House is a Four

I've talked about the Enneagram, the personality system, on here before. Recently, I've purchased a book about the system, in an effort to better understand my type and, more importantly, to learn how to use that information for growth. After "Fifty Shades of Grey", it's pretty dry reading. Interesting, but dry. And slow. But, insightful.

I've recently learned the Type Fours (my type) tend to be under-expressive in their emotions. At first I thought "There is no way this applies to me! I'm super emotional!". But as I read on, it explained that Fours feel just as much, however they channel those feelings into creative outlets, such as music, poetry, art or maybe blogging *ahem*. I put the book down and really started to reflect and examine this new revelation.

I get so caught up in feeling all these emotions, but I don't know how to broach the topic with people. I desperately want people to reach out to me. I have friends and family who I know are there for me, and have told me on multiple occasions that I can always turn to them. But I just can't do that. I don't know what I'm afraid of.

"You're so afraid if you change, you'll
lose what makes you special."
-Dr. Wilson to House 

The source of this is obvious. In my home growing up, we were not allowed to express ourselves. We were supposed to be obedient little Stepford children. If we cried, my sisters and I were told "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!" [May the good Lord strike me down if I ever utter this to my children!] I didn't know how to express any emotion appropriately. So I went to school and work and did my best to wear a mask, hiding the torment inside. Generally, I think I was pretty good at it.  I once had someone tell me that they assumed I had lived a "charmed life" because I just seemed happy. But it's not something I could just "turn off" when I was no longer being abused. It was a well-learned habit. There are times in life when this serves me well. For example, any job where I've had to deal with the public. "Happy" is what they are paying for, whether it be at the Burger King drive-thru, Blockbuster check-out or attending activities in the nursing home. The "mask" is appropriate at those times. 

But it becomes a problem when I'm unable to take off the mask around other people. People I could be friends with. The concept of the mask isn't really new to me, but understanding just how much I under-express feelings is.

Because of this, I naturally hold people at an arm's length. Which feeds the feeling of being different from others. Which feeds the act of holding people at an arm's length. Do you see the vicious cycle here?

This all also plays a part in holding on to feelings that make me feel different as well. Melancholy is defined as:

1. a gloomy state of mind, especially when habitual or prolonged; depression.

2. sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness.

It is pretty common for me to feel melancholy. I start to dwell on all my "deep, dark feelings". I get annoyed that "no one" understands me, and that I feel unconnected with those around me. It's taken some time, however I'm now able to recognize these feelings when I'm experience them. But it's still difficult to stop them. It's so comfortable. Like baked macaroni and cheese and Studdly Hubby's pajama pants. None of it is good or attractive, but man, does it feel comforting. 

I don't want to say I'm "stuck" here, because I am making progress. I understand this particular issue more and more all the time. But I don't like being in this space at all, because finding comfort in these feelings is not something I'm proud of. 

But it is the truth. 

I feel so close to the edge of a breakthrough here, so I'm not going to give up!!

Rachel

On Perseverance...

I'm feeling proud of myself right now, and I really feel like sharing it. Doing my senior project (and getting an A, I might add) has felt like a major milestone for me. At Concordia, it's something every senior is required to do before graduating. It took me longer to get there, but I did it!

I've felt a lot of shame related to school in the past. And that's not completely gone. I'm still somewhat embarrassed by how long it's taken me and all the failure along the way. 

But I haven't given up.

Getting closer to the light at the end of the tunnel!

I've been really frustrated this semester by the back and forth of my anticipated graduation date. I feel like I finally, FINALLY have a grasp on things and have PTSD under control enough to succeed in school. That feels like a major accomplishment all on its own. So I may more ready than ever to be able to say that I am a college graduate. At this point, it looks like I'll be done at the end of this coming summer (I need a total of 20 more credits). I now have the confidence to say that I will be able to succeed. 

But I'm getting off track here. The point is, I have overcome a lot to get this far. I've grown in so many ways in the last year and half. And the exciting part? I'm not done! I'm still learning and growing! I just wish I could explain to people why I'm proud of myself when it comes to school even though it took a lot of failure to get here.

