Grateful -vs- Gratitude

It always amazes me how I can know a word for my whole life, but then one day it just seems wrong somehow, or changed in a way that my brain no longer recognizes. That happened once with the word "tree," and no matter how many times I looked that word up in the dictionary, it just did not look like it was spelled right! Which also reminds me of the Friends episode when Phoebe's client/friend Steve smoked a joint and kept repeating the word "tartlets" because the word had lost all meaning. . . .lol.

The word that changed today was Grateful.

I bought a crappy little boombox yesterday because it was in the pricerange that I could afford, even though it wasn't what I wanted. But as it turned out, it wasn't just a crappy little boombox, it was a HUGE crappy little boombox, so there wasn't even a place where that monstrosity would fit! And as I was driving up the hill this morning to return it, I heard myself say, "Well, you should be grateful that you can afford anything at all!" Which is the exact moment when I became aware of just how much I use the word grateful when I have actually settled for something less than I really want (or deserve).

I should be grateful that I can afford to buy a crappy little boombox?

Maybe I can't afford (right now) to buy the CD player that I would really want, but does that mean that all that remains is for me to be grateful for crap? I don't think so. I would rather go without than try to force myself to feel grateful for settling for something that I even don't want in the first place. It's almost as if telling myself to be grateful for crap is an indirect form of punishment somehow. Or perhaps it's more the reminder that I don't really deserve what I want in the first place. But instead of being allowed to feel disappointed, I force myself into submission by reminding myself that I should be grateful.

I think there's a difference between this form of being grateful and what I believe is the true meaning of the word gratitude.

I know what it feels like to have an "attitude of gratitude," and it's an absolutely wonderful feeling, a feeling that makes my spirit laugh and dance in spite of crappy circumstances. But this other way that I use the word "grateful" has nothing at all to do with this kind of gratitude, because it feels very much more like a backhanded compliment from a "friend" who isn't really a very nice friend at all. I don't like that I force myself to feel grateful for something when it isn't really what I want. And I'm also aware of how very tired I am of settling for things that I don't really want because of some veiled belief that I don't really deserve what I want in the first place.

"I should be grateful" is really code for "beggers can't be choosers."

Well, I'm tired of feeling like a begger, because I deserve better than living a life in gratitude of crap. And I am just realizing that I've had this belief through my whole life. I am remembering how all through high school the boy I liked would call and talk with me for hours almost every night (even when he had a girl friend). . . .but he would ignore me at school because I wasn't one of the "cool" kids, so he couldn't afford to risk his reputation on being seen with the likes of me. I let that happen. I allowed him to treat me like a second rate piece of crap by telling myself that I should be grateful that this "cool and popular" kid gave me any attention at all. And not just him, either. It's not a pretty picture to look at my life through the eyes of a woman who no longer believes that she should be grateful for crap.

It's one thing to be grateful for the things that we have, especially when it could be a whole lot worse than what it is. But it is quite a different thing to force myself to be grateful when I have settled for far less than I deserve.

Well, I'm feeling very grateful for the lessons of the crappy little boombox now. . . .lol.

Going through the Motions

I love Chanty. I may not ever evolve to the playing of bagpipes, but I love playing Chanty. And I am discovering another unexpected lesson from Chanty, and that is the lesson of "going through the motions."

I've only been playing Chanty for just over two months, yet there are numerous times when I have either growled or snarled or loudly whimpered and whined because I felt so frustrated that I was never going to be able to learn  whatever it is that I am trying to learn. And it honestly feels like I'm never going to learn it, whatever the "it" of the moment happens to be.

But Don warned me. He told me that I would say, "There's no way I can do this!" a hundred times before I was done, but he also told me to keep going, even when it feels like there's no point. The tutorial book reinforces this idea, telling me to do the fingering correctly, even if it's out of timing, because the important thing to do is the fingering with clean notes, as that's how the fingers will learn how to do it correctly.

The important thing to do is to play clean notes, and the fingers will learn how to play it correctly.

The most recent frustration has been the "throws on D" that no matter how much I practice them, there is just no way that my fingers are ever going to move that quickly. But I keep going through the motions, just like Don and this tutorial book have been telling me to do. And one day last week my fingers quite unexpectedly started throwing on D, much to my great shock and awe. . .lol.

There's still much work to be done to play them well, of course. But I can't play or do something well until I have learned how to play or do the something in the first place. So I've become the queen of playing poorly, with the hope of one day playing well. Which sounds like a sad state of affairs, but I am feeling so much joy with even just the playing of Chanty poorly that the hope of one day playing her well is just the icing on the chanter cake.

So do my fingers have a mind and will of their own?

It's been a very odd experience to have to shift my thinking from "I am in control my fingers" to "just go through the motions and the fingers will learn what to do all by themselves." It seems like I'm in control of my fingers. . . .lol. I can consciously move them seemingly the way that I want them to move. But I am slowly beginning to understand that there is a process of learning that must become automatic, invisible, and outside of my ability to consciously control, in order for the playing (in the case the throws on D) with true precision and musical pride.

Who knew that my fingers would play best only when I get myself out of the way and just let them play all on their own.

