It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn

Today is the start of something new. I have so many thoughts spinning through my head because I'm so excited!!

The past few months have been difficult for me. I've felt blunted and numb for the most part. I had the best birthday and best Christmas of  my life, but other than that, I was in some kind of emotional limbo. I've worked through so much in the past year and a half and promptly found myself stuck. I was experiencing a very real "dark night of the soul". (Poem here. Background here.) I thought the new year was the perfect time to move forward, to pull myself up out of the hole I was living in and trying to crawl out of for the past several months. And, true to my nature, I expected immediate results, even though I know better that it doesn't work that way. However, I'm realizing that I have a touch of over-achiever in me (just a touch). So I pushed ahead. I kept rolling things around in my head, waiting for something to click.

I feel like I've taken a deep breath of fresh spring air
after a long, dark winter.

Today, something clicked. Of course it's all been happening under the surface gradually, but I was quite "feeling" it yet. In my inner work, Faye was showing up a little less frequently. Today, she and I traded places. I went to walk across the bridge to my safe place, and watched myself go form Faye's perspective. Ultimately, she is my ideal version of myself. And I'm slowly merging with her, although today's experience made this more evident. Later, I envisioned a warm bright white glow in the center of my chest. It was a feeling I had experienced strongly over a year ago. It was so pervasive then, I had two people ask me if I was pregnant. I've missed that glow so much. Now that I've had a taste of it yet again, I'm clinging to it as tightly as I can. I prayed all the way home from therapy for God to help me maintain it. 

I also heard this song on the way home:

(Lyrics here)

Incredible!! It says everything I'm feeling! I love life's little "coincidences" like that. I say "coincidences" in quotes because I generally do not believe in them. Another little coincidence...She wears a beautiful flowy white dress in the video just like the one Faye wears.

A few other thoughts that have come from today:

-I realized I don't need to find my biological father. I'd like to. It would be exciting and interesting. But I don't think I'm going to seek him out anymore. He's just not a necessary part of my life anymore. I don't need a father now. 

-I suddenly feel like I will be more capable of love. Not that I haven't loved people up til now, but I haven't shown it well. I've been needing love and support from others so much, that I think I've just been taking. I've been sucking the love right out of people. With moving forward and finding my own happiness, I can finally give. I can be more present in my relationships. I can really relate to others on a whole new level. It doesn't always have to come back to my little world. 

-If you've spent time around small children, you may have played a little game with them where they wrap their arms or hands around your ankles and you try to walk, dragging them along. I've been trudging along with my "past" and my "issues" wrapped around my ankles. Today, I am kicking off my boots. They can cling to those all they want, but I am choosing to run barefoot!

Ok 2012. I'm ready for you and the rest of my life now.

Rachel

Managing PTSD

I've been thinking a lot lately about how well my PTSD has been managed now compared to a year ago. Even though I've been a little more on edge and emotional lately because I'm dealing with some new things in therapy, overall I have a sense of calm and peace that I never did before. Part of me is relieved and happy to be able to breathe deeply, and part of me is confused. It's still a new feeling when you consider most of my life was spent feeling anxious and on edge. It feels like I've let go of something, which is good, but still feels like a loss in some way. I know that doesn't make sense to someone who hasn't been there, but it's true. We all cling to what we know, even if it's unhealthy. I think that's part of what makes change so difficult.

But now I can sit in the study and do my homework. No TV, maybe some music. And everything has been done on time. Again, that may not sound like much to some, but I have been struggling with this since third or fourth grade. And now I have straight A's again. That hasn't happened since the struggle began. After this semester, if my calculations are correct, I will need to take my science class and then I will be a college graduate. Although this has been a goal for quite some time, I've never been able to see the light at the end of the tunnel...until now. 

And the thing is, I can't even offer many practical tips for managing PTSD. The "practical" advice has never worked for me. I needed to go much deeper. After a year in therapy, the changes happened organically. You can't force yourself to change. It takes time. I don't want to say I'm totally in the clear yet, but I have made so much progress.

In other news, I've been trying to come up with a name for my "happy place" because I despise calling it that. I was watching Lord of the Rings this morning. When Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship meet with the elves after surviving the Mines of Moria, they find themselves in Lothlorien. It looked almost exactly like my happy place! I actually used an image from this scene back when I started writing about it (Storybook Forest). According to "The Thain's Book", Lothlorien "was a place where time seemed to stand still, a waking dream of the ancient days of the Elves". It was a "place of great beauty and peace". The name Lothlorien means dreamflower. Unless I stumble across something better soon, I think I found a winner.

Lothlorien

Lastly, I have been working on creating a support group for women who are survivors of child sexual abuse. And it is finally official. I'm nervous, mostly that no one will show up, but excited too. I finally feel like I'm really doing something with my past to help people. If this run doesn't work out (I'm trying it for 6 weeks) I think I will try again in January, after the holidays. Please take a moment and check it out here: Support Group. Oh, and do take a moment to listen to the song there. It is so beautiful it moved me tears - not that that's saying much lately, but watch it anyway!

Rachel

Rattled

I'm struggling.

As suspected a couple weeks ago, I'm getting closer to facing the sexual abuse. I cry about it far easier than I ever did in the past. It happened again today. Have any of you seen the "rape analogy" going around Facebook recently? I was worried it was going to be a tasteless joke, but it wasn't at all. Here's the link.

I made a comment on Facebook about the awful things a defense attorney will say in that kind of situation. Then I thought about how it's not always an attorney being paid to say those things. There are "average" people walking around that believe those things. They believe a woman "asked" to be assaulted. That they may be complaining now, but they actually enjoyed it. That the woman has some kind of ulterior motive or bone to pick with the man. That was the main argument in my case. My mom and dad were going through an ugly divorce and the defense, meaning my dad and his attorney, said that my mom and I "cooked up" the allegations so that my mom would win complete custody of my sisters. I wasn't in the court room for most of the case aside from my testimony and the closing statements. The prosecuting attorney and detective warned me that the defense wouldn't be kind, and they were right. Even though I knew it was his job, I had to fight to stay seated and not stand up and scream at him. It was a horrible experience. But do you know whats  worse?

