.

Last but not least, make sure to spend time with your circle of ten, or however many your city is permitting. You don’t have to hug and kiss them; unless you want to but having close interactions with your family; or chosen family, is really important. Not just for our immune systems or microbiome but spending time with other humans helps with our psyche, and our mental health as well.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following, and please make sure you’re taking care of you.

Links and References:

https://www.livescience.com/first-case-coronavirus-found.html

https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/hands_on_research

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5859128/#:~:text=The%20vagus%20nerve%20carries%20an,thorax%20down%20to%20the%20abdomen.

https://www.livescience.com/vagus-nerve.html

https://www.thegeniusworks.com/2018/10/time-to-activate-your-happy-chemicals-dopamine-serotonin-endorphins-and-oxytocin/

https://health.usnews.com/wellness/articles/hygiene-hypothesis-could-more-dirt-and-germs-boost-your-health

Meema and Beepa Love You! (approx. 4-5 min. read)

It’s been a really long time since I wrote a blog I felt was worthy of posting, but here goes…

As you know my kids stopped talking to me 863 days ago; that’s 2 years, 133 days, 10 hours, and 33 minutes, but who’s counting lol?! The hardest part about it is the fact that they cut us off from our grandkids and that really hurts. I never had a relationship with my grandparents, and I had always wanted to change that with our grandchildren & for a while Gary and I did. Because prior to us moving up here the grandkids would come for sleepovers on a regular basis; two of them had been sleeping over at least once a month since they were born.

When the grandchildren weren’t sleeping over, we did things with them, like taking them to fishing derby’s, Easter egg hunts, and treasure hunts. We introduced them to breeding Monarch butterflies, Christmas tree hunting, pumpkin patch, and apple picking excursions, as well as nature, walks. In fact, the oldest grandchild was 6 weeks old the first time I tucked him into his snuggly, zipped him into my winter jacket, and took him hiking on the “friendship trail,” behind our old house in Millgrove. We also spent a lot of time teaching them how to do research on the computer, so they could learn all about nature, which they soaked up like sponges.

It was wonderful because we made so many great memories with them. We were even told by our oldest grandchild; more than once, that our home was his favorite place in the world, and it makes me wonder where the 4 of them think we went? Did their parents tell them we’re dead?

The year we moved up here, I reached out many times to find out why my kids stopped talking to me, but they never answered me until Christmas Eve, and it was in the form of emails. The first one was from my youngest and amongst a whole bunch of other stuff that I know came from my parents, she said she was angry at me for sending birthday cards to the grandchildren. She said that I had a lot of gall sending the fourth card after neither she nor her sister had replied to the previous three that I sent.

The last card I had sent was for her oldest, and she was really upset that he almost intercepted it. Apparently, he’d been running ahead of her to check the mail each day, which to me seems out of character for a child that lives and breathes video games. Truthfully, the more I’ve thought about it, makes me think he overheard his mother and aunt talking about the birthday cards I had sent for his sister and cousins. I believe he was running ahead because he was hoping he would be able to seize his birthday card before they did, because he misses us, or at least he did before we moved.

I got a bunch of nasty texts from his father one night telling me to stop writing blogs or he was going to show my grandson the blog I wrote about my father after his death. He told me he was hoping that his son would hate me once he read it, but I don’t think he would. This little guy is really smart and once he sees the blog, he’ll be able to find his way back to my website and that’s the reason I decided to write this one. I’m hoping that he will find it and share it with the rest of our grandchildren. That way they will know that we love them all and we would never cut our ties with them - ever.

I want my grandchildren to know that I love them more than life itself and there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about them. In the beginning, I didn’t have any reminders of them in the house because it just hurt too much, but now I have pictures up. They’re a little outdated because I’ve been blocked by my kids and I don’t know how to get recent pictures, but when I look at the pictures, I try to imagine how they look now.

Honestly, it’s incredibly difficult having someone you love ripped out of your arms and not know what is going on with them. I wonder about them all the time…if they have the same hobbies, or if their tastes have changed? How school is going for all of them because two of them were being bullied the last time we talked? More importantly, I wonder how are they dealing with this pandemic and the changes they are having to deal with in their sweet little lives?

My hope is that they will remember all the good times we had together and that I tried to reach out to them. I hope that their memories of Gary and I will surpass any of the bad things their parents are saying and that they will search us out when they’re old enough. Unless of course they’ve been told we’re dead, and as I write that, it brings tears to my eyes, because I can’t imagine not seeing them ever again.

I always wanted kids and grandkids, and I did everything in my power to keep them safe. I was always available to them, and I always put them first and I wish they would just talk to me and tell me what I did to upset them. That way I can apologize, and we can work on getting past it. My anger is with my parents, not with them and they had no right to bring my kids into this mess. This “mess” is and always has been between me and my parents. My kids should never have been included in any of this because like me they don’t deserve it, and I want them to know that I’m here, I love them, and I want to fix this. Period.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Finding That “One Thing.” (approx. 4 - 5 min. read)

One of the most important steps in healing is finding at least one thing that you do just for you, not for anyone else. Not only that, this “one thing" you need to be doing is because it warms your heart, not someone else’s. And I know that sometimes it’s hard to find that one thing because a lot of us have spent so much of our lives trying to make other people happy; like our abusers, but if you’re like me, that one thing dropped into my lap. It wasn’t apparent that it was going to become a hobby because when it first appeared in my life, it was there entirely out of necessity, but then I started to get really curious and now I’m pretty sure I’m in love!

Having a hobby feels pretty foreign because I’ve never really had a hobby. I was a single parent for a large part of my life, and not only did I not have the time for a hobby, I always believed that doing something that was just for me, was selfish. Sure, I’ve picked up a camera and taken a few pictures, and I’ve also been part of a hiking group, but I’ve never fully immersed myself in something that wasn’t part of a responsibility of some sort, until the honeybees and becoming a hobbyist beekeeper (beek).

I never thought I was the type of person that would find joy working with little bugs that have the ability to sting when they’re pissed off, even though my husband Gary always wanted to be a beek. I had no idea I was going to like it so much and I made excuses as to why we shouldn’t have hives on our property for years, but last year when my tests came back positive for Lyme disease, we decided to get hives. It was purely out of necessity because we couldn’t find a physician that would treat my Lyme and we’d heard that bee venom therapy (BVT) could heal Lyme, so by June of 2019, we were the proud owners of two beehives.

It was amazing watching Gary from afar because there always seemed to be something going on in the hives and he either took pictures or videos of the excitement so I could watch and see for myself. Even if I’d had the strength to be a part of it, it wasn’t safe for me to go near the hives while I was doing BVT because as I already mentioned – the girls like to sting when they’re pissed off, and getting a sting on a day off, could cause anaphylaxis and then I’d have to stop doing BVT.

During our first year, we had two swarms – one of which we caught, and that in itself is incredible because we had no idea what we were doing. We also had to re-Queen the hive that swarmed because the original Queen leaves when a hive swarms. Then we were hit by a bear in April of this year, and even though the hive that was hit was a pretty strong hive, it was really cold outside and the bees weren’t strong enough to survive a hit like that. What made it worse was that the bear hit the hive twice before we were able to locate a bear fence and put it up because COVID-19 had just about everything under lockdown, and there wasn’t a lot of stock …we were devastated and unsure of how we should move forward.

