The Path of Purpose

Every path has a purpose, but for every purpose there are many paths. I have walked many paths in the course of my life, but I feel like I am just begining to walk the path of my purpose. The problem has been that I didn't understand what that purpose is.

Does purpose mean the same thing as goal?

A part of my anxiety is that I remain focused on a specific goal. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. . . .that kind of fixation on an end point is what kept me on the path of education through a lot of chaos that could have very easily detoured me, but it didn't. . . .because I remained focused on the goal. But was obtaining an associate's degree, a bachelor's degree, and a master's degree my life purpose? God, I hope not.

Purpose is about that reason why you get up everyday, and while I I may not ever "know" why I was put on this earth, I do know that what makes me get up on most days is that I want to be the best person I can be. So I get up and suit up because I am constantly in a process of personal growth and evolution, which is why I actually enjoy the process of therapy and self-reflection, and why I do things like choosing the hardest professors in college because I know that I will learn the most from them.

I had one math instructor whose tests were so hard I used to joke that I looked like Albert Einstein after taking a test because I felt like my hair was literally standing up on end when I left the room from all of the stress wiping. His tests were desiged to not just test the pieces of knowledge the book had presented, but also how you could then take that knowledge and apply it to situations we hadn't yet encountered. People who failed every test could still get an A in his classes, because his tests were about achieving a higher level of understanding, and not just regurgitating what had been learned. I hated that man, but I took math classes from him every chance I could. . . .and I was the better person for having done so.

Life is hard right now because I haven't (yet) learned how to navigate the obstacles before me. . . .that's all.

Yesterday's homework dug up an important insight about the difference between purpose and goals. A great deal of my anxiety right now is enmeshed in the focus on a specific outcome with respect to something I have been battling at the canyon, a fight about a quality of life based on certain and specific pieces. But last night I realized that my purpose isn't successfully fighting for these certain and specific goals. . . .my purpose is successflly learning how to speak up and advocate for my self.

I am not in control of the outcome of my battle at the canyon, but one thing is definitely certain: I will fail to fulfil my purpose if I continue to believe that I don't matter, or that my needs don't matter. So the fulfilment of my purpose requires that I grow strong enough in the belief that I matter enough to advocate for my own needs to be met. Which means that the obstacles that are making their way into my journey provide me with exactly the right circumstances in order for me to develop that strength.

Just for today I can feel grateful for the obstacles, because they give me exactly what I need in order to grow strong enough to fulfil my purpose.

Yes, it's hard. Yes, I feel defeated some days. Yes, I feel like the stress of this "test" has caused my hair to stand on end. . .lol. But my needs do matter enough to fight for them. . . .that's why I'm here in Prescott. . . .that's why I've taken this leave of absence to participate in the VA's treatment group. . . .and that's why I continue to fight for my right to have a quality of life that best meets my needs in an environment that is making that extremely dificult.

So there are some days when I feel like my ass just got kicked, but that's because I still choose the hardest teacher available, because that's still how I learn the most. . . .

A Life Examined

According to Socrates, "The unexamined life is not worth living," but we're also told that "Ignorance is bliss," so which one do we believe? Who knows! As for me, I tend to side with Socrates on this one, which is why I believe that the therapeutic process is such a good thing, and probably at least one of the reasons why my graduate work took the path of therapy in the first place.

This week's "homework" involves the Socratic method of examining the beliefs that are the real underlying reason for why we do things, or why we feel the way we do about the things we do. It can be a tedious process, of course, but the work to trace the path of choices back to the source can yield some very interesting and helpful insights.

I'm still processing yesterday's insight about the metaphor of "the door" and the fear that I have about finding out what's on the other side. Some insights are merely interesting, while others are life changing. . . .and the insight about the door is definitely falling into the latter category. Knowing this truth about myself has motivated me to confront the fear and anxiety in so many different ways already.

Last night I asked the hard question of a friend that has been gnawing in my gut for several weeks, and I'm so glad that I asked, because the assumptions that I had been making were so far from the mark it makes me laugh at myself (and not necessarily in a good way :) The misunderstanding was my lack of clarification and nothing that she did, but the positive news is that the anxiety about it is gone. Such a simple fix. . . . just ask. . . .but when you are a person who avoids conflict in your personal relationships, asking the hard questions generally isn't the first choice on your list of options. . . .lol.