O well. If they don't get it, it's not my problem. I'm proud of me, and so is my husband. Even though he's almost done with his second bachelor's and I'm still working on my first, he has NEVER made me feel like less for it. He's understood and supported me, every step of the way, even when I've had to pay out of pocket for classes.

On a side note, the more quotes I stumble upon from Albert Einstein, the more I like him:

"It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer."  ~Albert Einstein

Rachel

Mild Irrational Fears

Where to begin...it seems like more and more of my posts are beginning like that. I think one of my New Year's Resolutions is to get back to blogging regularly, maybe once a week.

I have, like any normal person, what I call "mild irrational fears". I often think of the worst case scenario, as in really dark and extremely unlikely, in many situations. For example, as Studdly Hubby and I were driving to see his family on Thanksgiving, I admitted that I'm freaked out by sinkholes. You know the ones - You see a picture on the news of a car that has fallen into a hole in the road that has simply appeared. I've never seen one in person, so it's not something I worry about all the time, but I have thought about how terrifying it would be to land in one!

Anyway, tonight I admitted to Simone that I have a mild irrational fear of "snapping" and ending up in a mental hospital. I fear that I've gotten away with things too easily. Considering what I've been through, my life is too good. Surely there is some deep seated mental illness, hiding deep below the surface, just waiting to show it's ugly face when the time is right. I feel like it is something that could happen years down the road. I don't even know what I feel like "it" is. I worry that I'll develop some kind of latent psychiatric disorder. Even though I can hand you a laundry list of all the things I've already dealt with or am dealing with, I worry that there is something dark festering. It's as if I'm driving down the road, when all of a sudden, my road gives away and I crash into a sinkhole. But those rarely happen, right? I'm still trying to process the whole thing.

On a side note, what has two thumbs and got an A on her senior project?

This girl!!

By the way, there was a sinkhole on the freeway here last week.

Rachel

In Need of a Pep Talk

There is a phrase in the German language, "Ich habe die Nase voll" meaning, "My nose is full/congested." Interestingly, it also means "I've had it up to here!" When I saw Simone on Tuesday, she noticed I wasn't myself. When I shared with her some things I have going on right now, on top of a month long, antibiotic resistant sinus infection, she shared that German phrase with me, which seemed eerily fitting.

The semester is finally coming to an end. I only have a few weeks left, which includes 2 major papers, and my math final, as well as the usual weekly assignments. I petitioned for Concordia to accept the math class I'm in to count for the math credit necessary for my degree. That's great, expect if I don't get a C-, it won't transfer. Even though I average 98% on the homework, and 86% on the quizzes, I will need a 96% on my final to achieve that, thanks to bombing the mid-term. Let's assume I pull that off. I also realized I will need 17 more credits to graduate. So I'm currently registered for 17 credits for Spring 2012. Now let's assume I DON'T get a 96% on my math final. Then those 3 credits won't transfer and I'll need 20, which I cannot do in one semester. Which means I still won't graduate in May. 

I've already been running out of steam a little bit for this semester, but the prospect of graduating soon was really propelling me forward. But now it feels further and further away. I'm so frustrated by the whole thing and feel depleted of energy, motivation, determination, and so much more. It feels like all of my resources have been tapped out. My house is a mess, I barely get to blog anymore, I can't just pick up a book and enjoy it, because I know I should be studying instead. I don't feel like I can even spend much time working on myself, emotionally and mentally, which has slowed things down in therapy, in my mind anyway. And part of that is probably related to the fact that I haven't been writing about it all as well.

On top of all that, I've been feeling really lonely and kind of isolated lately. One of the problems with that is that I sometimes isolate myself even further when I feel that way. I briefly considered not going to Aaron's family's Thanksgiving, but I know going would be better for me. Today I texted my mother-in-law about Black Friday shopping, and then texted my little brother(-in-law) about staying with us that weekend. That made me feel a little better about the holiday, especially when my brother offered to go Black Friday shopping with me if I was going to be going alone. Seriously, what almost 16 year old volunteers to get up at 3am to go shopping with his 26 year old sister-in-law? I adore him. He is the little brother I always wanted and never had.