When your own family believes those things.

My sister believed my dad that my mom and I made it up. He told my sisters that we were going to "cook something up" before I even told anyone, so to her it made complete sense. He said it would happen and it did.  My own sister. There was a friend of the family who also chose to believe this, and while that hurt, it was easy to cut her out of my life and move on. But my sister was there. She knew he was crazy, violent, abusive, manipulative and angry. But all she could see was her family being torn apart, and someone had to be blamed. It couldn't be him - he wanted to stay home, to work things out. 

My Bruised Heart by ~murtada-king on deviantART

On a related note, I have been thinking about how difficult it is to really face what happened to me and how horrifying it all was. So I seek validation from outside sources. No matter how much I get, it's never enough. No matter how many people I tell the story to, how many people are shocked by or how many people tell me how strong I must be to have survived, I need more. The only way (at this time) I know to face it is be reliving the memories, which would only lead to retraumatization. Part of me feels like the people that should really get it, my family, do not. (This is not about everyone in my family by the way.) Right now, the pain of that realization feels fresh. What comes to mind is that my heart is bruised. When I most needed their support to heal my heart, they assumed I "had Aaron" and their job was done. After all those years of abuse, don't you think that is an awful lot put on one person? Don't get me wrong, he's handled it beautifully (I swear, I don't know how I got so lucky), but I, like every other human being, need a support system. I can't help but feel I would be more at peace, content and generally happier if I had that. I have Studdly Hubby's family now, but that relationship is still growing. I have trouble depending on other people in some ways, and so I haven't reached out to them as much as I probably could. It's a difficult spot to be in to gripe about not having it and then not reaching out and taking it when it's offered.

But I digress.

During my inner work yesterday, I came across a memory/flashback. I saw myself standing in the basement, and my dad was pushing his finger in my anus. I've had these graphic and ugly mental images come up for, and quickly try to think about something else in an attempt to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I had to end the experience and open my eyes.

The whole thing left me rattled, for lack of a better word. I'm feeling vulnerable. Paper thin. I'm getting closer and closer to the memories and it's terrifying. I'm glad I've stayed in therapy this long, because clearly there is work yet to be done that I cannot and should not do alone. 

So that's where things stand for now. I do miss blogging, but I've really had to make schoolwork a priority, so something had to give, and unfortunately it was frequent blogging. I'm still here, with plenty to write about though!

Rachel

The Next Layer

I'm not even sure where to begin tonight...

My mood - This has been a rough several weeks for me. I could feel something starting to bubble below the surface. I was really emotional and weepy. My mood has slowly slid into a darker place since then. This past week/weekend has been the worst so far. I've been crying at the drop of a hat, often for no particular reason. I've been talking to Simone about it, and we both agreed that something was going on, but it was hard to say what. It seemed as if my subconscious was trying to protect me from something. Often, in traumatic situations, the psyche will create a "protective self" that is only useful during the trauma. However, old habits die hard and that protective self doesn't know that its job is done. This seemed as if it could be a direct correlation to the dream I had about the dead woman. A sense of dread kept me from exploring the situation further.

Last week in therapy, I was talking about some of the abuse. I became abnormally emotional when I related how my dad would put the responsibility on me to stop the abuse. After he was done, usually after he ejaculated, he used to apologize, say it would never happen again, but to just say "no" if he ever tried again. Obviously, I tried that, and it never worked out too well. When he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, the abuse stopped for about a year when I was 16-17. I thought I was finally home-free (from that part of the abuse anyway) until his treatments were done and he got his libido back. I fought harder than ever to "just say no" and was devastated when I lost the battle. In therapy today, I commented that I couldn't remember the first time it happened after that year, but suddenly recalled sobbing in my bedroom. Honestly, its hard for me to even think about it further without becoming emotional. Besides my family letting me down, it has been the greatest disappointment of my life thus far...

So I think there may be two things at play here. First, I was taught, in a very big way, that just when I think things are going to be ok, everything will come crumbling down. Just when I started to believe that it wasn't going to happen anymore, and was growing stronger and stronger in my belief that I could stop it if it started again, I lost.  So now, when things are going well in my life, you can almost set your stopwatch for the inevitable fall.

The second thing I realized on my drive home tonight. I think I am actually starting to face the abuse. I've been facing the after affects, but not the abuse itself. I think that may be a major part of the next "layer" I have going on. I usually don't cry so easily when talking about it, and even when I did this last time, I didn't let myself let go and "cry it out". I composed myself. So I know there are more tears there, waiting...

This is much bigger and nicer than the one I
visited, but you get the idea...

I revisited the dream with the dead woman in my inner work last week. I tried to get closer to investigate, but the rungs on the ladder kept snapping in half every time I stepped on them. My protective self did not want me to go any further, emotionally or even in the dream. I did some more inner work today, in which Simone led me to a house. I walked from my "happy place" (working on a new name for that...) to my safe place and saw a house plopped down in the sand to the left (to the right are the cellar doors). The house was white, with aluminum siding and black shutters. It was very typical and blase - nothing that would grab your attention. The inside smelled like it had been closed up for quite some time. It had a few furniture pieces, but nothing ornamental, as if though nobody lived there. Simone asked me to look for a message of some sort. I noticed some writing appear on the wall to the left. It said simply "Why are you here?" Not really sure myself, I responded by writing on the wall "I'm exploring..." I then asked if there was a message for me and got the response "Keep looking..." *On a side note, a house can often represent one's self.*

From there, I walked into a large empty room and looked out the windows at farm country. As I walked closer, a vicious dog barked at me from outside. I jumped back and headed to the stairs on the other side of the room. I got the sense that I had "beat" my protective self, that I had gotten inside before she could stop me, so I was free to explore. I walked up the stairs and saw the hallway from the house on Monroe St. I was drawn to my old bedroom. It was pink and deliciously girly. My 12-year old self showed up and seemed to be doing ok. I realized I needed to be with my 17 year self, who was completely devastated that the abuse was continuing. She wasn't coming to me, so I realized I needed to be with her. Suddenly, I was in my bedroom in the basement, holding her and letting her sob. I let her cry it out for a few minutes, then shared with her that it was all over. That "this" wasn't reality. I waved my arm, and our surroundings disappeared like a crumpled up backdrop. We were left in a blank white space. From there, I took her back to my bedroom where I began. I shared with her all the little things in my life that I had that I knew she dreamed about. I was free and independent. I was someone she dreamed of being but would barely recognize as herself. I was a woman and no one was going to make choices for me like that ever again.

