Pushing My Limits. (approx. 2 min. read)

This past week was incredibly tough because I took myself completely out of my comfort zone and started guitar lessons. It was something I’d wanted to do for years, but the fear had kept me from it. And instead of being excited about learning something new, getting out of the house and meeting new people, I was in full trigger mode.

I couldn’t get my mind off things like would I be able to park my car close enough to the class? How far was I going to have to walk to get to my classroom once I got inside the college? Or how many people was I going to have to walk past? ...More importantly, what if one of them has a gun?! It’s a college after all, and for someone like me, all I could think about was that shootings happened in colleges.

When I got to the college, it was all I could do to get out of the car. I had talked a friend of mine to sign up with me, but they weren’t there yet.

...As I sat waiting my heart started to race, my body broke out in a sweat, and I headed into a full blown panic attack. I started to cry (not sure why), but I always start to cry when I get emotional. I got this intense pain in my chest and when I get heart pain, it always makes me question whether it’s a panic attack, or whether it’s a heart attack.

The next thing that happens to me is I can’t catch my breath, and my head starts to shake. I’m not sure if this shake is even visible to someone else but to me it feels like my head is going to detach itself from my neck. Then my body starts dripping this horrible liquid called stress sweat, which we all know is nothing like ordinary sweat, and I question what the heck I’m doing?! Why do I do this to myself, why do I put myself in such anxiety provoking positions, when I don’t have to?!

The reason... I think the only way to survive with this disease is to keep fighting back, and never give into it. I believe that if I push myself to where it starts to feel difficult for me, and then kind of back up a notch, I can definitely learn how to live a somewhat normal life and continue to be a PTSD survivor.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following,

Sleep Paralysis and PTSD. (approx. 2½ - 3 min. read)

I didn’t know this while my kids were growing up, but now that they’re adults, they’ve told me how hard it was growing up in a home with someone that had PTSD. They told me it was scarier for them to come into my room in the middle of the night after they’d had a nightmare than it was for them to stay in their own rooms, and console themselves. They said they would cower under the covers and call out to me instead of coming into my room because waking me up slowly wouldn’t elicit that panicked scream they always got when they startled me; especially at night.

It’s always the same nightmare. I am woken by a noise. I sit up and strain my ears to hear if someone’s in the house. I sit there for a few seconds trying to muster up the courage to go and make sure the doors are locked. I’m always in the house I grew up in and I always seem to be drawn to the back door. As I move through the kitchen and get closer to the door, I see that it’s open. I rush towards it quickly straining my eyes to see if I have enough time to lock the door before he ambushes me.

The trouble is when I get to the door, it won’t ever close; let alone lock. It either swings both ways like the doors in an old western movie; passing the latch completely, or it just won’t close all the way. It’s almost like its misaligned and although it comes to within a millimeter of closing, it just won’t latch shut. I push and strain, but no matter how hard I push it won’t close. I hear rustling outside and I turn and start running back towards my room. That’s when I wake up, or should I say, sort of wake up.

I can sense I’m back in bed, and I can hear him coming down the hallway towards my bedroom. I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s going to be on me, but I can’t seem to move. I try to scream, but it comes out as a whimper. I try to kick at him with my legs, but they’re frozen and won’t move.

I’m absolutely terrified and the horror of my situation makes me suck in my breath. All logic completely leaves my head, and I truly believe this time I’m going to die, but then I hear Xena, my “warrior princess” coming around to my side of the bed. She makes this guttural noise as she approaches me and I can feel, as well as hear her hot breathe on my face as she comes closer. She gently nudges me with her wet nose and then licks my face until I’m able to move and slowly all thoughts of the nightmare leave my head.

...Do you have someone to wake you when you’re in this state? Because whether it’s sleep paralysis, a nightmare, or both, it’s pretty horrible, and it makes it really hard to want to go to sleep.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Twelve Commandments. (approx. 2½ - 3 min. read)

Not only do we have to deal with ridicule, and distaste from people that don’t understand mental illness, we have to deal with ridicule, and distaste from ourselves. The constant beating up of ourselves that goes on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Names I wouldn’t even call a stranger, yet I’ve said them to myself thousands of times... Over, and over again... Loser, freak, fatso, idiot, stupid, jerk...

