Losing My Trust

So here's a fun twist. I woke up this morning and checked out Facebook on my phone, as I do every morning. My cousin had posted this link to a news story.

In a nutshell, it's about a man who was arrested on charges of possessing and distributing child pornography. According to investigators, he was "considered the largest and most active trader using peer-to-peer software". Horrifying, right? Awesome that they caught him, right? Agreed. 

Although I find myself especially horrified because I know this man. He was a year behind me in our small grade school. Because we went to a small parochial school, two grades shared a classroom, so we were in the same classroom every other year. We grew up together in a sense. I can recall chasing him around the playground. I had a little bit of a crush on him for awhile. And we've been friends on Facebook for several years now. Well, until this morning.

I can't say I know him well enough to offer any kind of judgement on his character, but I can't help but be stunned by this. Of all the people that I would have even slightly thought capable of a fraction of the horrific nature of something like this, he never would have crossed my mind.

At first, I felt appropriately removed from this story. I didn't really know him that well. But the more I thought about it, the more upset I became. I started to realize I'm losing my trust in people.

I was talking about this with Aaron tonight and he would claim that I already don't trust people. I disagreed. I  told him I think I am a very trusting person, especially all things considered. He reminded me that I don't depend on people. While that's true, there is a difference between trusting people to follow through on things and trusting them to not harm me or my loved ones. What I'm talking about is the latter. 

Part of this is also brought on by the Penn State scandal coverage. Sandusky was a man people were supposed to be able to trust. No one suspected anything like that was going on. Supposedly, some people were shocked by my own story when it first came out. And the late-to-the-party icing on the cake, Aaron's dad is a pedophile too. I most certainly never suspected him of such a thing before it came out.

So who can I really trust? And how does this play out in my life? I'm not worried about myself. I'm strong. If someone tries to take advantage of me, they're not going to get far. Same goes for my husband. But I want a family someday. I want to have children. I feel ready for that, but I worry about how I'm going to live with the constant fear that they will be victimized by someone we know. But even without children, and without being frightened for my own safety, its a scary thought that we are working and living around these closet perverts. 

Wouldn't it be great if they all had some kind of symbol on their foreheads so we could identify them instantly? 

I'm so frustrated by this whole thing. I've always seen myself as someone who believes there is a lot of good in this world despite the evil I've experienced. I still want to believe that, but it's getting harder. I've struggling with my sense of self in general lately, but that's another soon-to-come post.

Please, can someone give me another perspective on any of this?

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

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

A Few Things...

I have about a billion things on my mind right now, so I'll just dive in.

It's very difficult to describe how difficult it is to let go of my past, to let go of being a victim. I want to be strong and to overcome, but giving up the familiarity of everything that happened has felt a bit like giving up a part of my identity. I want to feel something about it all. I want it to matter for something. I have to find a way to find meaning in it all. But finding the balance between respecting the past and moving forward is not as simple as it sounds. But something clicked today. I deserve everything this life has to offer. I deserve a family. I deserve a happy marriage. I deserve to be happy...because of the past. I've been as low as can possibly be. And I think I'm about ready to come out on the other side. To take a deep breathe in the sunlight. To let go of the angst. None of this means that I'm going to stop processing any of it or working through it in therapy. On the contrary, I'm ready to take the next step, whatever that may be, instead of being held back by the past. I'll still have difficult days. I may still have nightmares. I may still feel like an alien walking around this world, but I'm determined to find accept happiness. 

I find it strange that this is what I've been considering today. Last night, I had a terrible nightmare. I ended up crying in the middle of the night, which never happens. Without going into all the details, I can tell you that in the dream, I am being mercilessly beat by my dad. My tears and sweat were mixed with my own blood. I felt like a dog, cowering in a corner. Have you ever seen a dog being punched and beat by it's master? It's a horrible sight, that always makes my stomach turn. I woke up in physical pain. My lower back, pelvis and right hip hurt terribly. I pulled out my heating pad and that seemed to alleviate most of it, although when finally woke up again at 10:00 in the morning, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. It seemed like my whole body hurt. I had a headache, my heart hurt and my hips, pelvis and back were aching again. As the day has gone on, I've started to feel better, except for my hips.  It seems counterintuitive that accepting happiness would be on my mind after all this.