I always find it funny that when I start posts with a comment like "I don't know what to write" or " I don't know where to begin", I quickly figure it out...and then some! I have some other things on my mind to share on here, but I think I have enough for now.

Rachel

Peace and Quiet

I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed right now. A storm has suddenly blown in, bringing with it a 20 degree temperature drop (which around here means its about 80). The room is dark except for the glow from my laptop screen. The only noise is the sound of my nails striking the keys and the storm. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees that line the road right outside my window. The branches sway, happy for a break from the sun and heat, as are we all. I can hear the aluminum siding on my apartment building creaking under the pressure of the wind. The rain is pattering down on the cars. The thunder echoes.

My first instinct when I got home from my brunch date this morning was to get into some comfy clothes and turn on the TV. Well, I did the first one, but something about this room in this storm felt so peaceful, I ignored the impulse. I take a deep breath and focus on the quiet. Even though there is a storm outside, this is abnormally quiet for me. Usually I at least have the TV on while flipping through multiple websites. Usually, this much quiet makes me twitch. I can't stand it...It's like I'm panicking that I'll be left alone with my thoughts.  But after nearly a year of therapy and inner work, I'm suddenly discovering that it's not so scary. I still feel a bit of that impulse to turn on the TV, but I'm grateful for this moment. 

It's a new sensation to just "be", and I suppose I'm cheating by blogging, but it's still progress.

Rachel

On Listening to Your Inner Voice

A little something I submitted to Bliss today...

In the latest O Magazine, Oprah ran a piece on listening to your sixth sense.  You can find the article here. Anyway, it was a bit of an Aha Moment for me as I realized this was something I've been learning to do, without having put it into so many words.

I started therapy almost a year ago. Part of any good therapy requires getting to know yourself better. As part of that process, it becomes much easier to hear that "little voice" inside, although the more you listen to it, the louder she gets.

A year ago, that little voice was present, but I did not believe in her, which ultimately meant I didn't believe in myself. In general, I think this modern age teaches us to filter her out - to listen to the rational mind. That part that tells you your little voice is being ridiculous or fanciful. That tells you to ignore your gut feelings.

In spring of 2010, a former co-worker referred me to a marketing position. I was currently working part-time at a women's fitness center and selling Avon in my spare time. That was the only marketing experience I had. My gut told me that I wasn't right for this job. I had no clue where to even begin on something like this. But my husband is a full-time student so we really needed the money. When I first interviewed for the job, I was very honest about my lack of experience in marketing. In the end, they narrowed it down to 2 applicants, including myself. They gave the job to the other girl. I was horribly disappointed but the experience made me realize I knew to look harder for a new job for financial reasons. About a month later, I got a call that the girl that got the job had already quit. This should have been a big red flag, but again, money talks. I felt like it would have been selfish of me to not take the position.

So I gave it my all.

Five months later, I found myself in therapy for "anxiety". Even though I'm a generally friendly and likable person, I found myself going to marketing stops and too paralyzed to get out of the car. My boss was not very supportive and was putting a lot of pressure on me to get referrals for the business. This made it harder and harder to do my work well. I thrive on praise, not criticism. It turned into a vicious cycle. I was feeling more and more guilty for not doing my job well. Then my hours got cut because the business wasn't doing as well as the owners would have liked.

It was then that I realized my "little voice" was right on the money. This was not the right job for me. I decided it was time to find a new job. I decided I was going to stay til my year anniversary for the experience, however within the week, I knew I couldn't last that long. I decided to get out as soon as possible. I found a new position in about a week and a half. This time, I listened to my inner voice that told me this was the right move at the right time. And I couldn't be happier with that decision.

If you often find yourself ignoring your own inner voice, I would strongly encourage you to try to listen to her and see what she's saying. In the end, she's always right. You just have to trust yourself.

New Territory: Part 2

Off to dreamland...

In Part 1 of this post, I shared a couple dreams I've had lately. The final in this trifecta of  dreams was a bit more vague than the first two. I know there was a lot to it, but when I woke up, all I know is that my house was on fire, and there was someone there with me. I believe it was a female, although I never really got a good look at her. 

Now comes the reason these posts are entitled "New Territory". Simone suggested I do some inner work to "return" to the dream. Instead of going straight to my happy place, I planned to go to the house. On the way, something unusual happened. I found myself looking into a forest. There stood a little girl, me at around 4 years old, wearing a dress and clutching a teddy bear. She was looking up, as light seemed to be streaming down upon her. After a moment, my actual self walked in hugged her. I got the feeling that the light pouring down was instilling in her the skills to survive her future and protect her actual self. This was actually a very beautiful image, one I hope to get down on paper. I started a pencil sketch, but I'm not particularly skilled in the visual arts!

From there, I moved on to the house in the dream. I was standing in the bedroom that I recognized to be from the first dream I had. I took in my surroundings and saw a wardrobe. At first I thought this was strange - how many bedrooms have a wardrobe instead of a closet? Then it dawned on me that it was the same wardrobe I had in the last house I lived in with my family. As I continued to look around, I saw the bed I had at that time as well as the end table I had been using as a night stand. I knew there was someone to my right, but wasn't able to see her. It was almost as if there was a void where she should have been. Although my room was well lit, the door was open and I could the flames throughout the rest of the house. The strange thing is, they didn't seem to be burning anything...they were just "there". 