Anyway, my point is, I am in need of a pep talk. Or some time off. Or a therapeutic retreat. Or a really good professional massage. Or taking the rest of the semester off from work. Although somehow I don't think my boss or my bank account would appreciate that much.  

I don't know what I need.

Rachel

7 Years

I'm so emotionally exhausted I don't even know where to begin.

The past few weeks have been rough. My birthday was absolutely wonderful, but it's been downhill from there on. For one, I haven't been feeling well physically. I've had some things going on that had me thinking I could be pregnant, even though there's no reason I should be, which really toyed with my emotions. Excitement, worry, nervous, disappointment, and all that. I'm not pregnant, and the symptoms have continued. I saw the doctor and she thinks I may have a sinus infection so I'm on an antibiotic for a few more days. Hopefully that will help clear things up.

On the other hand, I've entered a new phase of therapy, one focused on my body and where it stores memories. I believe that had a lot to do with dream I shared in my last blog. But the back and shoulder pain has continued since then. But the icing on top of the cake was the anxiety attack I had last Thursday night. 

A paper bag probably would have come
in handy...

It was my turn to run Bingo at work. I was assisting the very last resident back to her room. I started to feel my heart pound as we got closer to her room and broke into a full-body sweat. Once in her room, she asked me to adjust her light. When I reached up to pull the cord, everything went black and I had to freeze so I didn't trip on anything and fall to the floor. As soon as my vision returned and I said goodnight, I left her room and grabbed onto the railing along the wall in the hallway. I put my hand on my chest and felt my heart pounding. I figured if I waited a few seconds and took a few deep breaths I could calm back down. That's how it usually goes if my heart starts beating harder than usual. But not this time. I was breathing too hard to take a deep breath. I walked to the nearest nurses station and asked the nurse if she could take my pulse. Shockingly enough, it wasn't ridiculously high. So she took my blood pressure and checked my blood sugar as well. Everything was within the normal range, but my heart was still pounding. After 10 minutes or so I was finally able to get back to work, but the whole thing was really scary. I'm still not sure what set it off. I've been a little nervous since then that it's going to happen again, and I swear my heart hurt the next day.

Today I realized that yesterday was the 7th anniversary of the day my family and I left my dad. I suspect a lot of this anxiety has been related to that. It was a dramatic and traumatic end to the years of abuse, but it had to be. And I think I was subconsciously aware that it was that time of year again. I'm hoping that being aware of that is going to help me turn my mood around, because I have just been on a roller coaster lately, and it is exhausting. 

The other thing that has been bothering me lately is how lonely I feel. I had some alone time yesterday so I used the time to write (with pen and paper no less!). I just feel so disconnected from people. I'm learning that this is common with PTSD, but I'm struggling with how to overcome this one. I think it also stems from the fact that I learned from my family that those closest to you can't be depended on, a form of rejection. By not getting to close to anyone, they don't get the opportunity to let me down or reject me. Is it a trust issue? Maybe. Sounds more and more plausible the more I think about it.

So, the good news? 7 years of freedom!

The bad news? The effects continue to linger...

Rachel

Repetitive Sounds/Motions

I don't have a big long post today, but I came across something I wanted to share.

There is a thread on the internet discussing a sensitivity to music related to PTSD. Several of the contributors related their own annoyances with repetitive sounds, such as certain music, turn signals, general ticking, clicking, squeaking noises, etc. 

I became ridiculously excited by this! Those kinds of sounds can nearly drive me mad. Sometimes Studdly Hubby will be innocently playing a video game that requires an abnormal amount of clicking/button pushing and I have to do everything within my power not slap the mouse/control right out of his hands. I can just feel my pulse quickening like I'm running a marathon.

Oh, what fresh hell is this...