On a completely different layer of my life, I am also being told to go through the motions. The theory of exposure therapy is telling me that since the lifestyle of avoidance behaviors has become such an entrenched part of the PTSD, the only way to undo these habits is to "go through the motions" of different behaviors, even if they feel fake or stupid or whatever else they feel, and eventually they will become the new habits I desire.

This is not at all what it feels like, of course. . . .just like with Chanty.

Well, in all honesty, I'm not enjoying the going-through-the-motions of Exposure Therapy as much as I'm enjoying the going-through-the-motions with Chanty. But Chanty is definitely helping me to trust the process on the one hand, because I can definitely see the fruits of the labor on the other. And while I'm not trying to learn "throws on D" in my personal life, Chanty is very much teaching me how to walk in faith that the going-through-the-motions with uncomfortable behaviors will eventually bring about the healing and change that I desire.

Who knew that Chanty would become not only a wonderful friend with whom I could joyfully dance and sing, but also a wise teacher who would become my beacon of light for a better life. . .

Beliefs

I have noticed a lot lately how I feel when I post certain blogs. Not the blog itself, really, but the content of certain blogs. And that's because I am very aware that what I believe is absolutely not what many of the people around me believe.

This is also a time of year that I see as a "battle of beliefs." Some people get highly offended if the word "holiday" is used in place of what they believe to be true. Yet other people get offended if you do offer them a specific greeting, especially if it's a greeting they don't personally believe in.

It's just a damned if you do, and damned if you don't time of year.

My personal pet peeve during this time of year is the pervasive belief that Christmas is a season. It's not. Christmas is one day, and one day only. There are lots of other days to be celebrated, other holidays during the season of Gratitude, Miracles, and Hope (which is what I believe this season to be). So I am not bothered that there are other holidays in the months of November and December that I do not personally celebrate.

Beliefs have great power to shape the course of reality.

My understanding of and relationship with God is changing, and it has been absolutely lovely to walk around feeling precious and special knowing that I was created for a unique and special purpose that I have yet to discover. And this new belief has also brought to the surface another outdated belief, the belief that I am inherently unloved and unwanted.

Believing one's self to be unloved and unwanted doesn't develop in a vacuum.

For my whole life I have grown up believing that I am inherently unlovable and unwanted. I've blogged previously about the context of being born to an unwed mother and a father who was married to another woman with two children who unknowingly became my half-brothers. It was also during an evolutionary period within a family system shaped by deeply held traditional Baptist beliefs, so the birth of an illigitimate daughter was anything but wanted and loved. And I invisibly held on to this belief as I journeyed through many other series of unfortunate events as they unfolded across time and space of my life.

But this is the season of Gratitude, Miracles, and Hope, and so it is possible for beliefs to change in an instant.

I never thought I would be able to move beyond the feeling unloved and unwanted, but I have. This new belief that God created me specifically and uniquely and with a specific and unique purpose really does change everything for me. And perhaps the story of my birth that focuses on the crises created in each of the two families I was born into is rooted in the belief that the illigitimate daughter born to an unwed mother and adulterous father is inherently unloved and unwanted. But there is more to this story than meets the eye.

Contrary to popular belief, I was not created by my parents. . .I was created by God.

So my birth isn't just about the human drama, because there's another story to be told. . .the story of how God created me specifically and uniquely with a purpose that I have yet to discover. And I'm honestly sorry that my newborn presence created so much pain and distress for everyone around me when I was born, but I didn't cause this distress, even if my illigitimate birth was the apparent and obvious cause.

God created this distressing event, not me. . . .so take it up with God.

Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Jesus, regardless of when his actual birthday might be. Which I look forward to celebrating with great joy and gratitude this year, because I find an unexpected appreciation of being born under circumstances that are less than normal. Although, in the case of Jesus I would have to rephrase that to greater than normal, as I'm not equating my own birth on the level of the birth of Jesus. But I do feel a sense of tangible connection with his birth in a way that I have not ever felt before.

And now I can see that Christmas isn't really about celebrating the birth of Jesus. Christmas is really about celebrating what many believe to be the purpose of the birth of Jesus, a purpose created uniquely and specifically for Jesus by God.

What a glorious day of celebration Christmas is going to be this year!

And wouldn't it be lovely if what was "normal" in this world was the belief that each and every person is created by God with a specific and unique purpose that make us all precious and special. . . .even if we don't always understand what that purpose is. . . .

Lord & Master

It's not an easy thing for me to openly admit that I've never really understood what it means to turn my life over to God. Some people refer to this as serving God's will, yet there are many different ways of giving language to this same concept. But I've never really understood what that meant in concrete terms.

What does it mean to turn my life over to God?

This past week I was made aware that I have a relationship with God the Creator, but I have no internal concept of God the Father or God the Lord & Master. Again, this is no easy admission for me, not to myself, and certainly not publicly in my blog. But it's true, nonetheless, and so I have been seeking to understand why.

Whose life is this?