Suddenly, an image appeared in the doorway. It looked my dad, and at the same time didn't. His face seemed smooth and young, and he seemed small and thin even though he was wearing his clothes and had his hair and facial hair. He came towards me and grabbed me between my legs. I pushed him back and said in a strong voice "You need to stop. I don't have time for this!" Of all things to say!! As I pushed him back, I stepped out into the hallway, seeking an exit. I saw a stairway leading downstairs and felt like I was in the house on Monroe St. It didn't feel safe to go that way for some reason. I looked back and saw the "image" standing where I had pushed him, simply watching me. I walked back into my room and looked around again. There were two windows, on opposite sides facing each other. I didn't look out one of them, but outside the other I could see that I was on the second floor and down below were firemen. I also sensed that there were others. No one seemed panicked, but they all seemed aware that I was there.

It's hard to analyze every aspect of this particular experience because there was so much going on. I plan on coming back to it, partly because I want to talk about it more with Simone, and partly because I am too tired tonight to process it anymore thanks to jet lag. Perhaps there will be a Part 3!

Rachel

New Territory: Part 1

For whatever reason, I have not shared many of my dreams on here, even when they seem somewhat significant. I've always been of the belief that dreams were random pons firing in your brain when you're asleep, and sometimes related to whatever was on your mind before you went to sleep. Now that I've gotten more in touch my subconscious, I no longer believe that. I don't think you can necessarily take dreams at face value. For example, if you dreamed you were kissing your ex, it doesn't necessarily mean you want to leave your husband and have sex with your ex-boyfriend. However, if you spent some time really getting to know yourself and understand a little bit about the psyche, you may be better able to understand some of these dreams.

A rotunda... similar, although much smaller in my dream.

I bring this up because I have had 3 dreams recently that were particularly interesting to me. In the first dream, I saw a young woman who had hung herself. She was hanging from a rotunda type area in a building which looked like an area where I work. She was wearing a long white dress, very old-fashioned looking. I started to climb the rungs on the wall to the right of her. I got several feet off the ground when I was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. I looked up and over my shoulder at the woman. I sensed that if I went any further, I would be in danger. I hesitated, wanting to climb further, but instead I climbed back down.

When I told this dream to Simone, she explained that sometimes the psyche takes on a protective role when an individual experiences some kind of trauma. My "actual self" had to be cut off in a sense so that she would not be harmed by the horrors of my reality. Now that I am no longer in danger, I no longer need that level of protection. But my psyche doesn't know that. So it sends me these images and roadblocks to interfere with progress, from getting too close to that area of my self that was protected. This is where many people get "stuck" in therapy and quit. 

There are several things that could be going on here for me. Although this dream came about right before I started to explore my sensuality and sexuality more, I can't help but feel there is a connection. When I was being abused, I had to completely shut down that side of myself. When I was being forced to masturbate on command, I couldn't allow myself to feel any pleasure at all. I couldn't allow my body to betray me in that way. And so I turned it to stone whenever he was near. After a few years of that, it can be difficult to completely rewire. I'm thrilled to say that I am able to orgasm so I don't think it's as bad as it could be. But I know it can be better. And my psyche may realize that I have this desire to finally let go, to finally feel everything. It may be in full alarm mode, warning me to go back before I do feel!

The second dream I had was about my biological father. My mother gave me 2 photos, one was my bio-dad, and the other I sensed was my brother (one I had never known about). The photo of bio-dad was in black and white. The man in it looked like he may have been a pilot, perhaps in the air force. I got that sense that it was from around WWII. I realize this makes no sense whatsoever, but that's the way it was. I couldn't really see the photo of my brother, I just knew that was what it was. When my mom gave me the photos, she also warned me not to seek out bio-dad because he's a member of the clergy now. Of course I was going to ignore her advice, and so I booked a flight to Florida, which is where he was living at the time. The next morning (in the dream), I woke up to a text message from my mom. She said to not oversleep because my flight was at 7:05am. I knew I had plenty of time so I got up and started getting things ready to go. Suddenly I realized it was 7:33am. I had missed my flight completely. I was devastated. Then I realized that the house I was in was on fire. I began to search for a way out and saw firemen and others outside the second floor window.

It's no secret that I want to find my biological father so it has been on my mind lately. I keep thinking I want to call the courthouse and request my adoption records, hoping for a clue. But I always "forget" until it's too late in the day to make the call. I feel like something is holding me back, although I'm not sure what. Perhaps this "forgetting" is similar to sleeping in in the dream. I had sabotaged my chance at meeting him. I don't know. It kind of makes sense though. As for the house being on fire, a house can sometimes represent your conscious. I'm still thinking about that one...

There is more to this whole story, but I think this is enough for one post. In the meanwhile, I would love to hear your opinions and dreams and their meanings! Have you ever had a dream that you felt was significant in some way?

Rachel

Fresh Air

Even though my dad had been "squished" in one of my last adventures in inner work, there is still work left to be done. So this week I returned.

I called upon the "younger me's" as I had before. This time I was only able to meet with two of them, the 17 year old and the 12 year old. In the past, the 17 year old had been very angry. This time it seemed like she was actually able to take a deep breath and allow herself to breathe. The three of us turned and started to walk towards the cellar doors when something unusual happened.

11 or 12 years old. Check out the wallpaper! Yikes!

There is a picture of myself around 12 years old, standing in my parents' bedroom in a blue and white striped shirt. Whenever I picture myself at that age, I see that picture. As we were walking, she and I were suddenly in that room. The strange thing is, I'm not sure if I was her, or if I was behind her, watching. It's very complicated because in my mind's eye, I tend to have an "over-the-shoulder" view of things. In memories, dreams, etc., I am watching myself. That's why it was hard to tell what was going on here. 

Anyway, I watched her walk out of the room and then saw my dad standing on the landing to the stairs on the left. He was masturbating into a kitchen pot. To make things more complicated, I was aware that my other 12 year-old self was sitting downstairs in the living room, where he was directly in her line of vision. The self that I was with upstairs then stepped forward and popped him with a pin. He deflated faster than the wicked witch of the west.

After this little detour, we were all standing at the top of the cellar doors. We walked down and through the massive door, which is now always open. The first thing I noticed is that there was at least 6 inches of water on the floor. It was sloshing gently, the door that had been keeping my dad locked up swaying back and forth with the movement of the water. I walked over to it and looked inside. The sun was shining in through a window, illuminating the empty room and the air smelled incredibly fresh and clean, which he never did. It was as if though he had never been there. 