Luckily when I reached out to the local bee inspectors to get some help, they put me in touch with a woman that owns one of the local beekeeping businesses, her name is, Carmenie. As it turns out, she’s extremely knowledgeable, and she’s really nice. When I first called her, she said that I was more than welcome to come and watch her, but after we’d set up a time to meet the next day, she chuckled and asked me if I was sure, saying that there might be better mentors. I just chuckled along with her and told her I looked forward to meeting her before hanging up the phone.

The next day I got up, got dressed, and confirmed where her house was on MAPS before heading out, not even thinking about the fact that I was on my way to a stranger’s house without giving it a second thought. As you know, this was huge for me because when I first started my blog, I couldn’t even go out of my front door without having a panic attack and here I was meeting a stranger and in a strange place! The drive there was completely uneventful and when I arrived, Carmenie was standing by her honey house doing something with some hives that were in the yard, and she waved to me as soon as she saw me.

Since that day, I’ve been out beekeeping with Carmenie four times, and not once have I felt fearful leaving my property or that I was somewhere I didn’t belong. I believe that she is a kindred spirit and when I’m heading out to go beekeeping with Carmenie, all I’m thinking about is whether we’re going to have trouble finding the Queen or how many times we’re going to get stung by the honeybees. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and its symptoms are the furthest things from my mind, and it feels a little strange because it happened so subtly. Five years ago, I was afraid to leave my house and now I’ve found a hobby and I feel like I have a new lease on life, and I encourage you to do the same.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Don’t Make Excuses for How You Think or Feel, Just Believe in You. (approx. 7-8 min. read)

It’s been months since I last wrote, and it’s not because I haven’t been inspired to write, it's because of COVID-19; the new coronavirus and the fact that I felt like nothing I had to say was as important as how it’s affecting the world. I believe that COVID-19 has and will continue changing the way people have always lived their lives, especially people of my generation. We believe a handshake is the same as a person’s word, and for me, the uncertainty is mind-blowing and it feels almost surreal.

When we first heard about the virus, it didn’t really concern us. The outbreak was in China, with very few cases in Canada or the rest of the world, in fact, most of the cases of COVID-19 were people that lived in China or had recently traveled from China. So, when we heard that a close friend of ours had been diagnosed with cancer and was going to Jamaica; where we had first met, for a vacation, we jumped at the chance. We had earned close to $6000.00 WestJet dollars building our house and we hadn’t had a vacation, or a break in years.

Thinking mostly of our friend, we booked the trip and left for Jamaica on February 23, 2020. We talked to her husband ahead of time and decided we would keep it a secret, so it would be a big surprise for her, and it was! The best thing about it was, just before the trip she found out she was in remission, so instead, the trip being melancholy, it was a time to get caught up and celebrate.

The best part about the whole trip was what it did for my head because I did a whole lot of healing while I was away from the place, I call home. I’m not sure what it was, or what lead up to it, but I didn’t get anxious about flying or being in a strange place and since I got held up almost fifteen years ago that was my new normal. Since that fateful day, I have been anxious, hypervigilant, and incredibly fearful, but while I was away this year, I felt confident, self-assured, and brave and I’m incredibly proud to say those feelings have stayed with me, even though the world seems to have changed exponentially.

Unfortunately, while I was on holiday growing a set of gonads, COVID-19 was spreading quickly and when we got back on March 3, 2020, hysteria was starting to set in and we knew we’d better stock up on groceries before there was nothing left. Gary had to go back to work the day after we got home, so I volunteered to drive the two and half-hour drive into the city to do a Costco run. Regrettably, when I got there the store was so packed that I couldn’t keep a safe distance from anyone, which made me feel incredibly fearful and I ended up walking out before getting everything that was on our list.

While I was out, I was incredibly careful, and I never touched anything without using sanitizer straight after, but in less than fourteen days after my visit to the city, both Gary and I were sick. Gary was the first one to get it and it started with a really bad headache; something he gets often, and we thought it was just stress, but less than twenty-four hours later we were both experiencing the symptoms of COVID-19 and we were scared - to say the least.

A lot of the fear came from the fact that I have type II diabetes, plus I was diagnosed with Lyme disease last year, and Gary is only a year away from being sixty. The medical community had confirmed that people like Gary and I are at a greater risk of succumbing to COVID-19, so we were fearful. So fearful, in fact, that we ended up having one of the biggest arguments we’ve ever had …and it was over not being able to get out and get what we needed before having to isolate – something that was out of both of our control. And as you know it’s really hard for a survivor when we feel like things are out of our control so for the subsequent twenty-three days; nine for me to get over the illness and fourteen to self-isolate, I just about lost my mind with the fear.

Fortunately, Gary started to feel better on the second day and by the third day, his symptoms were gone, and I honestly thought I would be the same as him, but I wasn’t. By the third day, I was having trouble breathing and my blood sugars had sky-rocketed, so when I called my old family physician; we don’t have one up here yet, she instructed me to go and get tested at the local “unit,” straight away.

When we got there, a security guard took my cell phone number and instructed me to wait in the car until someone called me. We waited about five minutes before my phone rang and I was instructed to go through the doors to the left of the unit. I walked through the doors reluctantly because if I didn’t have the virus, I felt like I would by the time I left. I was instructed to put on a gown, wash my hands, and then go to booth number three. They took my temperature, asked me a few questions, and then sent me away with a note instructing both Gary and I to self-isolate for fourteen days after my last symptom, even though I couldn’t take a deep breath without coughing so bad I would wretch and struggle to breathe.

I was so angry! They never listened to my chest or did any x-rays even though they could see I was visibly struggling. The only thing the physician said to me was that they were only testing health care workers because there weren’t enough tests and to ONLY come back to the unit if my symptoms got worse than they were?!

I was flabbergasted and when I went out the door of the unit, I slammed it behind me. I was really sick and here I was being sent away; just like after being diagnosed with Lyme disease. I felt like the medical community was failing me once again. Our government was posting all over social media that if we fell sick with COVID-19, we would be tested and taken care of, yet here we were being sent away. It was such a contradiction to what we’d been told and instead of talking about it on the way home, we rode home in silence wondering about our mortality and if we were strong enough to beat this insidious virus. One that had never before existed in mankind and would be the fate of many because no one on earth had the antibodies to fight it.

Luckily, three days after we went to the unit; a total of nine days, my fever dropped, my headache and sore throat went away, and my cough stopped – even though I had been told by a physician that the cough could last up to eight weeks. Truthfully, it felt like a miracle and it’s made me feel almost like I have a new lease on life and that is a marvel because, for the past fourteen plus years, it’s felt like the sky has been falling.

… but and as you know it’s always a big but, I truthfully have come out the other side and I wanted to share that with you because I never believed that I would be able to “live” with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I thought I would always be the girl with PTSD, and that I’d always be afraid of the world, but the last few years, especially the last three months, has made me realize that I was wrong. I’m not sure when the shift happened, but after over a decade of therapy, and some major life changes, I have discovered how to live with PTSD, and I believe you can too.

I know that this is an extremely difficult time because COVID-19 and the uncertainty of what comes next and how it has changed our lives forever is traumatic and it’s causing a lot of people to experience symptoms of PTSD for the first time. But whether you are experiencing it for the first time or you’ve been living with PTSD for a lifetime, you need to know that you will feel brave and confident again. It doesn’t happen overnight; believe me, but when you learn to put yourself first, things will start to change for you. You don’t need to be selfish or blame anyone, just start putting your thoughts and feelings at the forefront of your mind and you will start to see changes almost immediately as you start to live your authentic life.