I started from the most basic of all beginnings, and that is of my physical form. I did not create my body, yet I call it "my" body as if it belongs to me somehow. And this intrigues me how I call this body mine, when it clearly was created by God. And once I could release attachment to my physical form, I realized that the only part of my existence that really constitutes "me" is my thoughts, my feelings, my memories, my choices. In essence, it is only my will that fundamentally constitutes the "me" of my existence. . . .not my body. . . .definitely not my spirit. . . .and maybe not even my mind. . . .just my will.

My will is the only gift from God that truly belongs to me.

So if my body and my spirit essentially belong to God the Creator, then God is the rightful Lord & Master of both this body and this spirit, not me. And if this life that I am living doesn't really belong to me at all, then this is a truth that changes everything. I have always believed that God created me specifically and uniquely through my DNA, but now it is possible for me to also believe that there is also a specific and unique purpose for which both my body and my spirit were created by God, even if I do not now (or ever) know what this purpose is.

But does this mean that I am supposed to relinquish my own will and serve the Will of the true Lord & Master of this body and this spirit?

This is no simple question to answer, because at the deepest root of this question lies the issue of trust. I may be able to accept that God is the Creator of all things (including me), but to open up the possibility that even my life ultimitely belongs to God, and my job is nothing more than to live this life in service to this deepest purpose, then that means that I would need to trust that this deeper purpose will not contradict with the values and beliefs that I have come to know as that which defines me.

How do I recognize God's purpose for this life that I have been created to live?

I think none of this would even be an issue for me had I grown up with my self concept shaped as an instrument of God's purpose, but I didn't. So after nearly fifty years, to contemplate the possibility that my life may not actually be mine is a huge leap of faith and trust that this treasure map that lies dormant within my heart will not lead me into even deeper depths of darkness. And while God may, in fact, be the true Lord & Master of this body and spirit that I call me, can I really trust this map?

Can I trust this inner map of God's purpose for this life I have been created to live?

As selfish as this sounds, I don't know what it would mean for me to trust this deeper purpose for this life God created me to journey through. What if I hate the purpose that God created me to fulfil? Seriously, what if the purpose for which I was created is a hideous, boring, absolutely innane purpose? Even my asking of this question feels obnoxious, but it's the truth of what I feel right now!

Yet on another layer of this, it also feels like a huge burden of responsibility would be lifted from my shoulders. To let go of my need to figure everything out on my own would also mean that I could simply wake up each day trusting that I would be guided and supported along the journey of fulfilling the purpose for which God created me, which feels like a huge relief, actually. I had no idea how exhausting my life has been, this life shaped by the core belief that if I didn't do it, it wasn't going to happen. But to lay that belief down feels like a death of sorts, yet also like a renewed source of energy for my spirit at the same time.

Wow! It's just so clear how this core belief created a life map where I was responsible for everything, but had the power to control nothing. No wonder I am so exhausted!

It's also clear that both my body and my spirit have been created by God and encoded with the deepest purpose of my life. And whether I trust this inner treasure map or not, what I do know is that I will never find the treasure (the purpose for which God created me specifically and uniquely) if I do not trust it enough to allow it to unfold and speak its hidden language to me in a way that I can see and hear in my everyday life.

Knock, knock.

Now I'm feeling a little bit like Bilbo with my own unexpected journey knocking upon the door to my life, a journey that beckons me out into the vast unknown. Do I choose the illusion of safety and comfort of my warm and cozy home? Or do I seek to unravel the mystery that is already written upon my heart, a mystery that has invisibly shaped my journey all along?

It is funny how the curiosity of what this mystery might unfold really is greater than the fear or desire to remain warm and cozy. . . .because I really do want to know what this purpose is, a purpose that was important enough for God to create this amazing life that I am blessed to live in order to have this purpose fulfilled. A purpose that makes me feel precious and special in a way that I have never felt when I was living by the map of illusion of responsibility and control.

So I'm not the Lord & Master of "my" life--there are certainly far worse things that could happen to me. And it's not about a battle of wills, either (i.e., God's Will versus my own will). It's about making a choice between the life map created by a distorted belief that perpetually makes me feel responsible for everything (yet in control of nothing) and all alone in the world, and the life map created by God that makes me feel precious and special and supported along the way.

This is the moment, right here. I have travelled my entire life to reach this very moment. No one could have told me or shown me how to get here, as it is a moment that must be discovered all on one's own. Not even God could have brought me to this moment, because it is a choice that my will has to make, a choice to relinquish the map created by distorted beliefs in exchange for the treasure map that God has created for me (which, ironically, also makes it the only true moment of my life where if I didn't do it, it really wasn't going to happen).

It's funny how the irony of paradox works, but I think I'm finally ready to serve God. . . .

Finding God

My life has finally hit a turning point. Finding this PTSD Forum has helped me to learn what PTSD is, and also what it's not. I no longer hate the panic attacks. . . .which means that I am no longer fighting against them. . . .which ultimately means that I no longer hate or fight against myself.

Yes, I have definitely hit a turning point.

One of my uncles called me last night. . . .out of the blue. . . .in the middle of the dark night. He told me that he had read some of my blog and felt compelled to call me to tell me how precious I am, that he loves me very much, and that he has loved me for my whole life.