On the other hand, Aaron and I have been discussing family planning, and I've been a little obsessed with that as well. Also, I had a graduation audit done through Concordia to see where I was at. I've been planning on taking one class next semester, but I wanted to make sure I didn't need anymore. I don't want to draw this out any longer than I have to! Word came back that I will be done this semester. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I'm getting a college diploma for Christmas. Its so close I can taste it. This is a dream I've had for almost a decade, and I can't believe it's about to come true. 

I also can't believe what an amazing husband I have. Aaron is a good man. I am a strong person and I've worked hard to overcome a lot so far. But I honestly believe that I may not still be alive had I not met him when I did. Either my dad would have beat me within an inch of my life to shut me up and I would just give up, or, I hate to admit it, I would have taken my own life. My life was becoming more and more dangerous, and Aaron was right by my side, encouraging me, supporting me, and giving me the strength to make the necessary changes in my life.  Other than a handful of people who were with us everyday on campus, I don't think many people understand everything he did for me, and continues to do. Eventually, I was in a place emotionally where I could give back to him as well, which is easy to do, all things considered. I guess all I'm trying to say is this: Aaron is a man that adds to my happiness daily, and I love him more daily. 7 years of love and counting. <3

"Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away; and all the things I want to say can find no voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my eyes will speak my heart." - Robert Sexton

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

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

DINKS?

I've had a couple things buzzing around my brain lately. School is obviously one of them. I'm getting myself geared up for this crazy semester and enjoying my last few moments of freedom before they are eaten up by homework/studying/research.  The second is babies.

Normally when I bring up babies it's because I'm longing to start a family of my own. But I have a lot of concerns in doing so. When you look at the statistics of child sexual abuse, the perpetrator is almost always someone close to the family, or someone trusted. This point is even more exaggerated by the fact that Aaron's dad is currently serving time for being a pedophile. So what are you supposed to do? You can't go through life not trusting anyone. You can't keep your child strapped to your hip 24/7/365. The thought of something happening to my child terrifies me - and he/she doesn't even exist. 

Aaron made the comment that I can't let that fear rule my life, and he's right, but I can't shake it. For me, it feels like a huge risk to bring a child into this life when I know how damaging a traumatic experience can be. I've had more than one person tell me it's "worth the risk", but for me, that kind of comment belittles my experience. When you've been through what I've been through, you can decide if it's worth the risk.

They made it work.

So I did what I always do when I'm facing a decision or new idea. I research it. I started looking into the intentionally child-free lifestyle, which includes individuals and couples who have chosen, for a variety of reasons, to not have children or adopt. There are a lot of good reasons that people choose this and there are a lot of perks that come with it. I've been trying to imagine my life without children. Aaron and I would be what is known as DINKs - Double Income No Kids. We could settle down in a nicer smaller house than I originally dreamed. We could travel as much as we wanted to. We could pick everything up and move across the country without worrying about the affect it would have on children. We would have more time and attention for each other. We could have nicer cars and nicer things.

On the other hand, the fantasy feels lonely. Although having children to heal loneliness doesn't seem fair either. But "things" can't replace a child. I just don't know that I could ever be happy in giving up a family. I've been trying to ask myself why I want children. I can't come up with a good reason. Honestly, I can't come up with a good reason for anyone to start a family. Most of us feel the need to because it's a natural urge, but now that our planet doesn't require us to populate it, I think we have the luxury to stop and really think about whether or not its the best decision for each person/couple. I think Aaron and I would make great parents. I think I have a strong maternal instinct and a fairly good intuition about people, and Aaron even more so. If a child were to come into our life, we would accept it and love it with all we have. I'm just not sure at this point if I want to seek that child out. 

Maybe this is a phase I'm going through. Maybe in a few years when Aaron is out of school and we both have jobs and the idea of starting a family is an immediate possibility I'll feel different. Heck, I might feel different in a month. Or maybe not. I don't know. But I feel like it was important to share this, because I know there are other survivors out there that feel the same way.

It's how I feel. You don't have to agree or disagree. Just try to understand.

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