Remember not to make excuses for how you think or feel, and I know that might be hard for you because you’re so used to being everything for everyone else, but instead of making excuses, be deliberate in everything you do from now on. Be thoughtful, methodical, and always make decisions based on the purpose of keeping yourself happy. Because I believe that when you have achieved that; when you can answer someone back keeping your feelings in mind, instead of worrying, or feeling fearful about whether you’re hurting someone else’s, you will be well on your way to living your life.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

https://www.covid-19canada.com/graphs

https://globalnews.ca/news/6627505/coronavirus-covid-canada-timeline/

New Year's Resolution - How's That Working for You? (approx. 2½- 3 min. read)

It’s another new year and I don’t know about you, but I’m really excited about starting over because that’s kind of what it’s like; starting over. The clock strikes 12:01 AM January 1st, and it’s not just a new day, it’s a new year and some people like to make new year resolutions like losing or gaining a certain amount of weight, quitting smoking, starting a new workout schedule or doing random acts of kindness, but unfortunately, only about 8% actually succeed.

A lot of people make resolutions and out of those people, 25 % have forgotten about the promises they made to themselves or have fallen back into their old ways in the first thirty days. By the end of February, all but 8% of those people are still working on their aspirations and that’s really hard on the people that dropped out of the equation.

During the years that I used to make new year resolutions, I was one of those people and I made lots of resolutions, but in all that time; probably close to three decades the only resolution I’ve kept was to quit smoking. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great resolution, and probably one of the hardest, but in that time period, there were thirty (!!) new year’s eves for me to make changes to my life and I only managed to keep one of them. ONE, and it makes me feel like a failure!

I had all those years to work on becoming a better, healthier person and I feel like all I did was waste time and to me, time is more precious than anything else we have in this world, and I’ve got less time left than I care to admit, and even then I’m going by my age, so I may have even less time than I think. This was why I started making goals for myself a few years back instead and I make them throughout the year, so the only thing I’m promising myself on New Year’s Eve is to enjoy myself and have a good time.

Forbes agrees with me and believes that we have a better chance of achieving a goal because goals are less vague and more actionable than a resolution. This means that you can be more specific about a goal than a resolution because it can be broken down into smaller steps and that makes it more achievable. Breaking your goal down into steps will help you to stay better focused, because it won’t be as daunting a task, not only that it will be easier to keep track of your progress.

Last but certainly not least, when you’re making new goals throughout the year, be careful who you share them with because some people will make you doubt yourself and in the past, their actions have made me question myself and I end up giving up before I even get started. Share your ideas freely with the people that support you, but the people that don’t, hold off sharing your goals until they are well established. That way if they try to make you feel like you’re being overzealous, you can quickly dismiss their doubting natures with the facts.

What are your goals for the year?

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and Resources:

https://nypost.com/2018/12/21/new-years-resolutions-last-exactly-this-long/

https://www.forbes.com/sites/ashiraprossack1/2018/12/31/goals-not-resolutions/#180639b73879

You Ever Feel like You’re Living in Oz? (approx. 4-5 min. read)

Do you remember when Dorothy taps her ruby red slippers together and says there’s no place like home, because I do, and I wish I could click my heels together and be home again, but where is home?

Up until we moved here a year and a half ago, I lived in a circle that was about sixty kilometres in circumference and that’s where all the friends, I hung out with on a regular basis are; except for Gary. Once we got up here, my kids stopped talking to me, and I still don’t have a reason why, but in order for me to get my brain in the game, I have to tell myself that that is okay; that it will never be home for me again.

It’s been really hard since we got here; not because I don’t love our home and our property because I do, I’m just having trouble with getting used to living somewhere so unfamiliar, it might as well be Oz.

In the beginning, I barely went out, so that meant that Gary had to do all the shopping, but when we’d been here close to a year, things started to shift, and I started to feel more comfortable with my surroundings. When things started to change, I started driving to a small town about ten minutes away to pick up eggs or fruit to tide us over until Gary could go into the city to do our weekly shopping, as well as doing my service dog, Laddie’s public access training.

After a couple of months, I was able to extend my training with Laddie to the local hardware store and while we were there, we could pick up one or two things that we needed for building the house. Which meant that I couldn’t just go into the store and walk the isles, I had to stand in a check outline, and that meant that I might have to talk to someone, and the thought caused me so much anxiety. At first, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, but each time I faced a “hurdle,” because that’s what they were, I became more comfortable and trusting.

As most of you know, trust is something people with PTSD struggle with, especially if most of their trauma was created by people that were supposed to love and protect them. It takes a lot of time for someone like me to learn how to trust because every time a person living with PTSD is triggered, our sense of trust is destroyed, and we need to rebuild it and that can take a lot of time.

A few more months passed by and I decided it was time to challenge myself a little more, so I started going into the city to do Laddie’s training sessions at the big box stores. Then when we’d mastered those, our next goal was to graduate to the mall, which was a setting he had always been trained in.

I won’t lie; it was hard, and there were times I couldn’t go out, but when we did Laddie’s recertification in September of this year, he passed with flying colours.

Life was starting to feel good and I was beginning to feel like I could make this place my home but after the incident in that same mall a couple of weeks back, I can barely leave my house.

I feel like my health and safety were threatened. They treated like a criminal and truthfully, I’m scared to go back there, or anywhere else at this point. I was triggered and even though I was in a good place in my recovery when it happened, my brain has reacted in a way that has become all too familiar since my PTSD diagnosis and I don’t seem to have much control over my thoughts and feelings at the moment.

If you’ve been following along you know that injustice has become one of my biggest triggers and I think it’s because the guy that held me up never got charged …as I wrote that last sentence I realized that none of my traumas have seen justice so it totally makes sense why I haven’t been able to live normally since the incident at my workplace happened and why injustice is now a huge trigger.

Which brings me back to why I feel so messed up now. Two weeks ago, when I visited the mall, one of the merchants stole almost $400.00 from me. After the merchant stole my money, she told me she was going to call her head office for help and instead called security on me and if you read last week’s blog you know that I was threatened with the police, handcuffs and being charged with trespassing. How many people saw what happened? Do they think “the lady with the service dog is a criminal now?”

I hate to play the victim because as you know I’ve been fighting with all my might to get out of that role, but I honestly feel like a victim right now. I was treated like a criminal, yet I did absolutely nothing wrong and what I’m trying to figure out is will this community ever feel like home, or will it always feel like Oz?

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

https://www.davinalytle.com/blog/2019/12/4/do-i-have-a-target-on-my-back-approx-15-16-min-read

https://psychcentral.com/lib/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-residual-symptoms/

https://www.verywellmind.com/what-does-it-mean-to-be-triggered-4175432

Do I Have a Target on My Back? (approx. 15-16 min. read)

You ever feel like there’s a target on your back, because I do. I feel like the moment I try to do something outside of my comfort zone, something goes awry.

Last week I went shopping, not for groceries or necessities, it was entirely for fun and I was going with a friend that I’d met at my DBT group; someone that understood mental illness.

For those of you that are following me, you know that this was huge for me because it had been over a decade since I went shopping for the fun of it. I was so excited that I barely slept the night before and it wasn’t until I got up the next morning that I realized that it was because I was so excited. Being excited about going out was such a foreign feeling, that I really had to analyze what I was feeling.

Little did I know that I was going to have one of the biggest triggers I’d had in ages.

My friend whom I’d met quite recently arrived at my place around 8:30 because we’d decided it would be easier if I drove because of Laddie; my service dog. We hugged each other when she got to my place and then we got in my car to drive the half hour into town getting to the mall just as the stores were opening.