What a gracious and unexpected gift :)

He also told me that he completely understands what I'm going through with the panic attacks, and he shared with me how God had helped him through some of his own trials and tribulations. He told me to turn to God, that God alone holds the power to help me through this place where I am struggling.

The problem is that I don't turn to God for help, so I don't really know how to do so.

That may sound "weird" to some, but I didn't grow up with God. My mom, in her own way, thought she was helping us by letting us kids make our own choice about God and whatever church we wanted to attend. That may have worked had she given us language about and understanding of God at home, but she didn't. So I didn't grow up with God. And I especially didn't grow up with a God that I could turn to for help or protection.

On the contrary, I grew up in a world where I felt abandoned by those who were supposed to keep us safe and protected. That's not meant as a pitiful statement, but as a statement of fact. For many dark and twisted reasons, I absolutely grew up in a world where the people who were supposed to love and protect the little children didn't. And there was no God for me to turn to for help, comfort, or protection. So I learned very quickly that I was on my own, and if I didn't take care of whatever "it" was, it wasn't going to happen.

If I don't do it, it's not going to happen.

To grow up with this core belief meant that I was the only one capable of holding the chaos in my world at bay. Which also meant that I was in charge, that I was in control (which is exactly what a "parentied child" grows up to believe). I'm not "blaming" my limited parents or the observers who turned a blind eye to the fragments of our chaotic world that slipped through the cracks of family privacy. I'm just stating my personal truth, the historical fact that in my chaotic little world, if I didn't take care of it, whatever that "it" was, it really wasn't going to happen.

I grew up in a world that did not include God.

Well, I may not have grown up with God, but I did find God along the way, although I think the God I found is not quite complete and whole. Because in response to the conversation with my uncle last night, what I am beginning to realize is that while I absolutely believe in and have a wonderfully rich relationship with God the Creator, I do not know God the Father or God the Lord and Master. And that is precisely because I grew up in a world where I was the parent, and with a world view core belief that if I didn't do it, it wasn't going to happen. When there was chaos, I didn't ask God for help because I didn't grow up with this God. I did what needed to be done to protect my brothers and take care of my mom. That's what I did, becasue if I didn't do it, it didn't get done.

But I think I am outgrowing the world of illusion where I am my own Lord and Master.

Letting go of the illusion of control when you perceive the world as a terrifying, chaotic place is no easy task. But I think it's what I need to learn how to do. Accepting the truth that the panic attacks are something that I can't control is forcing me to look for help outside of my ability to take care of them, but I just don't have a lot of experience with this concept. And as condescending as it feels to me when other people tell me that I need to "Let go, and let God," I am seeing clearly that if I don't find a way to do just that, I will die alone and under the worst possible of deaths. And that's not at all what I want for myself. . . .not now. . . .not ever.

Let go, and let God?

To openly admit that I'm not in control is not about admitting weakness. . . .it's about admitting and naming the choas itself, because that's what I'm trying to control. It's not about the control itself, it's about the chaos that "needs" to be controlled. So to admit that I can't control something, is to admit that there is "something" that needs to be controlled, and that something is a wall of chaos that completely surrounds me, that utterly terrifies me, that leaves me feeling frightened and alone in the middle of what I've spent my entire life trying to control by deny it existed at all. So to let go of this illusion of control means that the wall of chaos is going to collapse in on me and flood my world with 50 years of truth never spoken.

So, right now, "Let go, and let God" feels like certain death, or worse. . . .

And while I may very well be outgrowing the world of illusion where I am in control, I don't yet know if I can believe in, let alone trust a world that includes a God the Father or God the Lord and Master who can deliver me from the chaos of this truth.

So I will continue on this journey. . . .in search of a world where God is in control. . . . one day at a time. . . .one turning point at a time. . . .

Avoidance & Exposure

Leaps of faith are not always what they seem to be, but they are leaps of faith, nonetheless.

I read an article last night on the PTSD forum about how the simple act of just reading information posted in the forum WILL increase PTSD symptoms, but that is exactly what needs to happen in order to help the PTSD brain to heal.

What?!

One of the hallmarks of PTSD, in fact it's one of the pieces of diagnostic criteria, is Avoidance with a capital A. Yet I have been highly defensive when my trauma counselor has repeatedly told me that my "life style of avoidance" is part of my PTSD. I have a life style of avoidance? Is she nuts?! But after reading that article last night I finally understand what she's been trying to tell me for this past year and a half.

I have developed a life style of avoidance.

After 27 years of panic attacks, I absolutely avoid identified situations that have triggered off panic attacks in the past. And, these areas of avoidance have generalized into an avoidance of activities where I am alone and isolated from quick resources for help, which has greatly limited my ability to do things that I enjoy, since most things I enjoy involve activities of solitude.

Avoiding what I enjoy also avoids the joy.