I turned around and saw another door open. It was to a room I had explored in the past, and it all looked the same. The door directly to my right was closed, but it had a window. I looked in and saw my mom, lying on a cot. She wasn't asleep, but seemed to be staring off into the distance, seemingly very depressed. I left that alone, and turned the corner at the end of the hallway. I went down a few stairs yet another hallway. I entered the very first door and discovered a room full of furs! They were incredibly soft and reminded me of Char. I can only imagine that this is related to my exploration in sensuality and that the other rooms in that hall would be filled with a variety of other things directly related to specific senses.

After I felt content that I had explored enough for one visit, we all came back to my happy place.

There was a lot going on here for one session! I've never done any kind of inner work within my inner work. That was totally unexpected, and not really "guided" by me or Simone. It just came out of nowhere. Also, I couldn't help but notice that I didn't care if my dad showed up or not. I really didn't feel threatened by his presence at all. That being said, as I was writing this, it occurred to me that maybe he was gone because he was out of his REAL prison cell. I knew this was illogical, but I looked up his prison profile page anyway, just for good measure. When I saw his picture, I felt my tummy flip over. I instantly recognized the look on his face and knew that he was angry and annoyed when the picture was taken. I felt uncomfortable, but ok.

I'm always fascinated by the inner work aspect of therapy. It's amazing to me that all of this is inside my mind. But I couldn't just sit down at my computer and make it up on the spot. It really is an experience that takes place with my eyes closed. If I would have read any of this a year ago, I wouldn't believe it was written by me!!

Rachel

Group Hug

When I feel like I'm getting a lot of support, understanding and love from people, I feel like I'm getting a big hug. Like my inner child is receiving the love she so longs for, and her natural light can shine through. I felt that way today. 

After I initiated wearing teal for National PTSD Awareness Day on Facebook, I had people let me know that they were doing just that. When I went into work, my co-worker commented that people don't generally have a lot of teal around their house if it's not a color they normally wear. All she had was a badge real. Luckily, I had thought ahead and brought my spool or teal ribbon with me and offered to let her have some. When I walked down the hallway later, I saw that she had her entire department wearing the ribbon. I was so thrilled I wanted to hug them all! She told me that everyone in the room now knew what PTSD was. How awesome is that?!

Honestly, I have never worked in a place with this many amazing co-workers. There's a few stinkers in the bunch, and we have our share of problems, but I love it. I feel so blessed by them and by all of my readers. 

Also, my last post was featured in the "Life" section on BlogHer, a massive women's blogging community. Please check it out here! I didn't get paid for it or anything like that, but I finally feel safe  to say:

I'm a writer.

Trust me, that's a big deal in Rachel Land.

Thanks again to all who wore teal or shared any kind of information on PTSD. 

Rachel

*Squish*

A couple days ago, I did some more inner work in therapy. I knew the time was going to come when I would need to face Dad again in therapy so that was the plan for this particular day.

I had some trouble getting to my "happy place" this time, perhaps because it had been a while. My mind kept wandering to other topics, but eventually I was able to reel it in. When I finally arrived, my actual self was there, and I immediately called upon the "army of me" - all the representations of myself at different times in my life. I led them on to the  area below my safe place. We walked down the stairs and through the doors to the main hallway.

As soon as we entered, Dad was standing in front of us in a green plaid shirt and blue jeans with his penis exposed. Immediately, the eyes of all the other me's clamped shut with something resembling cast-iron eyelids. Have you ever seen an old baby doll, where here eyelids aren't really attached, but slid back over their eyeball? It was very similar to that, but heavy and almost mechanical. I needed to find a way to protect them but keep them with me, and so this is what I came up with.

As I stood there, trying to decide the best course of action, I heard my therapist say something about deflating him with a pin as an option if he seemed to be looming over me, larger than life. So I did, but he came right back after that, although this time with his pants zipped.

I looked at him and started to get upset. I told him that I, and those with me, deserved better than the way he treated us. I told that I didn't care what he had been through in his past. If he had been hurt, he should know how it feels. As I was yelling at him, I realized I was growing larger. I grew to gigantic proportions, until I was looming over him so far that he looked the size of a cockroach. I looked down at him and stomped down on him. He was completely squished. All that remained was a black blob and green guts.

I herded my little army back up the stairs and to my happy place. I reassured them that I would be back. I don't think I'm done with him yet. Even though I destroyed him, it felt very anti-climatic. Besides, they do say cockroaches are near impossible to kill. At the same time, it's the closest I've gotten to a physical confrontation, so it's still progress!

Rachel

Jesus and E.T.

Last Friday night I had some more drama with my family. I'm not going to go into all the details here, but I will say I was feeling particularly in need of comfort. Studdly Hubby was there for me, but I needed some extra nurturing. So I headed to the tub for a bubble bath. I put on some music and lit some candles to help me relax.

I wanted to do some "Inner Work" -  to go to a place of healing and beauty. It took me a while to get to my "happy place". My mind kept wandering from one thing to another, but eventually, I stepped into that familiar landscape.

The first thing I noticed was how I looked. Everything was normal, except for a light shining through my chest. The best way I can think to describe is going to sound a bit blasphemous, so bear with me. Have you ever seen that painting of Jesus where his heart is shining through his robes? No? Here's the one I'm talking about:

Now, do you remember the end of Steven Spielberg's "E.T" when E.T.'s heart starts to glow? Here's a reminder:

I think you see where I'm going with this. Combine the two, and you'll get an idea of what I was seeing. I felt like my heart was glowing through my chest, like it's only protection was tissue paper thin. It felt exposed, but very alive. I looked up, and my "actual self" was standing in her usual place, beckoning me to come closer. Her heart was glowing and exposed as well. 

We embraced, heart to heart. She reassured me that it was ok for my heart to feel like that. After years of numbing myself physically and emotionally, it was time for my heart to come back to life! 