But far worse than the sound is repetitive motions. For example, Studdly Hubby and I are sitting in the study. I'm on our old couch, doing homework on my laptop. He's sitting at the table doing his homework. Everyone is happy and getting along. And then it begins. His leg starts moving from side to side, in a repetitive motion. I try my best to block it out, but I can see it in my peripheral vision, shaking repetitively. I try to ignore it, but finally, through clenched teeth, ask him to stop moving. He is very aware of this particular neurosis and stops for the moment. Then he dives back into his work, and before you know it, his leg is moving again. At this point its taking all my strength not to pounce on him like some while animal and rip out his arteries from his neck with my teeth...

Ahem....

But I really do love him. :-D 

And my point is, there are people out there like me. Which is a great comfort when I start feeling like an Extraterrestrial walking around this world.

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

Survivor's Guilt...Kind Of

It's not often I explore my family's perspective during all the abuse in terms of their painful experiences. In the past, I've put too much energy into feeling responsible for them and wanting to help them. I had to focus on myself and my own issues so that I could heal, and in doing so, I couldn't dwell on their pain at the same time. That's not to say that I deny that what they went through was painful and traumatic. Quite the opposite actually. But I can be very empathetic, and so I can't allow myself to think about it.

I also had Mr. Bear. Every child needs
a Mr. Bear.

But the other day at work, something came out and knocked the wind right out of me. I work in a nursing home, where one of our many activities involves making tie-together blankets with the residents that are later donated somewhere in the community. As we were discussing where to donate the most recent batch, someone suggested the YWCA Women's Shelter. She commented that some little child who had to leave her things behind might really appreciate having it to snuggle with. I was instantly transported back to November 2004. My mom, sisters and I left my dad in a dramatic scene on Halloween night, in which the police were involved. I went straight back to my dorm, with food, shelter and support. The rest of my family spent time in a hotel room and some time with the family of one of my sister's classmates. My youngest sister was 9 at the time. 

It was an awful time for all of us. I did what I had to do and took out a restraining order on my dad. He tried to call me at first, and then talked to the pastor at church and had him call me. My mom took out a restraining order as well, and eventually he left the house and she moved back in with my sisters. He still visited the residence, causing an uproar with each visit. Everyone was scared, confused and angry. The two youngest seemed completely lost in the chaos. 

It was them that I thought of when looking at the blankets. I wanted to cry thinking about the whole thing, but I was at work and didn't have the luxury. Instead, I volunteered to drop off the blankets. But I still felt guilty that I didn't do more. I don't know what I could have done, and I know it's not really rational to feel that way, but that's why it's called a feeling. As I sat across the dinner table from Aaron and explained it to him, I thought of "survivor's guilt". It's common when an individual survives some kind of accident and are the only ones to survive it. The sometimes feel some level of guilt. I look around at my life and overall, I'm fairly content. I have a loving husband, I'm moving forward in school, work and my inner self, and have a decent place to live. When I look at my family as a group, it hurts me that they continue to suffer. I sometimes feel like I don't have the right to be carefree and happy when they are still struggling. I know that doesn't make sense, but for a long time I was made to be/feel responsible for them. 

Is there anyone else who has experienced a similar feeling?

Rachel

Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/suetrav/3296535448/

The Plan

On Friday, I found out I'm going to have to take 15 credits this semester, on top of working full-time. First I panicked, then I started to look at the bright side, like getting done early and giving myself a graduation present of a trip to the happiest place on earth - Disney World. 

While that's helpful, I need to have a plan in place to conquer this semester. So I came up with a schedule binder. It will contain my syllabi for all my classes, monthly calendars of all my due dates, and a weekly agenda that I will plan every Sunday for the following week of homework. It also has a cleaning schedule that my darling Studdly Hubby is going to help with, but that's best saved for another post. I honestly have a serious planner fetish. I'll buy a brand new planner in the middle of the year just for the fun of filling it out. Planners and schedules make my heart happy. If you've never looked into it, do check out Google Calendar. It is my life force. 