But, more importantly, I avoid people, people who I feel don't understand me or the way I choose to live my life, especially people by whom I feel harshly judged. When I was living at the canyon in that tiny microcosm of a closed community, I felt so exposed and vulnerable when I returned from my nearly 3 month leave of absence last year that I removed almost every single canyon-related friend from my Facebok account. Why? Because when I was standing in line at the general store, a fellow employee in the lane next to mine was whispering into the ear of his friend, very clearly talking about me, then they both looked over at me and started laughing. I know that shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. And not just on the surface, but very deep beneath all thicknesses of skin.

And so I deleted everyone from the canyon off of my Facebook.

I feel hideous enough all on my own. . . .so I certainly don't need the open ridicule of cruel and insensitive people heaping salt on top of the open wounds I work so hard to heal. And I'm starting to feel that "dump and purge" reaction rising up again, but that's not how I want to manage the anxiety I feel when I perceive other people not understanding me or judging me harshly. All I want is to feel like I am on equal footing, rather than the hideously damaged, broken, inferior person in the room. So I avoid people. And I avoid doing things I enjoy alone because I'm isolated from resources of help. And I avoid doing things I enjoy with other people because I avoid the people.

Vicious cycle. Catch-22. No win situation. It's no wonder I feel so isolated and alone.

Ultimately it's me who needs to change, not anyone else. Ultimately it's my perceptions about how other people think about me that needs to change, not how anyone actually thinks or feels about me. And I can be angry with other people all day long for not understanding or accepting me, but I'm only angry because underneath the heat of that layer of resentment and disgust I am really just utterly terrified of how they will respond to the truth of who I am. So I avoid people. . . .or I avoid the truth of who I am. . . . .a double edged sword of avoidance that only feeds and fuels the PTSD.

The solution, of course, is found in the theory of exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy tells the person with PTSD that they avoid what they are afraid of. Well, every single human being does that. But. . . .the person with PTSD does this to such an extreme degree that their life and relationships become dysfunctional (painful functioning) and/or afunctional (lack of ability to function). And exposure therapy further tells the person with PTSD that in order to heal their brain, they need to increase their symptoms, to flood their mind and body with a heightened stress and anxiety. Well, I can say with absolute certaintly that these are the exact opposite beliefs of someone who is living with PTSD. . . .lol. But exposure therapy reassures the person with PTSD that the increase in symptoms and heightened stress and anxiety are exactly what allow the mind and the body to finally process the stuck points, the thoughts and feelings that cause a person to avoid the persons, places, things, or ideas that are perceived as the source of the anxeity in the first place.

Holy crap, Batman!

It's interesting how I avoid the nouns in my world when the verbs are percieved as a threat in some way. And what I realize this morning is that this blog is such a very important part of my exposure therapy. This blog is where I battle with all of the nouns and verbs that I perceive as threat in some way to me and my personal integrity. This blog is where I confront the fear of what other people will think about me for having written nothing more than the truth of who I really am. And every single blog post I make, I challenge and hold accountable the thoughts and fears within my own mind that try to force me back down inside of this tiny little box where some tiny little frightened part of me believes that people in her world won't understand or accept her exactly as she is, even if it's exactly the way God created her to be.

Thank you, God, for creating my spirit larger than this frightened little part of me.

Very often there is great emotional intensity for me in the writing and (especially) the posting of my blog, but I post it anyway, because it's what I need to do. Then I sit back waiting for the fallout (which never really comes, but I anticipate it anyway). And now I understand that this heightened intensity is exactly what I need to help heal my brain, to help heal the damage caused by the PTSD poison. If I needed surgery to heal from a physical disease, I think people are more inclined to understand what's needed for recovery and healing. But healing all of these internal and invisible wounds? Not so easy for people (even myself) to understand.

The more I understand about my self, the less I care about what anyone else thinks.

My blog is literally saving my life, with no less importance as antibiotics can save the life of a body attacked by infection. Because this blog, as part of my exposure therapy, is helping me find the courage and strength to write about the truth of all the nouns and the verbs that create the story of me and the journey to my self. . . .even when the fear of doing so feels like it will crush me like a slow moving glacier across the landscape of my life.

After reading the lives of many other people living with PTSD who continue to choose avoidance over speaking their truth and risk of being hurt, I choose the risk of making myself vulnerable so that I can expand my world and bloom where ever I am planted. And as inconsequential as this blog may seem, each post of my blog is like a tiny little dose of antibiotics that fights the virus of Avoidance and heals my brain. . . .like a tiny leap of faith that I will survive no matter what anyone else thinks about what I write, no matter how anyone else responds to the truth that is me.

And, so, my healing journey continues . . . .one noun and verb at a time. . . .one post at a time. . . .one tiny leap of faith at a time.

Purpose, Finally!

One of the forum participants made a statement last night about how people communicate for a reason, that there is a reason why a person communicates something to another person. There is something that we want, or something that we need. And I awoke this morning with a clarity that runs much deeper than even this truth.

Every relationship is formed to serve a very specific purpose.

I have struggled for a while to define my purpose, but what I realize is that there is no single, central purpose to my life. My purpose is defined relationally, and specifically unique to each person, group, or community to which I belong. My purpose with each friend is different from my purpose as a sister, or my purpose as an employee, or my purpose with members of a group or organization to which I belong.