I wanted to stop at the jewellery store that was located in the mall because I wanted to surprise my husband, Gary with a new wedding band for Christmas. The store was part of the chain we had bought most of our jewellery from, including his original ring. He lost it quite a few years back when he was doing some work for one of my family members and they wouldn’t let him go back and look for it, but that’s another story entirely.

Anyway, the jewellery store wasn’t open yet, so we decided to do the rest of our shopping first. We walked around the mall, talking and getting better acquainted as we went in and out of the stores in the mall. It seemed like we had the same interests because we were both interested in the same stores and we purchased some pretty awesome stuff before heading back to the jewellery store.

When we got to the jewellery store, the clerk, who I later found out was the manager, looked at me then at Laddie and made hand and facial gestures like she wanted to touch him, but shook her head no before I could even respond, so she knew he was a service dog and that he was working. I thought her gestures were quite exaggerated, but she was in sales and I figured she was trying to get on the right side of a sale.

I was able to pick out the same one quite easily. The clerk motioned for me to follow her to the check out area, which I did, where she scanned the ring and gave me the total amount that I owed, including tax. As I put my bank card into the bank machine to pay for the purchase, she told me she was going to go and clean the ring and went over to another counter behind me.

I verified the purchase price on the bank machine, punched in my password and when the machine started making the boink, boink sound for me to remove my card, I did. Less than two seconds after I had pulled out my bank card, the clerk was back in front of her computer and I noticed that the screen was blank, but I just figured that it had gone to sleep.

The manager turned to me and asked me if the transaction went through and I said yes. She turned away from me, fiddled with her computer some more and then asked me again if it had gone through. I repeated yes and told her once again that it had gone through and that it had actually “boinked” at me when it was done, but she didn’t seem to hear me; in fact, she seemed quite distracted.

After about five minutes, she turned back around to face me and told me that the payment hadn’t gone through, I was gob-smacked because I knew that it did and I immediately pulled out my cell phone so that I could go online to prove it to her. I signed into my online banking, pulled up my account and there it was – ******’s $380.53, so I showed it to her.

She dismissed me and said something about the payment being “orphaned” on her end and told me that I would have to put it through again. I shook my head in disbelief, showed her my phone again and reiterated that it had gone through and I had proof. She dismissed me with her hand and said no, you don’t understand, it didn’t go through on our end. I told her that it had to have gone through, otherwise it wouldn’t be showing on my account, but all she did was tell me that I had to put through the payment again.

I looked at her as if she had two heads and told her there was no way I was going to put it through again, when it was clear that it had already been taken out of my account. She said that I either paid for it again, or the ring wasn’t mine.

I was starting to question myself, as most people with mental illness do and I turned to the friend that was with me; showed her my phone so she could see that it had been taken out of my account and asked her what she thought? She looked at my phone, got this really disgusted look on her face and agreed with me, so I turned back to the clerk and repeated that I wasn’t going to put it through again. I was really starting to get angry about the situation and told the clerk that I wasn’t leaving the store until she either gave me the ring I purchased or refunded my money.

I really was starting to panic …I didn’t know what was happening and I had only known the friend I was with for a couple of months and this was the first time we had been shopping together. I didn’t want her to see me have a panic attack …I was worried how she was going to take it; whether she would think I was a bad person, or worse that this “situation” would end our friendship?

The clerk started saying something and it brought me back to reality. She said that what I was requesting wasn’t store policy, and that’s when I said it was a ridiculous policy, that I wanted to speak to the manager and that’s when she admitted that she was the manager. I was taken back because if she was the manager, why was she treating me this way? All I could say was that I wasn’t going anywhere until I got what was owed to me.

She excused herself and said she was going to call her head office to see what they could do, but at the same time gave me a number to call …I should have known she wasn’t calling her head office, because why would she have asked me to call her head office at the same time, but sometimes I don’t think in the moment, and being an honest person myself, I didn’t expect her to lie to me, so I took the number from her.

I turned my back to the manager and looked down at Laddie because he’d sensed my fear and was sitting on one of my feet looking up at me. I told him for the millionth time since I got him two years back, that he was such a good dog and asked him if I had an X across my back; like a target, before I called the number the manager had given me. He was my sounding board when I was being triggered and I was being triggered.

Truthfully, I was incredibly anxious at this point, and the pores of my skin had started to open, and I started to sweat... My heart was beating a million miles an hour. I had never been in trouble with anyone other than my parents, and I’m close to sixty, so I was starting to lose my shit.

I looked over at my new friend, smiled as best as I could and said I was sorry. She asked me what for and I said, “We’re supposed to be Christmas shopping.” She smiled back at me and said we are,” and turned her phone towards me so I could see the screen and then she laughed; she was on Amazon’s website, in the toy section. I’m sure she was trying to ease the tension and I was grateful she was with me and I wasn’t alone, and I laughed with her. It was a really nervous laugh, but when I get upset, I laugh – go figure!

The phone rang as the connection went through and it brought me back to reality, but I was immediately put on hold. I turned back around to the manager to see if she had any news for me and that was when I saw that there was a security guard on the other side of the counter. My heart skipped a beat and before I could turn back to my friend to ask her if she thought the security guard was there for me; he came up behind me and he startled me; I’m hypervigilant especially when I’m triggered.

I smiled at him and said something like thank god, did you know that they just stole money from me, but he retaliated with you need to leave the store. Once again, I was taken back because I really thought I was in the right, and here I was being told to leave the store by a security figure. I didn’t know what to think and asked my friend to pinch me because I truly felt that I had to be dreaming. I hadn’t been out shopping for fun in decades and here I was being treated like I was a criminal and a degenerate and I was being dismissed.

It was a nightmare come true because injustice is one of my biggest triggers, and here the injustice was being directed at me, again.

The security guard held out his pad and pencil and asked me to spell my name out for him and all I could do was glare at him. I was trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. They stole my money and the staff were treating me like I was a criminal in front of at least ten people; including my new friend.

I think I glared at the guard for about a minute. I really wanted to hate him, but time was all messed up, everything was messed up and then he said, “you aren’t going to give me your name?” I continued to stare back at him while trying to figure out what I should do. As I mentioned, I’ve never been in trouble before and the store I was being asked to leave stole money from me. I was trying to figure out in my head if they could charge me. I was trying to think about situations I’d ever heard about that were similiar and whether the police would actually come and take me away in handcuffs. Fuck! I couldn’t believe this was happening to me and I tried to think but my brain was in fight or flight, and not much good to me at the time.

The next thing I knew, was the security guard turned to my friend and asked if she was related to me and when she said no, he asked for her name. I snapped out of it long enough to tell her not to give him her name. I mumbled that this had nothing to do with her and then went back inside my head so I could try to figure out what I should do.

The guard was frustrated with the whole situation, you could see it on his face, and he turned back to me and said, you have five minutes to leave the store or I’m going to call the police. I just stared at him as he went on to say that they would charge me for trespassing, but I was lost in my head and all I could think was WTF? I didn’t do anything wrong. I picked out and paid for a wedding band that I wanted to give to my husband, and I was being threatened with the risk of going to jail.

All I could think about was that there were so many people staring at me and my service dog. I just wanted to crawl under a rock. My post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) wreaks havoc with my brain a lot of the time, and this was definitely no exception. I wondered briefly what everyone was thinking and thought to myself that they would never forget me, that they would always look at me and point and say, that’s the woman that was thrown out of ******’s by security. It was then that I overheard the security guard say that he was going to call the police.