I also bought a pretty notebook to help make my math class a little more "fun". I recently read a study that said children who were sexually abused grew up to have decreased scores on math tests. I could use that as an excuse, although I see it more as a challenge. "Oh, that's why I struggle? F*** that! I'm going to beat this!" Also, I'm taking College Algebra, so it shouldn't be too demanding. In theory.

Another part of my plan requires a good study space. I've used my free time this summer to clean out and organize our study. I now have a comfortable place where Aaron and I can do our homework together. The living room has the TV which is too much of a distraction. And we have a DVR in the bedroom, so anything I want to see, I can record until I'm free to watch it. 

Before I share the last part of my plan, you have to promise not too laugh. Yes, you. Because it's a bit silly. Are you promising? Pinky swear? Ok...

T-shirt idea: "I'm too pretty to be this serious". :-P

I'm going to wear glasses to do my homework. What's so funny about that you say? I don't need glasses. These don't even have real lenses. They're from Claire's. BUT, it will help me play the role of a student. Someone who buckles down and gets the work done. Very serious. Stop laughing! And please refrain from comments sharing how dreadful I look in glasses. I've always thought I could pull off the "sexy librarian" thing. Nope. Doesn't matter. These aren't for use in public. 

So there we go. I have a plan. All I need now is my syllabi so I can start filling in the schedules. Wish me luck!!

Rachel

School Frustrations...Already

I am so frustrated right now. My master plan for school involved me taking 6 credits at Ivy Tech this fall and doing my senior project through Concordia, which is  more credits. I thought this would be manageable. As it would turn out, I am required to be full-time at Ivy Tech to receive any financial aid. Which means, I am now registered for 12 credits at Ivy Tech PLUS my senior project. So instead of taking a total of 9, I'll be taking 15 credits. And working full-time.

So this fall is pretty much shot. I have to finish this. It is not optional in any way shape or form. I have to do really well. As I've talked about on here before, school is a struggle for me. Doing all that would be hard for anyone, but I already feel overwhelmed. I still have a couple weeks left to come up with a good plan to tackle it all. 

But here's the silver lining. First of all, I don't have any kids! That would make this next to impossible. I honestly don't know how some women do it. Second, I'll be done a semester earlier. YAY! Come May 2012, I hope to be throwing a heck of a party or doing something big to celebrate. Maybe a return to Disney World? Hmm..."Where dreams come true"...or at least where they're celebrated. 

Yep, this feels like a plan!

I've taken a break since starting this post, and I've already calmed down some. I'm focused on being done soon, rather than on how much more work it will be. *deep breath* I've also talked to Studdly Hubby and he made me feel a lot better. 

Any and all support/prayers are appreciated in advance. :-P

Rachel

Sensuality

Before I really get into things here, I think it is important to define what I mean when I talk about being "sensual". When you first hear the word, what do you think of? Is it sex? It usually is for me. And although it's not entirely unrelated, I'm talking about a more thorough exploration of the senses in general, which, in theory, should make sex more fulfilling as well. I tried to look up some definitions, and they some of them made it seem hedonistic and bad. That's not what this is about.

As someone recovering from PTSD, I can tell you I often go through the day not feeling much of the physical world. I don't notice how my clothes feel on my skin. I don't smell the air when there is nothing noticeable or overwhelming there. I don't see all the beautiful colors in the world around me. I spend more time focusing on what is in my head. I think about my fears and insecurities. I think about my blog. I think about my relationships. I spend so much time thinking that I forget to feel. 

A couple weeks ago, I decided this was something that I could work on now. Since then, I've talked to my therapist about it. I told her that I feel like there is some kind of "block" regarding my sexuality and sensuality. When she asked me to describe it, I struggled, but eventually I was reminded of my Tai Chi class at Concordia. The instructor, Sang, taught us about "chi", and energy that is flowing through all of us that sometimes does become blocked. He taught us how to actually feel this energy force between our hands. He was able to tell me when my chi was blocked, and went it began to flow I again, I could physically feel the change, sometimes even becoming lightheaded from the sudden rush. Sharing this with Simone, my therapist, led to a discussion about chakras, which are centers of energy in the body. 