Every purpose defines the boundaries needed to carry out that purpose, informational boundaries, emotional information, physical boundaries, intimacy boundaries.

Like how I have many friends, but each friendship is uniquely defined around a specific purpose. That purpose may be mutually supportive processing, or sharing time together doing something we mutually enjoy, or talking about life philosophies for the mutual joy of philosophising. But each friendship has its own uinque purpose. It's the same with each and every relationship I have. . . .they are ALL created to serve a unique purpose.

And the unique purpose defines everything about that specific and unique relationship.

Businesses and corporations are formed and created based on a very clear purpose. It's called a mission statement. We generally don't formalize a mission statement with each relationship,but the relationship is still formed around its purpose. But I also think that much of the trouble that arises is because we haven't formalized the purpose of most of our relationships. . . .lol.

Wouldn't it be lovely if all relationships had their mission statements clearly defined?!

All relationshps have a "contract" of sorts that is either explicit (as is the case with business relationships) or implicit. The trouble with implicit relationship contracts that form the purpose of the relationship is that people end up participating in things they never agreed to! Or people change the purpose without even asking if you agree. Or people have a hidden agenda weaving its way around the purpose. . . .lol. It's all so clear!

I think a lot of people (not all, but a lot) are very uncomfortable with talking openly and directly about what they want or need from a relationship, which is probably why it happens so rarely on the surface, and mostly as this vague process that just seems to "happen" somehow....lol.

Or maybe this is something that other people naturally do already, and I've just now figured this out. But understanding what I want/need/expect from/of other people feels like I am understanding the nature of my relationships for the first time in my life. It helps to understand why I feel so uncomfortable and panicked when I am asked/forced against my will to have my purpose changed in relationship with someone (as is the case around certain trauma events).

So that's where I am today. . . .seeing and understanding for the first time how my life purpose is actually defined. And looking at the relationships that actually define my purpose by asking the simple and fundamental question of what purpose the relationship serves for me, and what is my purpose in the relationship itself. I really want to understand what I am needing/wanting/expecting of/from the people in my life, and also what I think is needed/wanted/expected of/from me. This last question will be what I think, but it's a starting point for me, for certain.

So this process of clarifying the purpose that defines me within significant relationships may take some time, but it will be well worth the effort, indeed!

The PTSD Tree

[This post is a repost from my "private" blog where I am documenting the "exposure therapy" process. . . .it emerged on the other side of writing a point list of trauma that I have experienced in my life. . . .trauma in the strictest sense, as an event that caused real or perceived threat to my life or being.]

If PTSD were a tree, this list would be the roots, the parts of the tree that grow in darkness, deep and underground. The trauma roots absorb the water and minerals from the earth, nutrients that form the physical strength and structuring of the tree, just as trees are supposed to do.

If PTSD were a tree, the symptoms would be the leaves that flitter in the wind, drawing the attention of the cruel and insensitive looky-loos passing by, leaves that convert sunlight into food that feeds the tree, just as trees are supposed to do.

The problem is that PTSD isn't the tree. The tree is me. I am the tree. These roots of trauma are MY roots. These leaves of symptoms are MY leaves. The PTSD is like an acrid poison that's been absorbed from the dark soil because the tree didn't know any better, and is now fed by a sun that doesn't even know that her radiant, beautiful energy has been used to kill the tree. . . slowly. . . .invisibly. Not because the tree wants to die, but because the roots of the tree and the leaves of the tree are only doing what a tree is supposed to do.

So the tree learns to despise and mistrust the harshly judgmental looky-loos, because they don't understand the tree. They don't understand why the tree looks the way she does. They don't understand why she behaves the way she does. And they don't even try to understand. So they rain on the tree with harsh judgment that seeps through the dark soil to mix and mingle with the acrid poison absorbed by the roots of trauma.

Over time, the tree begins to hate her roots and loathe her leaves. She tries to cut the roots out from beneath her, but they only grow back, deeper, stronger. And the leaves that she sloughs off, they grow back too, only they're bigger and stronger than the leaves she has tried to destroy. But she doesn't understand why, so she feels ugly and alone, wondering why God would create a tree with roots that absorb poison and leaves that convert radiant beauty into food that only feeds the dark poison's purpose. So she turns her face away from the sun, waiting for the death she hopes will release her quickly from this life of endless pain and suffering.

Then one day the tree happens upon other trees that look just like her. Trees that also have roots of trauma and leaves of symptoms that flutter in the wind. Trees that are misshapen, too, just like her. And not just a few trees, but an entire grove of trees, all with their faces turned toward the sun, dancing and singing stories of hope. The trees tell stories of how the roots and the leaves are what make the tree strong and vibrant and were never the problem in the first place (because the roots and leaves really were only doing what they are supposed to do), that the PTSD poison was the problem all along.

They also tell stories of how they're all learning from each other, learning how to absorb the nutrients they need from the dark soil, even from soil that is saturated with the PTSD poison, because they're learning how to transform the poison into less toxic poisons and develop immunity to the poisons they can't transform. And they tell stories of how they are now free to receive the radiant beauty from the sun without fear of feeding the PTSD poison that they may never be able to completely stop from being absorbed from the dark soil.