In that moment, I was a little girl again, being scolded by my abusers. I had not done anything wrong, but here I was being centered out and punished and I couldn’t figure out why.

I was still standing there trying to figure out what the heck was going on when the security guard told me he was calling the cops and started to dial as he turned and walked away from me. I was so angry and frustrated, but I had a feeling that if I stayed it wouldn’t work out well for me.

I was trying with all of my strength to hold myself together and get out of the store without having a fit of rage. Rage is a symptom of PTSD and they were pushing me to my utmost limit. I ended up saying fuck you to the guard before I stormed out of the store. I was balling my eyes out in frustration at being humiliated, even though, I didn’t do ANYTHING wrong.

As I walked away, I told the patrons in the store to beware that the jewellery store might rip them off like they had done to me. I walked out of the building, while holding my cell phone in my hand because I was still on hold with their head office.

I was a blubbering mess and I couldn’t figure out what to do. I didn’t understand what had just happened and felt like I was in shock. When I got back to my car, the store’s head office told me that the best they could do was put the money back into my account by the end of the day, but in my head, they had already stolen from me and I was furious. At the time I wrote this blog, my account was still in a deficit of $380.53 and I had absolutely no proof that I hadn’t received the ring, other than my friend being there.

When I got home, I called the police and they repeated to me what the security guard said. They would have charged me, and if need be, I would have been handcuffed and hauled out of the store.

My first question is where is the justice in what happened to me?

Doesn’t it matter to anyone that the store stole money from me, and refused to reimburse me?

What about the fact that they treated me like a criminal?! ME?

Honestly, I have no idea how to get back to where I was in my healing because my head is swimming with the injustice of it all. I did absolutely nothing wrong and here I sit with almost $400.00 stolen from me and nobody gives a rat’s ass. I’m a good person yet it feels like I have a target on my back and no matter what I do, injustice seems to be lurking around the corner. Right now I just want to stay in bed and hide from the world as my head and my heart are on full to overloading and I don’t have the strength, especially at this time of year to fight back.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Trying to Make New Memories This Christmas. (approx. 6-7 min. read)

The holidays are upon us and I know I’ve written about them before; at least once, but at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I need to write about them again. Writing about what ails me is so helpful in my recovery, so without further adieu…

It’s getting really close to the Christmas holidays and if you’re anything like me, it’s a time I dread. I’m not sure when I started dreading this time of year, but it’s been years.

After my father left on September 1, 1975, my siblings and I only ever once celebrated Christmas day with him and his new family. In fact, we never heard a word from him during the first Christmas he was gone and when I finally located him a year later, he basically opened the conversation by making excuses as to why we couldn’t celebrate Christmas day with him anymore.

The first Christmas without him in 1975 was really sad because he was supposed to have only been gone for three months and come home in time for Christmas; they called it a trial separation, but the three-month marker came and went, and we didn’t even get a phone call from him. The worst thing was that my mother didn’t want to talk to any of us about it, and she wouldn’t let us call him, so we had no idea what was going on.

It was really difficult because not only was a part of our family missing, we had no idea where to start when it came to Christmas. Our father had been an artist and every year he designed a calendar that told us when and where we would do things like decorate, shop for presents, etc. and this year there wasn’t one. My brothers decided that they were going to skip it that year and when I asked them about decorating, they basically told me to piss off.

So, I took matters into my own hands in order to keep things as “normal,” as I could, and I put the tree up during a Grey cup celebration my oldest brother was having. I had a great time, as I was distracted by all the hooting and hollering going on and when it was up, the tree looked amazing. Needless to say, this is the day I have continued to put up my tree. There have been a few exceptions; like last year because we didn’t get the permit to move into our house until Christmas Eve, but for the most part, Grey Cup weekend is the weekend we have cut down a tree and decorated it.

Each and every year that I lived with my biological family, I would pull all the decorations out, put them all up and try to get into the “spirit,” but it was so hard. Nobody seemed to be interested in helping, not even my mother and it was left to me …to be honest, after my father left, all of our holidays kind of went by the wayside and we not only stopped celebrating Christmas, we stopped celebrating Thanksgiving and Easter as well.

As we got older, found partners and started having our own families, the celebrations became less and less and by the time I was in my early twenties, I didn’t get to see my biological family on Christmas day. My mother would promise each year that she’d come to my place, but she’d make excuses and make plans with my younger brother and whoever he was dating, instead. As for my father, as I stated earlier, there was only one Christmas my brothers and I were invited to celebrate with his family and when it came to Boxing day, he and his wife would always make excuses about my kids, or grandkids being sick so I would get stood up by them as well.

Don’t get me wrong because I had some amazing Christmases with my kids when they were growing up, but once they had their own families, I was without biological family again.

Fast forward to today and things have changed, but when it comes to the holidays, they’ve gotten worse instead of better. My kids stopped talking to me on May 16, 2019 and other than a few “unfriendly” emails telling me that unless I “take part in a recorded mediation for further consideration,” I won’t ever see them, or my grandkids ever again. They blocked me on social media so I can’t see pictures of them or my grandchildren and told me that they’d get a lawyer if I didn’t stop sending cards and/or tried to contact them.

I’m really not sure what I did…

I’ve been told that they don’t trust me because of my mental illness, but I’m not sure, because there’s never been a real discussion about it. They just stopped replying to my texts and phone calls. Furthermore, they refuse to talk to me unless I take part in a recorded mediation, as I’ve already mentioned, but I won’t do it. I have been the brunt of theirs and the Chesterton jokes for years and there’s no way I’ll give them more ammunition to try and destroy me … and that’s all they seem to want to do – destroy me. Honestly, if they really wanted to resolve the issues we’re having, they would consent to get together; one on one and discuss them like adults, as I’ve proposed more than once.

Anyway, I’m trying to get into the spirit and make my husband, Gary’s and my Christmas holiday memorable this year and every year after that, if it’s possible. He misses the grandchildren as much as I do and instead of it being a tearful holiday; again, I’m going to try and make it special by starting new Christmas traditions …it’s all I’ve got.

The first tradition will be putting up a fake tree instead of going out and cutting down a real tree. For close to two decades I had made it a yearly outing with my kids; that and apple picking, no matter who my partner was, but this year our tree’s coming from a box. Gary loves having the Christmas tree up for longer than a month, and in all honesty, so do I, and you can’t do that with a real tree.

The second will be trying to make new memories… Since I was in my late teens, I made it a tradition to purchase at least one new Christmas decoration every year and up until last year, it was great to look back on all those memories but now they’re just a hurtful reminder that my kids aren’t talking to me. Ironically, Gary and I lost most of our belongings in storage while we were building the house; Christmas memorabilia included, so we went out and bought a bunch of new ones.

(We had a huge issue with mold and unless it was solid and could be soaked in bleach, there was no way we could keep it …it was heart-wrenching because we lost so much, including most of our pictures…)

Our third new tradition will be exchanging stockings… Gary and I exchanged gifts while we had kids at home, but when they left, we decided to make the holiday about friends and family, but this year we’re going to do stockings for each other, and make it more about us.

After that, we’re going to put the turkey in the oven, because this year, there’s no “lasagna, or garlic bread!” This year we’re going to have a traditional dinner, right down to the stuffing. Followed by a nature walk in the snow-covered forest behind our house and then a hot toddy or two in the hot tub off the back porch. It won’t be as awesome as waiting for the grandchildren to call or spending time with them while they open their presents, but I’m hoping it will help me to get through something I’ve had anxiety, grief and unhappiness about for decades.