Since then, I have been meeting with my inner self nightly, asking her to heal the chakras that require it. The first week, I didn't notice any kind of change at all, which could be partly due to the fact that I was so distracted by my flirtations with Studdly Hubby. But this past week has been different. For the last four days, I have spent as much free time as possible out on my balcony.

Since discovering my "happy place", I have felt more in touch with nature than I ever have before in my life. When I was sitting outside, the sun was shining, and there was a delicious summer breeze. I watched the large tree in front of me. The leaves fluttered, the branches swayed, giving to the wind so that they didn't break off. When the wind was stronger, the top part of the tree trunk swayed as well, but the base removed strong. It seemed like a beautiful metaphor for the human spirit. 

A quiet evening at home. Me, Carl Jung and
one of my cats, Char.

I basked in the feel of the sun on my skin. I sipped from my glass of wine, enjoying the flavor. I ate from a vegetable tray, tasting the array of flavors and textures. I loved the creamy ranch dip combined with the snap of the snap peas. I popped the cherry tomatoes in my mouth, letting it burst, juice exploding. Mmm...I'm able to taste it all again just thinking about it!

Since then, I keep going outside again. It seems to be the best place for me to begin exploring my senses. It is a happy place in the real, physical world. I'm a little embarrassed to say that I actually turned down a social invitation from a friend in favor of spending the evening on my balcony. 

Today, I savored every bite from a fruit tray. I paid attention to the amount of pressure necessary to lick the juices from my fingers, to lick the cream cheese vanilla dip off. I'm fascinated by the new world that's been opened up to me, but at the same time, was there all along.

But now I'm curious. How do others experience life? Do you pay attention to your senses at this level? Are you often too wrapped up in the day-to-day busyness of life to notice anything else? I want to know!

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

PTSD Awareness Day

June 27th is the second annual National PTSD Awareness Day. In honor of it, I will be wearing my teal ribbon and hope that all of you will do the same. I also thought it would be appropriate to discuss it here once again. 

I've talked about my personal experiences with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the past, but it's important to understand how it affects our community at large. First of all, let's take a look at how many people it affects. Here are a few statistics I found on www.healmyptsd.com (I know it's a lot of numbers, but please read them and bear with me):

• 70% of adults in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. That’s 223.4 million people.
• Up to 20% of these people go on to develop PTSD. As of today, that’s 31.3 million people who did or are struggling with PTSD.
• Among people who are victims of a severe traumatic experience 60 – 80% will develop PTSD.
• According the the National Center for PTSD: “Studies have shown that as many as 100% of children who witness a parental homicide or sexual assault develop PTSD. Similarly, 90% of sexually abused children, 77% of children exposed to a school shooting, and 35% of urban youth exposed to community violence develop PTSD.”
• In the past year alone the number of diagnosed cases in the military jumped 50% – and that’s just diagnosed cases.
• Studies estimate that 1 in every 5 military personnel returning from Iraq and Afghanistan has PTSD.

So what does this tell us? Ultimately, there is no "face" of PTSD. Our veterans are suffering from this. Our children are suffering from this, and, if they don't get help, will continue to suffer. 

But how can anyone get help, if they don't know it's a problem? That's where you come in.  We can all help raise awareness that teaches the community what PTSD is and allows those suffering from it to seek out the help they need without shame or stigma. 

Why should you care? Well, for one, there is a good chance you know someone with PTSD. By understanding it, you can offer support in healing. The Department of Veteran Affairs has some great resources on this here. Also, PTSD is affecting our economy. Read the following from www.healmyptsd.com:

"According to Sidran Institute the economic burden of PTSD is large. Interesting numbers include:

The annual cost to society of anxiety disorders is estimated to be significantly over $42.3 billion, often due to misdiagnosis and undertreatment. This includes psychiatric and nonpsychiatric medical treatment costs, indirect workplace costs, mortality costs, and prescription drug costs.