These are words I heard over and over growing up, and they continued to be pounded into me long after I left home. Whenever I was going through a tough time, I would tell myself it was my fault, and call myself any (or all), of those abusive names. I got really good at it, and I made sure I surrounded myself with people that would reiterate those words whenever I started getting down on myself.

It was almost like I found them comforting because those names were all I knew, and they were how I had come to think of myself. Until approximately a year ago when I read “The Secret,” and it really got me thinking I could turn my life around if I could just get rid of the negativity in my head, as well as the negative people in my life. I found what I like to call my twelve commandments, and I have them posted in my office, on my calendar in the kitchen, and on post-it notes throughout the house.

It hasn’t been a cake walk, and there are definitely days when I think saying commandments, or thinking positive thoughts are dumb (for lack of a better word), especially when I’m in the middle of a trigger, but it’s been the first year of my life when I can actually say I deserve to live.

I cut out the negative people in my life, and I don’t push myself to go into situations that cause me stress. I avoid watching the news or reading the paper because there are shootings, and stabbings every day, and depending where my head is at, hearing about a crime can throw me into a full blown trigger. Last but certainly not least, I say these commandments to myself almost daily.

1. Stop All Criticism (Accept yourself as you are)

2. Forgive Yourself (Let the past go)

3. Don’t Scare Yourself (Switch scary thoughts to something that gives you pleasure)

4. Be Gentle and Kind and Patient (Treat yourself as you would someone you love)

5. Be Kind to Your Mind (Gently change your thoughts, so there is no self hatred)

6. Praise Yourself (Tell yourself how well you are doing with everything)

7. Support Yourself (Find ways to support yourself)

8. Be Loving to Your Negatives (Lovingly release the old negative patterns)

9. Take Care of Your Body (Cherish and revere the temple you live in)

10. Do Mirror Work (Look into your eyes and say “I love you, I really love you,” at least once every day)

11. Love Yourself... Do it NOW.

12. Have Fun (Smile. Laugh. Rejoice.)

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

References:

These commandments were posted on Facebook without an author, so I’m not sure who wrote them, but if they're yours let me know. I want to thank you, as well as give you the credit for giving me some great tools to help turn my life around.

Guilt and Shame. (approx. 2 min. read)

During this past year and a half, I’ve been in the process of writing this blog and a book about living with PTSD, but I’m having a tough time telling the truth about my abusers, and who they are. I question myself daily on whether I should tell my story because I think telling the truth will make me just like them. I’m so afraid of causing them pain, or worse, mental disorders of their own, and that makes me feel guilt and shame constantly.

Which brings me to an article I read the other day that is making me rethink that theory. It was an article about guilt and shame and how a person can be victimized into feeling shame because that’s how their abuser controls them.

Talk about an epiphany! I’ve made almost every decision in my life based on how it will affect someone else. Not because I’m the kind of person to go around hurting people’s feelings, but because I’ve been a victim, and I’m so afraid to put that on anyone else. I am so afraid of hurting anyone, or their feelings; I tend to put everyone else’s feelings before my own.

Even when it came to the night I attempted suicide. I jumped in front of a vehicle only to jump out the other side because in that split second where they say your life flashes before your eyes, the driver’s life flashed before mine. In that split second, I saw the terror in his eyes and all I could think about was this poor innocent man being tormented by a life with PTSD, and that I would have been the cause of it.

That’s where the article about guilt and shame comes in. I’ve been living with guilt and shame all my life, and it needs to stop. I was a child when my road to PTSD started and I shouldn’t be blaming myself for what happened to me, not at all. I didn’t deserve the abuse, or the neglect and I definitely don’t deserve to be suffering in silence.  I’m the victim here and telling the truth about how I got PTSD isn’t victimizing anyone, it’s only protecting the next child abuse victim from feeling guilt or shame, or from living a life suffering in silence like I have done.