What are you planning on doing differently this year?

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

 Links and References:

https://www.davinalytle.com/blog/2015/12/22/being-good-to-my-inner-child-this-christmas

https://www.davinalytle.com/blog/2016/12/21/i-have-a-very-special-guest-coming-for-christmas

https://www.davinalytle.com/blog/2016/12/30/struggling-but-convincing-myself-its-only-part-of-the-growth-cycle

Flying High! (approx. 9-10 min. read)

OMG! I’m flying high and instead of crying because I feel defeated, I’m crying tears because I rocked it! It reminds me of my favourite Christmas movie: “A Christmas Carol,”where Alastair wakes up from seeing his past, present and future and he dances about saying, “I don’t know what to do… I’m as light as a feather… I’m as merry as schoolboy… I’m as giddy as a drunken man…” Whatever this sensation is, it feel’s like I’ve been given a second chance at my life and I’m going to take it!

Everything kind of started on September 26th when I got a message from Enza Tiberi-Checchia inviting me to be a guest of Hats On for Awareness at the Annual Hatsquerade Gala at the Mental Health Advocates table. The Mental Health Advocates table!!

Enza co-founded the charity Hats on For Awareness with her friend Benny Caringi back in 2008 and this year marked their eleventh annual Hatsquerade. Since their commencement, they’ve raised over a million dollars “to further the reach of mental health programs that enhance the lives of those living with and affected by mental illness and addictions,” and I believe they are a force to be reckoned with.

If you’ve been following along, you know that I’ve been working towards becoming a mental health advocate for quite some time. This invitation was acknowledgement that I’ve reached that goal, so I had to say yes. I know, I know, I’ve told everyone that knows me to never invite to me gatherings with more than 10 people, but how could I say no? If I didn’t go I would feel like such a hypocrite plus the fact that when I was talking about how many people were actually going, a stranger piped up and said that was only 10 people …just 10 times 10 times 10 people – lol!

(My PTSD brain sure has grown this last little while because first of all, I wouldn’t have said yes, and I definitely wouldn’t have laughed at the 10 times 10 joke – from a STRANGER)

After I got the invite, I started making plans to make the gala, as well as the overnight stay, go as smoothly as possible and one of those ways is to look at the worst things that can happen and come up with solutions, just in case worst case scenarios become a part of my reality. Some people think it’s being negative, but I believe it helps me to look beyond the negative, so I’m better able to focus on the positive.

Some of the things that went through my mind were; what if I get lost? More importantly, what if I get harassed about Laddie, my service dog, or finding a place close to the gala that will be okay with Laddie? I know that service dogs are allowed everywhere; it’s the law, but Laddie and I are not always made to feel welcome, and in my humble opinion, that’s the same as not being allowed.

The biggest issue I was worried about was that the only dress I had was impossible to get into, or out of by myself. It was a floor length dress that I had worn to my youngest daughter’s wedding and it was gorgeous, but I couldn’t reach the zipper. My husband and I talked about him coming down to meet me, but it was a two-hour drive and even if he left straight after work, he wouldn’t be able to make it to the hotel in time.

Anyway, I looked up the information on how to get to the hotel and the gala and decided I would rely on my GPS to do the rest. I called ahead to make sure the hotel was fine with Laddie being with me and they were. Then I called one of the staff that was helping to organize the gala to ask her if she could make sure the hall wasn’t going to be an issue when it came to Laddie and it wasn’t. They asked me to bring a doctor’s note, as well as Laddie’s certification papers, which I faxed ahead of time because I was pretty sure that being asked at the door would add to my anxiety. As for my dress, I would have to figure it out when I got there.

The morning of the gala I got up early to do bee venom therapy to treat my Lyme disease, packed up my things and then got in my car to head towards the city. The first thing I needed to do when I got to the city was to get my hair put up because the symptoms of PTSD always make me perspire and I knew that having my hair up, would help to keep me cool.

I set out my regular way, but somehow, I got lost, I’m not sure how, but I got lost. I drove around in circles for about an hour before finding a hydro one work crew and when I stopped and asked for directions, they were very helpful and sent me in the right direction. I tried not to panic because I had allowed myself four and a half hours of extra time, but I ended up losing my reading glasses somewhere along the line, and it made it really hard read the GPS when “Siri” decided to stop talking to me.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I start to get anxious and start experiencing the symptoms of PTSD. For me those symptoms are getting lost in my head, forgetting things I know, panicking, dissociating and being worried that any of those things are going to happen. So, more than once I had to pull into a parking lot, put my seat into a reclined position and close my eyes so I could meditate.

I started meditating this past summer when I joined a Dialectical Behaviour therapy (DBT) group and although it was difficult in the beginning, I’m getting really good at it and because of it I was able to focus on my breathing and get myself back to a space in my reality where I was able to calm myself down and get back on the road.

I ended up at the hotel and ready to go about an hour before the gala started. Luckily, one of the hotel clerks was a female and she helped zip up my dress, and she also offered to unzip it when I got back. I had faced a couple of my “issues” and so far, everything was working out, so I was feeling pretty good, but as the time got closer, I started to freak out and I started to stress sweat. Then my breathing started to change, and I started to panic, so I decided to do what’s been working for me and that was to meditate - again.

I found the most comfortable chair in my hotel room and sat down. Then I put my hands with the palms facing up and put a half smile on my face; this is called smiling face and willing hands, and I started to concentrate on my breathing. I sat there for about ten minutes and I just couldn’t get out of my head, so I decided that I should just go to the gala. I figured that if I was going to stress, then I might as well face my fear to see if it was as bad as I was making it out to be in my head.

The event space was close enough to walk to from the hotel, but I took my car just in case I needed somewhere to escape to and gather my thoughts during the evening.

When Laddie and I got there, we got out of the car and walked across the parking lot and through the front doors of the biggest hall I’d ever seen. The ceilings had to have been at least two stories high and it felt almost big enough to be a stadium. There were people milling about everywhere, but I just told myself to breathe and with Laddie by my side, we walked through the foyer, into the hall and over to where our table was.

It looked fabulous! There were these huge inflated balloons, you know, the ones you bounced around on when you were a kid, hanging above every table and there had to have been at least a hundred tables. These gigantic balloons ranged in the colours of the rainbow and dancing all around them were these coloured lights; they went from wall to ceiling and back again.

It was still pretty quiet because the program didn’t start for another hour and 95% of the guests were in the front foyer indulging on appetizers and fancy drinks, so I took advantage of the situation and sat down to do another short meditation.

At 7:30 PM, the program started, and I introduced myself to other advocates as they sat at our table. The first couple of people were a woman named Christina Lord and a gentleman named Kevin Benevides and the three of us had a good time laughing and talking in between the speeches and during dinner; which was incredible because as I mentioned, they were also mental health advocates and we were V.I.P.’s for the night.

After the meal, Enza wanted a picture of all her V.I.P.’s, so we all went back out into the foyer to have our picture taken. Honestly, I’m not sure what was different about me, but I did great. I felt incredibly comfortable, especially after dinner when everyone got up to dance because another advocate, named Jen saw me sitting alone and came over to introduce herself. She and I talked until the music was over-powering our conversation and have since become Facebook friends.

The greatest thing that happened since I got the invite to the Hatsquerade and then went to the gala, is that somehow, I have changed. During my drive home, a bored teenager threw a rock at my car and caused about $500.00 damage. Normally that would have put me in such a bad place I would have needed my husband, Gary to come and pick me up and I would have spent weeks going down that rabbit hole.