Maybe that's why I've been especially emotional lately. I'm opening my heart and it's allowing me to feel on a whole new level. I feel like I'm PMSing all the time, minus the agitation. I cried during a cat food commercial, I cried when Lauren sand a song to her mother on American Idol, I cried when I read an article about the deadly tornado in Missouri and I cried when Rachel and Curt got to sing on a Broadway stage on Glee. Today, I felt like our typical little jokes were just a little funnier. I felt a little more light hearted and silly. And don't tell anyone, but I even enjoyed sex a little more! 

Could this be the start of yet another chapter in my healing journey? Or was it that extra cup of coffee I had this morning? Time will tell!

Rachel

What is Inner Child Work?

I have been writing about a lot of the inner work I've been doing since I've started therapy. I've briefly explained how this works, but I feel like it could use another visit.

First of all, it is not something I am often able to do without guidance.  There are some things I don't pursue alone intentionally so that my therapist, Simone, can be on hand to help me sort through the emotions that I encounter. Generally, this isn't something I would recommend trying unless you are currently in therapy.

Usually, Simone and I will discuss what our goals are for the session. It could involve asking questions, exploring a new place or looking for something specific. After we determine what to look for, I relax into the back of the couch in her office and close my eyes. She walks me through some guided deep breathing/relaxation exercises. The first time I did this, she told me to imagine myself in a safe, comforting place. She told me to observe the place - what it felt like, looked like if there were any people or animals there, etc. I found myself on a barren coastline, with no water. Behind me was a sand dune. After a few minutes, Simone tells me to take my time, and come back whenever I was ready. I then open my eyes and share with her everything I experienced and we discuss it.

This is pretty typical.

Over time, my safe place has expanded to include my "happy place" - a lush forest, an underground area which seems to represent the archives of my mind, as well as meeting my "actual self" - a representation of my most inner self, myself at different ages, and my dad. Some of it has been uplifting and inspiring - I've been able to ask my "actual self" questions that I was struggling with. Sometimes she had an answer right away and sometimes she didn't. Other times, it's been very difficult to deal with the resulting emotions. 

These experiences vary greatly from person to person. The places they go to, the things they see and those they encounter are as varied as the movie selection on Netflix. (But not the Instant Play options, because they suck.)

If you were to try this on your own, it may be difficult to fully process everything on your own. You can have revelations by doing your own inner work, but its what you do with that revelation that makes the difference. 

I hope this has helped to answer some questions. I realize it may just bring up others, such as Where did all this come from? For that, I'm going to point you to an explanation of Jungian psychotherapy, because I'm not an expert on that [yet]. If you have any other questions though, please ask!!

Rachel

P.S. Because I heard this the other day (on Glee) and it reminded me of my "happy place", I thought I'd stick it on the end here:

Come with me
And you'll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you'll see
Into your imagination

We'll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we'll see
Will defy
Explanation

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be

What's up with my mood...

If you've been following along with my blog for the past couple months, you know I've been having some mood issues. I've got really depressed, but have been slowly coming back out of it. A week ago, I had what I believe was a very small panic attack at work. I was worried about several things, and they all just started to get to me at once. I felt like my throat was closing in on me. Once I became aware of that, I started to panic even more and my breathing became more shallow. I talked to Aaron on the phone for a minute and had to fight back tears. I didn't want to lose control of my emotions at work. So I kept on doing my job the best I could, but eventually ended up in the bathroom, standing over the sink and just letting the tears drip down, sobbing silently. I started to feel better after that, but was really shaken by the whole experience.

Thankfully, I had therapy the following Monday. This gave me a chance to really explore what was going on. Back in March, I had a frightening experience during my inner work. I faced my dad, somewhat unexpectedly, and made some valiant speech about how I was going to overcome him, be victorious, blah blah blah. Because I had some other things to focus on after that, I took a bit of a break from the inner work. 

But it's still been lingering in the back of my brain. And I'm really nervous about the whole thing. I'm nervous about facing him and I'm nervous about what will change afterward. Change is always scary, but fear of the unknown is even worse.

So to follow the "panic attack", I had the lovely family issues to deal with. It's no wonder I feel tired sometimes...

*Side note - I tried to Google images of women juggling things to make some kind of comment about all the things I'm juggling emotionally and they were all pictures of happy women, juggling very successfully. Come on!! I know I'm not the only that feels otherwise!!* 

Rachel

Stumbling On the Walk I Talk

I felt trapped the other day. Someone came up to me and put their arm around my waist. For whatever reason, it made me very uncomfortable. But because of my relationship to this person, I couldn't figure out a way to discreetly pull away without causing a scene. This person did not do anything wrong. It wasn't unreasonable for her to assume that her actions were appropriate. Apparently she feels closer to me than I do her, but none of the other people that I feel even closer to do this. I would be somewhat uncomfortable if they did it as well. 

How am I going to walk this path?

I don't know why she makes me especially uncomfortable when she does things like that, other than her hugs are always too long. I suppose she is simply more physically affectionate than I am comfortable with. The only person I like touching me that much is my husband.

Inside, I was thinking about my recent post talking about children owning their bodies and not making them hug people they don't want to hug. And here I am, a 25 year old, and I can't find a way to speak up.

This situation wasn't traumatizing by any means. I don't want to over dramatize it. I'm just really frustrated with myself for not speaking up...for not removing myself from a situation that made me very uncomfortable. I'm very disappointed in myself and feel very weak. 

I talk the talk so well, but I sometimes stumble on the walk.

Rachel

Beauty in the Breakdown

I know my last post sounded dramatic. My knee-jerk reaction is to apologize, but in reality, it's exactly what I was feeling and that this blog is about being honest about life after abuse. Moments of depression and anxiety are most certainly a significant part of that.

So I've shared how I felt, by what's more important is why I felt it. There were a lot of things going through my mind the last couple weeks. While each issue played a part in my mood change, there was one hanging over my head that I put off exploring. It struck me that I could be clinging to my label as "Survivor". With all this thought being put into defeating Dad in my mind, I've been forced to consider "What's next?" 