As I continue to process the asking of the hard questions, what I realize is that more often than not, the question isn't an overt question that simply needs to be asked, but rather an implied question. What I mean by this is that I don't always speak my truth (either in words or actions) in my personal relationshps because I am afraid of the answer to the following question, "If I say or do what I need to say or do for me, will you still like or love me enough to stay in relationship with me?" And my fear of knowing what's on the other side of this question then invites me to say or do something that I really don't want to say or do at all, but I do it anyway. . . .because I am secretly and invisibly afraid of the person walking out of my life.

Yeah, powerful stuff this examination of a life.

It's not always easy to see these invisible questions lurking behind the choices that I make in my personal relationships, but I know that there will be a hell of a lot less anxiety once I examine the things I do and say that I don't really want to do or say. And maybe finding out what's on the other side of these questions won't always be warm and fuzzy, but at least I will know. . . .and will no longer need to live with anxiety about the not knowing. . . .or do things I don't really want to do.

Socrates can be a big pain in the ass sometimes. . . .but so worth the pain :)

What's Behind Door #2

Today in group one of my ABCs was processed. It doesn't matter so much what that means, as much as it matters what I discovered about myself in the process.

The activating event (A) is the creaking sound I hear in the house at night, generally as I'm trying to go to sleep. Of course I think there's someone in the house (B), which makes me feel vulnerable and powerless (C). . . . but then the discovery occurred.

I feel vulnerable and powerless because my room is at the end of a long house, and even though there is a lock on the door, I am terrified about opening up that door to see if there is actually someone on the other side of that door. Talk about symbolic of just about everything in my life!

I feel vulnerable and powerless because I am afraid to find out what's on the other side of the door. And not just the door, that's the obvious piece. But there are questions that I avoid asking people in my life because I'm afraid to find out what's on the other side.

Awareness and Acceptance aren't enough. . . .it takes ACTION to rewire the brain.

So, no more fear! Tonight, when I hear the creaking, I'm going to open up that door no matter how afraid I might be of what I find, because it's not appropriate to lie in bed terrified that someone might be walking through the house and then just force myself to go to sleep! Someone might actually BE walking through the house, and knowing proactively is a whole lot better than finding out in other ways!

Proactive knowing is better than waiting in terror of what might happen. . . .

I'm also starting to ask the hard questions of the people in my life, because I'm no longer going to make assumptions about why someone has done something (or not done something). I'd rather know, than live with that ball of anxiety in my stomach from worrying and not knowing. It seems so simple, but I'm no longer going to let my fear of what's behind door #2 stop me from asking the hard questions.

Because once I know.. . . then I don't have to worry about it any more. . . .and I can then deal with "what is" rather than the endless possibilities of "what if."

The Beauty of the Fear

I spent the morning walking around Lynx Lake, trying to reconnect with the world around me and detox from yesterday's ordeal with the non-stop panic attacks. It's shocking just how much fear I live with in my body! These panic attacks are all about the fear, a fear gone wild, a level of fear that is completely out of control and unmanageable, like a wild fire burning everything in its path and filling the air with toxic fumes.

Can I find beauty amidst all of that out of control fear?

God is amazing; everything at that lake was created by God, the one creator. So what if God created me exactly the way that I am, even though that predisposes me to having panic attacks? What if I'm supposed to be this way? What if God created me this way? I watched everything at that lake today as an interconnected whole, that everything had its purpose, and everything was created exactly as God intended it to be.

What if God created me exactly the way that I am, even if that means that I have panic attacks?

If this is how God created me, then the fear is not something outside of me, it's a part of me, it IS me. I fight the fear. I resent the fear. I am disempowered by the fear. But that's because the fear feels completely out of control, but what if that's only because I am fighting it and resenting it?

Something happened today that I can't explain. It's as if by connecting in spirit with all things created by the same creator of me, that God was able to show me that everything was created just as its supposed to be, even if I can't understand why. I'm not the only person who was created with panic attacks, so maybe it's not that I'm damaged and broken. . . .maybe I'm exactly the way that God created me to be, and I need to find the beauty in the middle of all of that fear.

I think there is a hidden beauty in the middle of the fear. . . .which also means that there is a beauty about me in the way that God created me to be, a beauty that I disown by being afraid of all of that fear.

This is such a different way for me to think about the panic attacks, but I feel like I need to sit with the fear in a new way, like looking at those three-dimensional pictures where all you see is this chaotic patterning of color and shape, but then when you look through it this unexpected picture sort of pops out at you.

I never thought I'd say this, but I want to find the beauty in the fear. . . .because I just know that when I do, I will no longer be afraid of the fear. . . .