More than half of these costs are attributed to repeat use of healthcare services to relieve anxiety-related symptoms that mimic those of other physical conditions.

People with PTSD have among the highest rates of healthcare service use. People with PTSD present with a range of symptoms, the cause of which may be overlooked or undiagnosed as having resulted from past trauma.

Nonpsychiatric direct medical costs, e.g., doctor and hospital visits, is $23 billion a year-the largest component of the societal costs are anxiety disorders, including PTSD."

Did you catch that? $42.3 billion related to misdiagnosis and undertreatment. Clearly, there is a problem here.

So I have one more favor to ask you. Follow this link to the Department of Veterans Affairs page that gives an overview of PTSD. It briefly explains how it develops and some common symptoms. A little information can go a long way. So read that information and pass it along, either by sharing this posting, the direct link or printing it off and handing it to someone the good old-fashioned way.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! 


Rachel

Another Sex Post

I haven't posted anything recently dealing with Vaginismus because things have been going alright in the department. There are still some times when it can be a struggle, but overall, it is still an improvement from a year ago. That being said, there are still other problems. Vaginismus technically refers to the inability to relax the vaginal muscles to allow painless penetration. But depending on the cause, there is likely to be other issues as well.

For example, I tend to rush through foreplay. In the back of my mind, penetration is the goal, partly because that was the case in overcoming Vaginismus. However, that can exacerbate the issue because then I am not aroused enough. Honestly, you know its a problem when your husband thinks there isn't enough foreplay! But I was talking to Simone today, and realized something. All of the years I was being abused, there was never any penetration or oral sex. And now, those are the things I focus on. They are new and exclusive to Aaron. There was a time when those two things were my greatest fear, but I've been able to work past that. But any other kind of touching comes with more baggage. 

With Aaron being in Colorado for most of the summer, it gives us the opportunity to talk about these sorts of things without any perceived pressure to have sex. We can both share how we feel about the current status about of our life, and where we see it going. The good news is, we have the same goals. 

Now that I've worked through a few major issues, I'm able to focus on this one. I'm just incredibly blessed to have a husband who has been so patient over the last 4 years. Sexual intimacy isn't the most important part of a marriage, but it is a major part of it. To him I say...

Rachel

Drugs

First of all, I have never tried any kind of illegal substance. I haven't even touched a cigarette. I never really saw the point in either. I also have a near phobia of being drunk. I've only let it happen once, and didn't really care for it.

There was a time in my life when I wasn't really facing my demons. I knew that many survivors of abuse turned to drugs or alcohol, but at the time, I didn't completely understand why.

Confession: Over the last few months, I've come to understand. I've been sick to my stomach, had headaches and chest pain, all unrelated to anything physical. Also, PTSD can leave you feeling really jumpy and agitated sometimes. No, I haven't tried any drugs or turned to alcoholism, but the thought has crossed my mind. There were several occasions when I thought a little pot would really help me relax. I can easily imagine how someone with a history like mine would easily become addicted to a narcotic. Maybe I should rephrase that...I can easily imagine how I could easily become addicted to a narcotic. After all, willpower isn't my strongest point.

On the other hand, I've considered legal drugs as well. So far, I've been doing all of this without anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds. Simone hasn't suggested them, and I haven't asked. I want to be able to do this without the help of chemicals, but there have been some moments in the past few months when I've felt like an "as needed" Xanax would be helpful. But I've always get through and find the light on the other side. As long as I can keep doing that, I think I can avoid the drugs. I think. 

Things have been tough lately. I remember several months ago when I was feeling very in-touch with my "actual self". I was making great progress and just feeling very balanced and spiritual. I walked a little taller and felt like I had an inner light just bursting out my pores. I had 2 people ask me if I was pregnant because I apparently had a glow or an aura about me. I haven't felt like that in a while now. And I really miss it. Right now I feel bruised and tired and old. I'm still optimistic and feel good about my choices, but right now, it's not fun. My blog got a little quiet for a few weeks (which feels like an eternity to me), but now that I'm writing again, I feel a little better. Usually my mood affects my writing which affects my mood. So if I'm in the wrong state of mind, I just can't find any inspiration, and then I'm irritated which puts me in a worse state of mind!