Like anyone else, I am sometimes afraid of change, and I know that there is one on the horizon. But I don't know exactly what that change will look like. Let's say I defeat him. Then what will I write about? Where will I find my inspiration? I've found an incredible amount of strength and inner confidence in the past 7 months or so. Without the pain, what more will I have to overcome? How will I feel strong and centered and inwardly beautiful? At my highest points throughout all this, that is exactly how I felt.

I know this sounds illogical. Why would I want to be in pain? Isn't the point of all this to heal? It certainly is, and of course, I don't want to be in pain. But on some level, it's all I know. Who am I without it? What kind of depth will my character have?

I've always had an overwhelming desire to feel special. Maybe that's part of what made me a good easy victim. I was eager to please, to be the "good child" and that was taken advantage of. However, I've felt like surviving my past without turning to drugs or alcohol or another abuse relationship made me special. Not giving up made me special. Being able to write about all of it made me special. So what makes me special when I'm not dealing with it anymore? When it's all been sorted through? Why should it even matter?

Well, I don't have an answer to that last question. When I figure that out, I'll let you know. However, I have some kind of answer to the rest. As part of my therapy tonight, I went to my happy place to have a pow-wow with my Actual Self. I needed to better understand this new realization and what it would mean for the future. She reminded me that even though I may deal with my past, I'll have learned a whole new skill set in terms of dealing with any of life's pain, because pain is inevitable in all human lives. In fully processing my past and my emotions, I will better be able to identify it in others, and be able to relate to them on a whole other level. If I can learn to write while dealing with all of this, there is no reason I can't write about other things in life later. And speaking of later in life, my Actual Self also reminded me that at different times in my life, I may have a whole new set of things to deal with relating to my past. For example, he may be a free man 2 weeks after my birthday in 2015. The reality of him being able to physically be out in the world again is a scary thought right now. Having children will certainly change things, as I imagine I will struggle with being over-protective and paranoid. So I will need to revisit things from time to time.

Another thing I realized tonight is that defeating my dad in my mind, is really defeating his power over me. I hope that this will make his prison release easier for me to deal with. If I can know in my heart and not just my mind that he is a weak old man, I will feel much safer. 

Today, I am feeling much better. Having explored that feeling has lifted a weight off my shoulders. I know there will be more difficult days ahead, but that's life and that's healing. I'm ready to face the next portion of my path. It looks a little brighter now than it did before. In my imagination, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and once I reach it, I explode into a burst of colorful light, freed, empowered and ready to fly.

Yeah, it's abstract. Just roll with it.

Thank you to everyone that has been so supportive since I shared how I was feeling. Studdly Hubby has been especially attentive to my "Love Tank" this week and I know I would have sunk much deeper into the dark place had he not. My (2nd) adopted big brother has really had my back as well. He really puts a lot of thought into the words he chooses. Ironically, my first adopted big brother is a lot like him in that sense. What can I say, I know how to pick 'em. :-D Thank you to those of you who shared that you could relate. Feeling special and feeling alone are two very different things, and you helped me feel less alone.

And because I love music (and I <3 Frou Frou):

"Drink up baby doll
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy
These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

[Chorus:]
So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

It gains the more it gives
And then it rises with the fall
So hand me that remote
Can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow?
Such boundless pleasure
We've no time for later
Now you can't await
your own arrival
you've twenty seconds to comply"

Have a great weekend!!

Rachel

Inner Work Update

I have not done a very good job lately on writing about all the Inner Work I've been doing. I work on it nearly weekly. Sometimes my progress seems significant, but usually it takes a few sessions to have much to write about. On the other hand, I could probably write in more detail if I wrote about each one. Regardless, it's time to catch up with what I'm working on now.

A few weeks ago, I found Dad down the stairs from my safe place. Eventually, I had to go back. When I returned, the door to his cell was open. I peeked inside and was startled to discover that it was empty. I was feeling nervous and very uncomfortable knowing he wasn't locked up where I left him. I backed away slowly. I reached behind me for the doorknob to the exit. Suddenly, he was behind me. He had his penis out and placed it into my hand. I turn around and stepped back in slow motion. 

I could move, but I couldn't scream. I couldn't talk, whisper or shout. I had gone mute. I started to panic and looked around for a way out. My heart was beating faster and faster, and the air was growing thick around me. I looked up and he was back in his cell again. I tried to figure out how to lock him in more permanently this time. I didn't want any more surprises. There was already a padlock on the door, so I added a second one. It was a feeble attempt at security, but I didn't know what else to do. Regardless of how well he was locked up, I knew I was going to have to face him again.

It became clear to me at this time that I was going to have to find a way to defeat him in my mind. Even though in reality I had him locked up, in my mind I am still vulnerable to him. He still frightens me. So I needed a plan.

This is war. And we will win on all fronts.

I've decided to create the "Army of Me".  I am summoning all the younger versions of myself, to face him together. Today, I spoke with the 17 year old, the 19 year old, the 11 year old, and briefly the 12 year old, although I suspect she still feels afraid and ashamed after being told she was acting seductively. My Actual Self summoned them with a horn. She looked larger than life today and very powerful. I thought about how she would be a great commander of my army. As she spoke to them, I suddenly remembered that my Actual Self was just that - she was me! I was powerful! I could command my own army! I took over and told my "selves" how much strength I was drawing for them, and the we were powerful together. Together we could defeat him, for each other. Before I left, I asked them to spread the word to the other selves. We will be meeting again before we will move forward in our victory.

VERY empowering song for me:

"I can feel a phoenix inside of me
As I march alone to a different beat
Slowly swallowing down my fear, yeah yeah

I am ready for the road less traveled
Suiting up for my crowning battle
This test is my own cross too bare
But I will get there

It’s never easy to be chosen, never easy to be called
Standing on the front line when the bomb starts to fall
I can see the heavens but I still hear the flames
Calling out my name

I can see the writing on the wall
I can’t ignore this war
At the eh-end of it all
Who am I living for?