Love and War

When a turtle gets turned upside down, there are generally two reasons: Love and War. It's either because they are mating (and the male has slid off), or it's because they have been fighting (and one of them has either been flipped over intentionally by the other, or inadvertantly gets flipped upside down in the natural course of the battle).

I supposed everything boils down to something involving Love and War.

So that's all this is. . . .I've been turned upside down by the battle. . . .and it's certainly not the worst thing that could happen, especially when I have many friends and resources to help me get turned upside right. So I'm going to be just fine. . . .I just need to keep flapping until I grab hold of something solid.

And that "something solid" is nothing more than simply accepting that I've been turned upside down by the battle. That's it. That, and remembering that I'm not alone. . . .so, I'm going to be just fine. . . .because I'm not alone in this struggle to get myself turned upside right :)

The Social Contract

I am a warrior, a kick ass she warrior, a warrior who has survived a life time of battles I never wanted to fight. . . .but I fought them. . . . not always willingly or gracefully, but I fought them. And while many of these battles have been against my will, I generally don't whine and I don't complain (and very rarely do I even feel sorry for myself). . . .I do therapy, I read books, I go to workshops, I blog, I talk with friends and other warrior survivors, I meditate with God about the nature of my exisitence, and I do everything in my power to both accept and change how these wounds have affected my life so that I can to grow and develop and heal and recover, because while I'm not responsible for the wounds themselves, it becomes my personal responsibility to heal them.

I'm a survivor, not a victim. . . .but even survivors have wounds that need to be healed.

Yesterday afternoon I went to a lecture in Prescott by one of the author of Death in the Grand Canyon. The last part of his lecture was about the social contract versus personal responsibility. He was referring to a hiker's personal responsibility to train and prepare for their trips into the back country wilderness rather than simply relying on the social contract to save their ass when they have not trained or prepared appropriately. The social contract is a beautiful thing, that "civilized" society's code of ethics that wraps itself around its people  with the sole purpose of providing safety and protection of rights to life and liberty, but also to rescue when harm finds its way to the inside of the social fabric.

So, what happens when the social contract breaks down?

The social contract isn't perfect. In fact, there are actually great big gaping holes in it, but it's the fabric of our idealism, so it's never going to be "perfect," because it's constantly evolving with the constant change and evolution of our society. Yesterday I felt like the social contract had let me (and my brothers) down, but it didn't. The neighbors who saw and heard but never made the hard calls, they didn't lived up to their part of the social contract, that's true. And the friends and family who either didn't see or didn't want to see, yeah, they also didn't live up to their part of the social contract. But that doesn't mean that the social contract failed, because there have been many other people along the way who did step up. They may not have been the people who should have stepped up, but they did.

The question of "Why didn't anyone step in to help?" is a hard question to answer. Was it because I didn't matter enough (even as a human being) for the observers and witnesses to rise above their own crap and baggage? Was it because we're all flawed human beings doing the best we can with what we have under given circumstances? Were they too blinded by whatever was going on in their own lives to look around and see what was happening around them? Were they overwhelmed by what they saw and just didn't know what to do or how to do it? Or did they fail in their obligation to uphold the social contract by failing to make the hard call, even when that call may have violated a family's right to privacy but would have made a differenece in the lives of the children involved?

Trying to find out why no one stepped up to help protect us is sort of like asking, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Toostie Roll Tootsie Pop?"

So maybe I'll never know why, but what I do know is that the social contract is a living breathing part of the social fabric, so the beliefs of this contract are constantly evolving and changing. The social contract used to allow human beings to be sold and traded like commodities on the stock market. The social contract also used to allow women to be sold like property of men. And The social contract used to have laws on the books for the humane treatment of animals, but none for children. So, yeah. . . .the social contract is constantly evolving and changing. . . .and sometimes it's just going to break down.

The world is a very different place today, and there is so much more information about child abuse and neglect woven through the social contract. And the truth is that even if I were to answer the question of why no one did anything to help, it doesn't really change the fact that I'm only sleeping right now because I'm medicated, and the only reason why I feel better is because I have completely isolated myself down here in Prescoot, away from that which was triggering me.

So I'm clearly pissed off right now, as is my right to be. It's not fair that I have wounds from human induced trauma. It's also not fair that I have to medicate myself so that I can get a good night sleep, or take an unpaid leave of absence for a treatment program that may or not make any difference with the PTSD at all. Yeah, it's not fair, and I honestly have a right to be angry that I am once again forced to fight a battle that I neither want nor choose. But I'm a survivor, and a kick ass she warrior who's going to fight this battle and do what I can to heal this layer of wounds because that is the part that I do choose. . . .