Instead, I told myself I’d look at the damage to my vehicle when I got home and kept driving?! Say WHAT?! …this wasn’t the kind of behaviour that had become part of my normal since my PTSD diagnosis – this was more like how I acted before I got held up.

The more I drove, the more I felt like I was on a some sort of high and feeling like I could conquer the world and it was still there when I got home and it’s still there now, and it’s been four days. I posted on social media that I felt like the Grinch, but instead of my heart growing, my brain did, or maybe both grew, but who knows? All I know is that I feel like a different person, almost like I used to be before I got held up, only I’m a newer and improved version.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

http://www.hatsonforawareness.com/

https://www.facebook.com/HatsOnForAwareness/

https://www.mietcetera.com/

Wait For It… (approx. 4-5 min. read)

It’s been ages since I wrote a blog, but I feel like it’s time. Not only am I feeling like my brain is my friend again, but I also have this huge event coming up and if you’ve been following along, you know that I don’t do huge events. Heck, I don’t even do small events, but this one is really important, this one signifies that everything I’ve done regarding mental health; including what I’ve done for myself is starting to pay off.

As some of you know I decided to write a book about what it was like to live with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) about four years ago. I know, it’s taking me longer than I thought and I’m pretty sure the reason for that is because when I started, I had so much healing to do, but I’m getting close. When I started writing this book I didn’t know that I still had healing to do, because everything that I read about PTSD & C-PTSD told me that I would always feel hyper-vigilante, that I would always suffer from depression and other stress-related illnesses, and they were right.

Trouble was they forgot to mention that there were different levels of hypervigilance, depression, etc. Luckily, I found out over time, that if you do the “work,” you can get back to almost “normal.” It takes time and a lot of work; grueling work, but if you face your past, literally stare it in the face and scream back at all the nasty shit that happened, I honestly believe you will start to heal.

I balked at facing my past for a very long time because I never wanted to go through the things, I endured in the first place and facing my fears meant having to go through it all - again. This kept me deep inside my illness and my depression and I felt like I never knew what was really going on inside me, or who I was.

Instead, I did what a lot of people that have mental illness did and that was to spend decades trying to pretend that I was normal. As well as trying to convince myself that the thoughts that plagued my life were just lies and made up stories, as I’d been told by my parents.

Fortunately, so much has changed, especially in the last year and I feel like I have a new lease on life. Sure, I still have mental illness and I still get panic attacks and flashbacks, but I’m learning how to get out of, or past them faster and because of that I’m able to get on with living my life, instead of avoiding it.

Which brings me to the main reason for this week’s blog…

I have been invited to be a guest as a mental health advocate at this year’s annual Hat’s On For Awareness gala. “Hats On For Awareness is a local charity that raises funds to further the reach of mental health programs which enhance the lives of those living with and affected by mental illness and addictions.”

They believe “that mental health is a vital component to overall wellness, and we need to make it a priority in our personal, business and community lives. We need to raise awareness regarding these illnesses, consistently battle against the stigma they hold, and the stigma they hold, and fund the research and programs to truly achieve Mental Wellness For All.”

This is an incredible event and…

wait for it…

I said yes without thinking about it!

This is an amazing feat for me because if you’ve been following along, you know that prior to this event, I’ve always made excuses as to why I couldn’t go to something, but something in me has changed. I truly believe it’s because I haven’t had to defend myself to anyone in quite a long time. I’ve surrounded myself with people that love me for who I am and even though they don’t understand my mental illness, they try. Because of that, I have been able to go to therapy and work on getting over my past without any form of criticism and if you’re like me, you know that we get a lot of criticism We’re told to “get over it,” that “it” was in the past, and those statements make us try to “get over it,” instead of working on our traumas and getting on with our lives.

…whatever it is that’s changed, this past couple of months I’ve been out doing something at least four times a week, whether it’s going to the library, my DBT group, therapy, or to have coffee with friends. This is remarkable because a year ago, I was lucky if I felt well enough to get out of the house once a month.

Don’t get me wrong because I’m still having anxiety, especially about going to this incredible event, but it seems to be more controlled. Besides, the “Hatsquerade” is a gala to raise money for mental health, so if there’s anywhere I should feel safe, it will be at this event.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Links and References:

http://www.hatsonforawareness.com/

http://www.hatsonforawareness.com/?toEvent=true&activePost=32

Just in Case You Were Wondering What I've Been up to. (approx. 7-8 min. read)

It’s been ages since I’ve been able to write a blog and I figured it was time that I let you all know what’s been going on with me because I’ve been on a roller coaster ride like none other.

First off, I got some really nasty emails on Christmas day from the only members of my family that were still talking to me and it triggered something in me, and I ended up getting really sick. It started as horrendous pain in my hips and legs and then there was pain all over my body. Next I started to lose the use of my legs and it wasn’t long before I needed a cane for walking because I couldn’t lift my feet and had to drag them along the ground when I tried to walk. Then my mind started to go, and I couldn’t figure out what the words to things that were common in my everyday life, such as spoon, fork, coffee, bath, etc. It was horrendous.

Following that I started to lose the use of my hands, starting with my left one and by the beginning of May, trying to do anything with my hands was a struggle, especially things like holding a pen, or a cup of coffee. I tried to pretend that it wasn’t as bad as it was, but my husband Gary wasn’t being fooled at all and he told me later, that he was really worried that he was going to lose me.

When my symptoms first started I saw a physiotherapist, because I felt the pain in my hips was related to (all) the work we were doing on the house, but he told me he felt that my issues were systemic; my whole body, not an injury from building our house. So I left his office and got in touch with my family physician and over the next couple of months, I had 5 panels of blood done, a Lyme serology, an EKG, a full body x-ray and I had been put on the list for a full body MRI.

It had been two and a half months since my pain had started and I felt like a friggin pin cushion, but I finally had a diagnosis and that diagnosis was Lyme disease. I was so relieved because the pain that was running rampant through my body had been and still was unbearable. I had been to the emergency department three times in just over two months, but all three times they sent me home saying “there was nothing going on in my body that would cause me any pain,” and to take Advil for pain – if I needed it.

I waited a few days after I’d received the diagnosis from my physician before calling to find out when they were going to start treating me but she said she wasn’t sure. She went on to say that the public health department had called her; not only to scold her for doing a Lyme serology in the “middle of winter,” but to tell her they still weren’t willing to see me unless I tested positive a second time.

In North America we have a two-tiered test for Lyme disease and if you’ve read anything in the news you will also have read that the testing for Lyme is antiquated and extremely inaccurate. Currently it’s a two-tiered test, with one of the tests being an ELISA and the other being a Western Blot and if you don’t test positive for the first test; the ELISA, they don’t even do the Western Blot. Furthermore, they don’t very often get a positive on the ELISA and when they do, they make the patient do the test again, to make sure it isn’t a false positive.

This is what happened in my case and my family physician said I needed to do the test again in order to be seen by an infectious disease specialist through the public health department.  

I had started doing research on Lyme as soon as I got my diagnosis and I wasn’t surprised that they were making me jump through hoops, but I was starting to get pissed off. It was now the end of March and I’d been in excruciating pain for over three months and although I had a diagnosis, I was yet to be treated.