The hopeless, despondent tree is shocked and stunned by these stories that seem surreal and impossible. Yet she sees with her own eyes how beautiful these trees are while they're dancing in the sun and singing stories of hope. So she sits with the trees in the sun-filled grove, and she listens to the stories these trees have to share. And while she can't yet imagine that she, too, will one day be dancing in the sun and singing stories of hope and freedom to other hopeless, despondent trees yet to find their way to the grove, she slowly starts to feel the warmth of hope wrapping itself gently around her weary roots and leaves.

Two Worlds

This week has been a blur for me. It's hard to imagine that just a week ago, I was in such a different place. Making these connections has changed so much, and finding the PTSD Forum, well, there are no words for what this has done for me. But it's also making something else very clear for me.

There is great liberation in speaking my truth without having to even think twice about it. I can talk openly about PTSD with NO fear or shame. And I also don't have to worry about the other person getting uncomfortable, because everyone in the forum is dealing with PTSD. We're all in there because we're dealing with PTSD either directly or indirectly, so there's no skirting around it.

With PTSD, it is what it is.

But now what I'm finding is that when I switch back and forth between the PTSD Forum and Facebook, I am all too aware of how I am now living in two completely different worlds. One world accepts me absolutely unconditionally, and I can speak a dark truth without fear or offending or overwhelming anyone. And the other world is a world where I tuck myself down into a box of silence, fear, and shame of who I essentially have become, and I don't like it.

I don't want to live in two different worlds, but I don't know how to be who I am outside of the unconditional paradigm created by the PTSD forum world.

I have created a new blog. It's a blog of the journal that contains the Exposure Therapy process guided by the PTSD Forum. On the PTSD Forum they're called "trauma diaries," and they are openly posted. . . .the good, the bad, and (especially) the ugly! They're not intended to be "diaries" in the way that we normally think of diaries, but they are a diary of sorts. So I am posting my journey of this exposure therapy process in the forum, and secretly in my new blog. But I am feeling like there is a complete division between my two worlds that keeps me boxed up within myself in one of them.

For all of my life I have felt like I am less than everyone around me, because I have intuitively known that I wasn't "supposed" to share the stories of my life. But now that I have found a world where it's not only OK to share these stories, I am learning that the NOT sharing of the stories is, in part, what continues to fuel and feed the PTSD!

My silence is your comfort!

It's funny how I remember this phrase from a feminist artist's work, but I can't even remember her name. . . .oh, well. The point is that I remember it because it's absolutely relevant to my life! And I am having to look at my life and the real world I live in from a whole new perspective, and I am going to have to make some very hard decisions about the people who are within my world. Because I'm not willing to die a slow and painful death in order to modulate other people's emotional responses anymore.

I have honestly reached a place of critical mass with this issue, so either people are going to love and accept me as I am, or they can no longer be a part of my life.

Every day I interact with people (face to face and online) who share all about their life. . . their new jobs, the wonderful stories about their children, the new cars, or whatever their life is about, (and I love hearing these stories). But what's in my life every single day is a struggle for personal integrity and a fight for the will to survive. That's what's real for me. So the things that I find exciting are about whatever new I'm learning about PTSD. . . .what new therapies I'm trying. . . .what new books I've discovered. . . .what wonderful insights I've made. These are the facts about MY life that are relevant to me! But I don't feel like I can share these truths without causing other people discomfort (or worse!).

"Just because YOU don't understand PTSD, doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

My new mantra. . . .and I mean it, because I'm going to die, literally, if I have to hold all of this crap inside. And now that I really understand what I'm dealing with, I'm just not willing to shield and protect the people around me. If my world is ever going to be secure and stable, it will only happen if I am secure and stable, not by trying to control my external world to indirectly create that security and stability for me.

Why could I not see this before?!

Filling in the Gaps

I think the Japanese have the right idea. When something gets broken, they don't throw it away. . . .they repair it. . . .and not only just repair it, but they fill in the gap with gold because they believe that the crack makes it more intesting.

It's not flawed, it becomes more valuable!

This isn't the way we Americans deal with broken things. . . .and it certainly isn't they way we conceptualize "broken" people, either. And I don't know how to describe what it feels like to have people fill in the gaps with misinformed judgment condescending ignorance about PTSD and all the ways that it can affect the life of a human being.

I am just begining to understand myself. My PTSD went undiagnosed for 27 years! So everything even I've been doing has been following the wrong trail of bread crumbs. But I have found a forum of people who are JUST LIKE ME, so I've been filling in the gaps with a completely different understanding of what's happening in a body and my mind that was created by God to do exactly what it's doing, so there is actually nothing "wrong" with me at all.

I'm done apologizing for the way God made me.

I have PTSD. That's not who I am, it's what makes me uniquely me. There is a difference. I'm not broken and damaged, either. My brain may have been scarred by past trauma, but it is healing itself exactly the way that God intended for the brain to heal itself. Yes, there are problems with the way that my brain is trying to heal itself, because that's what scar tissue can sometimes do. And I am doing absolutely everything I can to help my brain to release the trauma stuck points so that it can heal in more productive ways. . . .