Personal responsibility sucks :)

Move On, Already

Who gets to decide when it's time to move on?

The most frustrating part of having PTSD is that I'm not in control of the moving on process, because PTSD isn't about moving on. I don't dwell on the past because I enjoy feeling miserable, I focus on the past so that I can change the thoughts and beliefs that solidified around the trauma, trauma that actually occurred in the past, but thoughts and beliefs that make it so that I can't sleep in the present because my days are filled with anxiety and panic. . . .and my nights are all about escaping from some kind of pending doom that threatens my existence. This is why I focus on the trauma from the past. . . .because it's not really in the past at all.

PTSD is so not about moving on. . . .

This morning I woke up feeling like I am having a very public pelvic exam. They say, "You're only as sick as your secrets," but to process the dark and twisty truth in my blog. . . .well, I just end up feeling like I'm having a never ending and very public pelvic exam. So why do I blog about this process? Because it's the truth of who I am, the truth about the life I would never have choosen, but it is what it is. . . . whether I like it or not. So if someone wants to know me, really know me, then this is it. . . .the good, the bad, and the ugly. And it may be too much for some people, but that's ok, because there is another reason why I blog about this process. . . .

When I first started my journey of healing, I didn't know who to talk to, or where to go for help, because these things weren't talked about. But I had gone to a women's conference at UCR where I sat in on a 30 minute resource session for all-things-supportive-for-women, and that's where I first came in contact with what came to be my "bible," The Courage to Heal. This book was the first support I had, and so I read it in silence and desperation, sometimes only one paragraph at a time. But had it not been for the courage of Ellen Bass and Laura Davis to write about their pain (and their healing), I may not have made it out of that dark and twisty forest of silent shame and guilt. The Courage to Heal opened a window for me to find my way out, and so that's why I share my blog. I need to write it for myself, but I also need to let other women know that it's ok to talk about the pain. . . .because talking about the pain is the only way to move on through the pain.

Maybe there's no such thing as moving on. . . .maybe it's all about moving through. . . .

Keeping this stuff inside is like shaking up a carbonated soda bottle without releasing the cap. . . .that pressure is what's creating the anxiety and the panic and the sleeplessness, so I'm going to keep on writing until I don't need to write anymore, and that's just the way it is. Because there are parts of me that are like little POWs, children lost somehwere in time and space within my inner world. That's exactly what it is. . . .the silent wounded POW parts of me remain MIA. . . .so, no. . . .I'm not moving on until I can find them, and bring them all back to safety. . . .no matter how long that takes.

My MIA "inner children" won't ever show up on someone's breakfast table milk carton, but they are missing and scared, nonetheless. . . .and I don't know any parent that ever really gives up hope of finding a lost child, no matter how long ago that child may have been abducted or disappeared without a trace. So, I may not have mattered enough to the people who were supposed to love and keep me safe and protected along the way, but I matter enough to me. . . .so, no. . . .I'm not moving on. . . .I'm moving through, moving through the pain and debris, moving through in search of me.

No one else has to help my find these lost and frightened parts of my life. . . .but I do. . . .I do.

Does It Matter?

Awareness and Acceptance aren't enough to rewire the brain. What actually rewires the brain is Action, that three dimensional process of creating new connections, making new associations, doing something different enough for the brain to catalogue the difference and reroute the neurons into a new habit that will then function invisibly in the background of our lives.

The brain can (and will) rewire itself, but Awareness and Acceptance simply are not enough.

Habits are developed around beliefs. If a person believes that eating healthful food is important, then they are more likely to develop habits that include eating foods that better promote health than junk food. Just like how if a person believes they are going to die in two weeks, their lifestyle habits are also very likely going to change. . . .and quickly :)

What we believe shapes our habits, and our habits then reinforce what we believe, and all of this process functions silently and invisibly in the background of our lives. . . .that's the way God made our brains to work.

The problem is when invisible counterproductive beliefs shape our habits, and our then counterproductive habits reinforce the counterproductive beliefs. Like my invisible belief that I don't matter. . . .that belief has shaped a whole lot of lifestyle habits that don't promote my health very well, because when you don't matter, then it doesn't much matter what you do to take care of yourself. When a person invisibly feels like they don't matter, the inner mantra becomes, "What's the point? It doesn't matter....(because I don't matter)." That's the trouble with invisible beliefs. . . .they have a great deal of invisible power over a person's life.