...Up until now.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

References:

https://www.myptsd.com/guilt-and-shame/122/

Xena - Warrior Princess! (approx. 2½ - 3 min. read)

A couple of years after I was diagnosed with PTSD, I got the courage to go and see one of my friends in England that also has PTSD. We met each other while we were on vacation in Jamaica the year of 911, and we've been like brother and sister (should be), ever since.

Up until meeting Pete, I had never heard of post traumatic stress disorder, but we sat up late one night talking about what it was, and how he ended up with the disease after fighting in the Gulf war.

While I was visiting him and his wife, there were a couple of times they left me alone in the house and it was then that I realized how much a dog could help me feel safer. Olly, their dog, would lunge at the door; barking voraciously at anyone that came close to the door, and it made me feel safe and protected even though I was in a strange place.

As soon as I got home, I decided I was going to start looking for the best breed of dog for the job, as well as trying to convince my husband why we should add a furry family member into our "empty nest." I had always liked German Shepherds, and when I found out they were one of the best canines to add to a family where there were going to be grand babies, I was sold. The next step was to find a breeder, pick out the new member of our family, and start training him or her.

It turned out to be a “her” and she is named after Xena, the warrior princess. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought a canine could impact my life and my disease so much. Not only does Xena bark when someone knocks at the door, or comes near the property, but she has learned how to pick up on my emotional state and has learned how to distract me. Whether I'm crying, the tone in my voice changes, or I'm whimpering during a nightmare; Xena comes to my rescue. 

She will nudge me with her nose, lick my face, or come and sit so close to me, she's actually leaning against me and she doesn't leave until my mood has changed for the better. In fact, she's become so good at sensing my moods, she'll come and stick her head under my hand and as I'm wondering what she wants, I'll realize there are tears streaming down my face, but I'm not making any sound.  Dogs truly are man's best friend, and she quickly became one of mine.

She is my warrior princess, as well as being my protector, and an amazing companion. I believe she has been (and still is), instrumental in helping me on my journey with PTSD and if you're looking for a companion to help you be a better survivor, I recommend looking for your own warrior princess, or prince.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

 *If you live in Canada, I would start here: http://www.nsd.on.ca/.

It's Time We Started Talking About It! (approx. 2 min. read)

I started writing a book about living with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and all I keep hearing, is “you’re a brave soul.”  ...Why do people think I’m a “brave” soul for talking about it?! Are they worried I will be alienated (even more) for coming out about my mental illness? Well I don’t care, it’s time we started talking about it. I’ve had post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) most of my life and I need to share what it’s been like, and how each day is still a challenge.

I’ve been alienated from people I believed would always have my back and going outside to do simple things like pick up a bag of milk is a daily challenge. I live how most people would call caged up (like an animal), and I have my curtains drawn most days. I used to think it was because I was afraid he’d be standing there when I opened them, but he’s been dead for months. And part of me knows it would be impossible for him to be standing there, waiting to finish me off, but another part of me just can’t get over the fear.

Everyone keeps telling me to get over it, that it all happened a long time ago and I should leave it in the past.  What they don’t understand is I suffered a trauma, in fact I suffered multiple traumas and my brain doesn’t work the same anymore. So for me, “getting over it,” isn’t an option.

Recent studies have shown that victims of things like sexual abuse, combat, or crime, experience a brain injury, and the structure of their brain changes.  The hippocampus, which is involved in handling stress, as well as learning and memory, actually changes physically. Furthermore, the medial prefrontal cortex, which is the part of the brain that regulates our emotional response to fear and/or stress, can also be impaired.

So the next time someone tells you to “get over it,” first of all tell them you are trying - with every beat of your freakin’ heart! And second, remember you are worthwhile and if “they” aren’t willing to accept you aren’t the same person anymore, turn to someone that will.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.