I guess the point of all this has been just to say that I'm proud that I've made it this far without the help of pharmaceuticals, although I haven't ruled them out completely. I believe there is most certainly a place for those kinds of drugs, although I do believe general practitioners over-prescribe them.

Have any of you had success or a bad experience with mood enhancing prescriptions?

Rachel

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

Aging with PTSD

I've had a couple things come up at work recently. Without going into too much detail, one resident was badly injured when he was in his 20s, and appears to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Then I found out about another resident who had something happen to her when she was a child and just had a hallucination related to it while she was in the hospital. When I heard about this one, I actually felt sick to my stomach. How terrible and horrifying that must have been!

Both of these incidents, particularly the second one, really got me thinking about my future...my distant future. What will I be like when I am old and alone? When my mind starts to go? What if I see a man who looks like my dad to me? Even though I won't be in any real danger, it won't feel like that if I have dementia. 

I realize I'm more sensitive to his because of the demographic I work with, but it's a frightening thought. Worrying about it isn't going to benefit me any. But it does make me very empathetic to those residents. I can only imagine their fear and confusion.

The one hope I have is that (a), there is a lot of research going on to prevent and cure Alzheimer's Disease, as well as other forms of dementia. And (b), I am working very hard to deal with my past and work through it effectively. There is a good chance that the generation I am working with never got that opportunity. It was a very different world that they grew up in. Maybe it won't all come back up again for me.

Here's hoping!

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

Doppelganger Dad

There is a symptom of PTSD that has really been bothering me lately. It's been a problem all along, but once I notice it, it comes up more frequently. 

Do you ever see someone who briefly looks just like someone that you know it can't be? Maybe your grandmother that has passed away, or a friend that lives hours away and has no reason to be where you are at the moment? For those that don't know, a doppelganger is a look-alike. It also has some other, more traditional and very interesting meanings which you can view here. (You're welcome) I have this all the time, except its my dad who is actually locked up in prison in northern Michigan. 

Usually this is a very brief feeling. I see someone that walks like him, or has hair like him or sometimes just reminds me of him for some reason. A split second later, I am back in reality, but still feel very shaken. I feel foolish for even having that reaction when I know he's locked up. I even check his prison page routinely to give myself a reality check and reassure myself that he's still there. (BTW, if they would update the photo more often, it would feel more real.)  I feel frustrated that this is even a part of my life. I feel vulnerable and unsafe, because someday, he won't be locked up. 

When I first disclosed the abuse, I was living in a dorm. I gave his photo and information to security and let them know he wasn't allowed near me. It actually made me feel more protected. I also had multiple male friends that I knew would protect me if it came to that.

But what about now that I'm the real world? I spend the day in the workplace, surrounded by co-workers, not close friends. If he walked through the door, no one would question it. We get all kinds of people visiting our residents. No one would warn me. No one would send him away or call the police. They would have no idea. I don't even want to think about what would happen if he showed up at our apartment when I was alone. I already have nightmares about it. 

I know the likelihood of him showing up within the next 3 years is 1 in 1 billion. But this isn't about what I think will really happen. It's about the feeling I get when I see someone like him. 

It actually happened today at work. I saw someone coming down the hallway while I was standing at the nurses station. I can't even tell you why it reminded me of him. I couldn't even tell you what the man looked like, because it doesn't matter. But I had to fight back tears. Not because of this single incident, but because earlier that day I saw someone in a pick-up truck (his vehicle of choice) that reminded me of him. And because there have been several other incidents lately. I feel like my life is being intruded upon.

In theory, this will get better once I "defeat" the power he has in my mind. Maybe then I will feel safer.

For now, I need to relax more. Anyone know of a good place to get a massage around here? :-P

For the record...here are a couple of my dopplegangers:

MyHeritage: Celebrity Morph - Old photos - Roots

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebs

Rachel