I can feel this lightness inside of me
Growing fast into a bolt of lightning
I know one spark will shock the world, yeah yeah

So I pray for a favour like Esther
I need your strength to handle the pressure
I know there will be sacrifice
But that’s the price

Heavy is the head that wears the crown
Don’t let the greatness get you down
Heavy is the head that wears the crown
Don’t let the greatness get you down, oh, oh yeah"

Rachel

MDMA: A Miracle Cure for PTSD?

I have a bad habit of subscribing to magazines and then letting them pile up on my coffee table. As part of my seemingly never-ending spring cleaning, I've been going through them, reading the better ones and scanning the others for pictures for my dream board.  I got my Oprah Magazine and expected it be one of the better ones, chock full of inspiration and intriguing stories. Unfortunately, this one wasn't doing it for me, that is, until I came across an article almost at the end entitled "Can a Single Pill Change Your Life?"

Apparently, there have been some therapists utilizing the active ingredient in the drug Ecstasy, MDMA, to help treat post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I had not heard of any drugs being available for it so I dove in. A small study was done in Charleston, South Carolina in which 20 individuals with diagnoses of PTSD were given the drug during 2 to 3 therapy sessions. In the end, 17 of them were cleared of the diagnosis. This results seemed significant enough to require further investigation. 

From the article:

                  "With MDMA, you not only see your fear but trust yourself to go past it," says Marcela Ot'alora, 52, a Colorado therapist who took MDMA under a psychologist's care in 1984 to treat PTSD stemming from an abusive relationship. "It shows you how to be kinder to yourself, and how much you're capable of. It allows you access to a place in your mind that's compassionate and full of love. You might have abandoned that place, but it never abandoned you."      

That last part was especially interesting to me as it is my ultimate goal in therapy - to become a better, kind person. To find a place within myself that is good. A place that was abandoned as a child because I had to be protective and cautious, rather than giving love and being vulnerable.

From Oprah.com by Dan Saelinger

So what's the deal? Is MDMA safe? How does it work? Is it really a magic pill?

From what I understand, the drug is taken during a therapy session that last about 8 hours. During that time, clients totally relax and mentally revisit the trauma they experienced. They are able to face their abusers in a way that their psyches normally would not, well, at least not in their first session. Dr. Mithoefer, the physician who ran the study, claims that MDMA acts as a catalyst for internal healing. (For more examples and a more thorough explanation, read the original article here).

Obviously, there are risks involved, as there are with any kind of drug. Those that take it experience an increase in heart rate and blood pressure, as well as a decreased efficiency in the way the heart pumps. It can cause sweating, tremors and hallucinations. 

So what is the alternative for those of us suffering from post traumatic stress disorder if we don't want to subject ourselves to questionable drugs with dangerous side effects? Traditional therapy works, and even has its advantages.

While traditional therapy takes longer than 3 sessions, part of that requires a certain amount of personal commitment and work. Following through with that can lead to greater self esteem and pride. Often times, a part of that therapy is find a place within yourself, where you are able to center yourself and find inner peace, not dissimilar to what is experienced while under the influence of the drug. 

But there is a benefit to doing this "sober". A time will inevitably come when something will trigger a survivor who has already gone through a significant healing process. Or maybe something unpleasant will come up in life, as it always does. Something that tries your patience or frightens you. If you relied on the drug in the past to "heal", where will you turn when it is no longer available? If instead, you took the time to learn the necessary skills to heal and know you have a sense of peace within yourself that you can access, then you can do just that if the situation calls for it. To me, this has been one of the great outcomes of therapy so far. It's something I even use when I'm having a difficult time with Vaginismus. I use it when I'm panicking about paying the bills or feel some social anxiety creeping up on me. It's truly been life changing and I hope I never lose touch with it.

Some experts suggest that the current uses of MDMA may lead to finding a way to tone it down for safer therapeutic use. Until then, it is being accessed by therapists that utilize it on a, shall we say, less than legal basis. Personally, this is not something I would seek out at this time, but we will see what the future holds in research.

Rachel

A Letter to My Younger Self

Dear Rachel,

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. In retrospect, you'll always wish you had. Remember: "Those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter." It's good advice, but can be hard to follow.

People are going to disappoint you in your life - people you love. It's best to just accept that fact and move on. If you want it done right, do it yourself! Or find someone you can really trust.

Speaking of which, be patient. You will find him. You'll jump in with both feet. There will be another, and you will know in your gut that he's not "The One". Hang in there. It won't take long and it will totally be worth it. You'll get your Prince Charming.

Enjoy life! Relax! Don't be afraid to have fun. To Laugh and dance. Sing your heart out. You know it makes you happy.

Listen when people tell you you're good at something, but don't expect it to come from the people you need it from the most. Figure out what you're good at and what you enjoy. Then do it some more!

Rachel, life is going to be tough for a while. You're going to want a way out and will consider some scary exit strategies. But you're stronger than that. The time will come when you will be more free than you can even imagine right now. There will be days when you will look in the mirror, at where you are and what your life has become and you will be blown away. You will feel so much love and happiness. You will even be so fortunate that it will be your everyday life and you will have the luxury of taking it all for granted. You'll be a grownup. Happily married to a man that treats you like his queen. You'll have a real job and a nice place to live. You won't have to live in fear everyday. You will make the decisions in your life. If you want to cut your hair (you will), then you do it! If you want to go to bed at 8pm, then you can! If you want to go to the mall, stay out all night, watch what you want on TV, YOU CAN!!! I know, it's mind boggling! I know you can't even allow yourself to imagine it right now, but just know that you'll get there. It'll be awesome. You're going to feel a lot better about yourself too. You'll still have your insecurities, like anyone else, but eventually you'll find things to be proud of within yourself. And you'll start writing. So pay attention in English class!

I guess what I'm trying to say is don't give up, on life or on yourself. Be kind to yourself and forgive yourself for your shortcomings. You're not going to lose control if you relax and feel, even if what you feel is anger. (That's going to be some tough advice to take as well.)

Love,

Rachel

P.S. "Kid, you’ll move mountains!

So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!" - "Oh! The Places You'll Go!" Dr. Suess




Linked to this blog: "A letter to my younger self" at Multiple Voices