Two weeks after my Lyme diagnosis and almost four months after my symptoms reared their ugly heads, I got an appointment to meet with an infectious disease specialist. Unfortunately, she told me that my symptoms weren’t part of Lyme disease and even if they were, it was impossible for me to have Lyme disease because she said there were no ticks where I lived. I tried to tell her that I was pretty sure I’d been bitten by a tick when I travelled to New Brunswick in 2016, but she dismissed me like I was some sort of imbecile when I told her I’d only had flu-like symptoms; that I never saw a tick or a bulls-eye rash. What confused the heck out of me was when she said we needed to close the chapter on Lyme disease because it was something else.” I asked her what that something else was and she said she wasn’t sure, but she said they were going to do some tests in order to find out.

I left her office crying my eyes out because I’d been dismissed like a naughty child and I STILL didn’t have anything to help me with the pain I felt all over my body. I walked towards the front doors where Gary was waiting for me and when he saw me, he was fuming and wanted to head straight to our physician’s office, but he knew that after the way we’d been treated over the last three plus months it would only be a waste of time, so we headed back home …to wait for them to call and let us know what was next.

Another month and a half went by and I continued to decline, but even though I was leaving messages for the infectious disease specialist and my family physician, no one was returning my calls. I was starting to show symptoms of Alzheimer’s, such as memory loss, difficulty finding words and putting sentences together, and my husband and I were getting really fearful.

I researched as best I could and when all else failed, I joined a Lyme group on Facebook but when I read through the posts and found out that I wasn’t the only one not being treated for Lyme disease, I felt like there was absolutely no hope, and I started to give up.

Then one day shortly after I’d almost given up on getting any sort of treatment, I saw a post for bee venom therapy (BVT) on my Lyme group’s Facebook page and well - the rest is history!

It’s now been just over three months since I started BVT and I’m walking without a cane, my hands are almost back to normal and I’m speaking in full sentences again. And – wait for it… I’m writing again and not just blogs. I’m almost finished my survivors guide to living with PTSD, plus I’m working on a couple of other books; one being a fiction based on a true story, called “The Turquoise Lockers; A Story About Incest, Sexual Abuse and Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).”

Once again, I have come out on the other side of adversity. Despite (more) threats from nay-sayers and getting sick with another illness caused by the stress from said people, I have proven to myself that I’m not just a survivor, I’m a thriver. Additionally, going forward, I will no longer allow threats to stop me from living my life or telling my story, because after all, it is MY life, MY story and MY truth.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

P.S. I’m going on hiatus for a month so that I can (finally) finish my first book but if you need me, just send me an email @ https://www.davinalytle.com/contact

Links and References:

https://globalnews.ca/news/5453096/canadian-lyme-disease-cases-missed/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2078675/

https://www.canada.ca/en/public-health/services/diseases/lyme-disease/federal-framework-lyme-disease-conference/audio-recordings/public-forum-1.html - especially around 27:10

I Need to Ask a Favour... (approx. 1 min. read)

It’s been quite a while since I wrote weekly blogs and, in the beginning, I blamed it on the fact that Gary and I were building a house, but then I got sick. It started as a debilitating pain in my hips, then spread throughout my body and now I’m struggling to do everything from putting on my socks, to walking.

After months of doing blood tests and x-rays, I tested positive for Lyme disease and not just once because they made me do the serology twice to make sure it wasn’t a false positive.

As you may know the outcome for living with Lyme disease isn’t good, but I’m one hell of a fighter and I’m not going to let this get me down. I start intravenous (IV) antibiotics tomorrow, Thursday April 11, 2019 and I will be tethered to a PICC line for 21 days. They’ve told me there are lots of nasty side effects, but and it’s always a big but with me, if you send lots of positive thoughts and prayers, I truly believe that with your help, I’ll be able to overcome the side effects, as well as beat this incapacitating disease.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

I Really Need to Get Something off My Chest! (approx. 5 ½ - 6 ½ min. read)

Honestly, I’m not sure where to start but I know that I must get this off my chest.

I’ve always felt like the black sheep in my bio family, and I’ve even joked about it, but I didn’t know to what extent until it was confirmed in some emails, I received on Christmas day of last year (2018).

I already mentioned the emails in question in another blog** but instead of addressing them, I tried to do what my husband, Gary told me to do and that was to ignore them. After all, it was Christmas day and we’d just moved into our new home the night before and it was supposed to be a joyous time for us, not ill-fated, but back to the emails.

I opened them one by one and read the offensive words that lay before me. Each email confirmed that I had always been the black sheep and as I read through them, my heart went from being filled with Christmas love to feeling like someone had punctured it with a sharp sword. Not only did they say that I didn’t belong, but they also accused me of lying about my past; the worst thing was that they told me not to respond. If I did, they threatened they would seek legal advice and try and have me charged.

I closed the emails and as the tears started to pour down my face, I started sobbing …I always thought these family members would always have my back and they were the last of them, so that meant I truly was an orphan. Gary came over to me, put one of his hands on my back affectionately, and said what’s wrong babe? As I turned to look at him, he glanced at what I was reading and the next thing I know was that he was throwing up his hands in anger and asking me why I had opened something I knew was probably just another insult?

The next hour or so was spent arguing over my family and how they have treated me over the years, and if I’m completely honest, it’s what 95% of our arguments are about, but this time was different. This time he said that if I continued to let my family treat me like shit – he was done. He said that no matter what I do, they continue to attack me, and he said he wasn’t going to sit around while they killed me.

He was being a little dramatic, but I got what he was trying to say and that was that he believed the stress surrounding my family was the cause of my health issues and he suggested as he had in the past, to use the nasty emails as permission (from them) to finally move forward and get on with my life. So instead of answering the emails, I tried my hardest to ignore them.

As December turned into January and January turned into February, the words played over and over in my head like a loop in a sound machine stuck on play. As the months rolled by and we got into March, the need for me to respond only deepened, but not only had they threatened to take me to court if I responded, they also made stipulations as to how I could respond. So, I wasn’t quite sure what to do?

The stipulations they made were that I wasn’t allowed to respond to each individual one on one; that it had to be a “recorded mediation for further consideration,” their words, not mine. Additionally, it had to be recorded because they wanted to be able to replay it and look for “deviations,” because that’s how the police found out whether a person was lying or not.

Gary was totally against it, and he wanted, and still wants me to cut ties; once and for all. He’s known me and my bio family for over forty years and he believes that no matter what I say to “certain” family members, they will turn it around and make me look bad because that’s what they have always done in the past. Me, well, I always give people way too many chances and I couldn’t seem to let it go.

So, there we were in March and a health issue I had started with the end of December got progressively worse and I decided I better rid myself of some stress and you guessed it, I decided to start with the emails.

I answered the first one last Saturday; March 11, 2019, but because I used the word insults, the person told me that they weren’t going to read any further, and reminded me about the “recorded mediation,” being the only way of communicating. I amazed myself by showing an immense amount of strength and wrote back that if we weren’t going to communicate like adults then I felt that we were at an impasse.

Then I sent the second response and the only way I knew how that person felt, was that they kicked me out of a mental health group they were admin. for, and it made me wonder what had changed their feelings for me? Did they truly believe that I was making up my mental illness, like the rest of my bio family?

The third letter was the hardest to answer because I was pretty sure I was wasting my time, but I really wanted to resolve this issue; once and for all, so I sent that one as well, only to be completely blocked on social media by them.

…but and as you know, it’s always a big but.

I answered their emails and addressed their concerns and if they want to discuss anything further with me, I told them I’d do it one on one, but when it came to a “Bashing Davina session?” I endured those for decades every time I went to a family get together and going forward, I’ve decided that I will never take part in those kinds of sessions ever again.

…and I have to tell you that Gary couldn’t be more pleased!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.