My new life mantra is going to be, "Does it matter?" A question, not a statement. And not "it" in a general abstract way, but "it" in a specific does this matter ("this" being whatever I might be doing or not doing in a given moment). And then I have to answer the question AND justify why it matters (or not), because I have a sneaking suspicion that some things have been mattering way too much, while other things have not been mattering enough. So I'm questioning everything that matters....and everything that doesn't matter....and to whom it actually matters. . . .because the things that matter in my life are way out of balance. And I am fixing this imbalance, but the rewiring of my brain takes time and requires a great deal of patience. . . .but mostly, it just takes time, time for the awareness to settle into acceptance, and then time for the acceptance to work itself into new beliefs for the habits to restructure themsleves around.

I once read about how the indigenous people were unable to see the first boats exploring North America out on the horizon, because there was no concept within their brains to process "boat on the horizon." The first person to actually see the boats on the water's horizon was the shaman, and once the shaman saw the boats he was able to "rewire" the brains of the other tribe members so that they could see it too. That's the way it works with our brains. . . .if we can't comprehend it, we can't integrate and process the new information. That's how God made us.

So, we can't change what we don't accept. . . .and we can't accept what we are not aware of. But Awareness and Acceptance aren't enough, because we need Action to rewire the brain. Which is why my new mantra has become, "Does it matter?" Because I want the things that I do in my life to matter. . . .I want them to matter to me. . . .and I want them to matter to God. . . . even if it never matters to anyone else.

I never knew it would feel so painful to actually matter to myself and to fight this hard for a life that I would not have chosen had I been given the choice. But this is my life. . . .like it, or not. . . .and I really do want my life to be more than anxiety and insomnia and night mares and panic attacks. . . .so I'll do whatever it takes. . . .for however long it takes. . . .

Do I Matter?

What does it mean when we say to someone, "You matter to me?" Today's group centered around the belief/ stuck point of "I don't matter," which has caused me to think long and hard about the concept of "mattering" to other people.

Do I matter?

Of course, I matter. . . .I matter to God, I matter to me, and I matter to a whole lot of people in my world (for which I am very grateful). But I wasn't aware (until I could see another group member's process more clearly than my own) that I've been walking through my whole life as if I don't matter. . . .or, more specificaly, I have invisibly been walking through my life feeling like I don't matter.

But I see things very differently now. . . .

It's not that I don't matter (as a generalized cosmic truth). . . .it's just that I didn't matter enough to certain other people for them to have a relationship with me in a way that didn't include using me to meet their own needs, and in a way that left me deeply wounded in the process. That doesn't mean that I don't matter. . . .it just means that I didn't matter enough to someone else. . . .which is not the same thing at all.

But it's also a whole lot easier to say, "I don't matter" than it is to say, "I didn't matter enough to my dad so that he could love me in a way that didn't hurt me." Yeah. . . .it's a whole lot easier to just believe that I don't matter. It doesn't hurt to believe that I don't matter. . . . but it feels unbearably painful to believe that the first man I loved with all of my heart and soul didn't love me enough to rise above his own crap and baggage. . . .and love his daughter the way I deserved to be loved and cherished by my father.

Yeah. . . .it's definitely a whole lot easier to just believe that I don't matter. . . .

Part of life, however, is accepting a sometimes very painful truth that we don't always matter enough for someone in our life to love us the way we deserve to be loved. Or perhaps it's that we don't matter enough for someone to make time for us in the way we would like them to make time time for us, or the endless ways that we may not matter enough to someone else for them to give us what we would like to have from or with them.

It's not that we don't matter. . . .it's just that we don't always matter enough.

It hurts, of course. . . .to accept the truth that I didn't matter enough to my dad. . . .but it hurts in a way that unexpectedly feels good, like somehow the accepting of this truth means that I can finally move on from at least this part of my history, rather than stay locked into this frozen and immobilized place from which I can't move because I am hanging on to the hope that I will one day matter enough for him to love me the way that I deserve to be loved. And it's also the first truth that helps to explain why he did what he did, in a way that doesn't force me to be responsible for what he did. It's not that I don't matter. . . .I just didn't matter enough for my dad to rise above his own crap and baggage.

I do matter, of course. . . .I matter to God. . . .and I matter to me. . . .and ultimately, that's all that really matters anyway.