. . . .BUT. . . .

I am NOT where I am because I don't know how to relax. . . or because I'm thinking negative thoughts. . . .or because I just don't want to move on. . . .or because I enjoy living a life filled with panic attacks, nightmares, and chronic insomnia. . . .No! And what I really want to say to people right now is, "Just because YOU don't understand PTSD doesn't mean that there's something wrong with ME!"

Wasted Time

An interesting day. . . .not feeling well, so I'm all huddled up at home. But I've also been feeling like my life could have turned out so very differently had I been diagnosed correctly back when the panic attacks first began. . . .which seems like past 27 years have been wasted years. . . .

They haven't been, of course. . . .because I needed to experience everything else, even if it was painful and difficult. I'm getting the information I need now, and the resources I need to do the kind of work I need to do, so that's all that really matters.

The PTSD forum that I found is so much more than just information and support. And the Trauma Diaries are not online journals, either. I'm not familiar with Exposure Therapy, but I am about to become well immersed in it. Right now it's all about me. . . .what I need . . . .what I want. . . .and what I'm willing to do to get there :)

So tonight I feel grateful and hopeful from a completely different place. . . .so we'll see what this new year brings!

Brainspotting

Over the summer, a friend of mine asked me why I was still having panic attacks after all of these (long) years. I reminded her of the trauma I experienced in basic training just before the panic attacks began. She said, "No, I understand that. . . . but why do you still keep having them?"

Why do I still keep having panic attacks?

It's such a brilliant question, but I didn't have an answer for her when she asked me, because I don't really know why I still keep having them. . . .or why I can't sleep. . . .or why I continue to have nightmares. . . and on goes the list of PTSD symptoms. But PTSD is a diagnostic label that provides a clinical description of symptoms. . . .it's not an explanation of why I still suffer with them.

PTSD does not explain why I still suffer with the panic attacks.

The most important turning point for me continues to be the biofeedback session earlier this year when I was sitting in front of this machine measuring physiological parameters with 97% coherence (near perfect degree of relaxation), yet I was experiencing a series of panic attacks during the biofeedback session. This scientific evidence that my panic attacks are NOT caused by me simply not knowing how to relax changed everything for me. . . .changed the way I contextualized the panic attacks. . . .changed the questions that I ask. . . .but, more importantly, it changed the way that I feel about myself for having the panic attacks in the first place.

The evidence changes everything.

And because I'm asking different questions now (no longer looking for ways to learn how to relax), I am finding different answers and pieces of information that shape very different perspectives. I have been extensively researching insights about the brain from neuroscience journals. Dr. Amen's work clearly shows brain scans of a person having a panic attack is identical to a person having a seizure. There is also very clear evidence that PTSD (especially when left untreated) can cause micro trauma to some brains with residual scarring that creates "hot spots" in the brain leading to varying degrees of psychogenic non-epileptic seizure activity (which also supports the scans obtained by Dr. Amen).

PTSD can create scarring in the brain and cause seizure activity.

This is finally the first explanation that makes sense based on what I have actually experienced over the course of the past 27 years, and I do believe that the PTSD has evolved into low level seizure activity. They're not epileptic seizures, but they are seizure activity. . . .electrochemical misfirings in the brain. I am also convinced that all "mental disorders" will one day reveal that it's ALL about what's happening in the brain. . . .but that is not my journey. . . .my journey is about understanding and learning how to live functionaly with a brain that makes my life extremely difficult, to say the least.

And today my journey was introduced to information about Brainspotting.

Brainspotting is an offshoot of EMDR, so it's still relating to eye position, but the underlying issue with this theory is that brainspots develop around trauma. . . .and then the brain will unconsciously respond to similar emotional experiences the same way as whatever survival mechanism was employed in response to the traumatic event. This is actually the way the brain processes every experience, whether positive or trauma based, we tend to respond in similar ways to similar events. . . .but some trauma events get "stuck" in this survival mechanism, creating maladaptive problems with apparently invisible causes. But once a brainspot is located and the "stuck" part is processed, the emotional trauma is released, and the brain in that area begins to function in a much more productive way.

The root of an emotional response, otherwised known as "core issues" is what creates the brainspots.

I recently came to understand that I do not process fear directly, but rather I experience a range of deflective responses that all fit  into a box called "Anger." I think this is a "brainspot" for me, the root of which creates a "brainspot" because any thing that emotionally feels like I am threatened elicits this same highly maladaptive response. . . .which now provides a tangible link between my body and mind.

So I am finally starting to find some peace with the panic attacks. . . .but there is much more work to be done. . . .much more work to be done, indeed. Finding someone who can do the MEG brain scans required to identify the micro scar tissue will not be easy (or inexpensive), but for now I will continue on with the interventions that help to release the trauma and heal the brain. But at least I finally have an answer (for myself) that makes sense about why I continue to have panic attacks. . . . even if it doesn't fix them or make them go away. . . . at least now I can understand why they don't easily go away. . . .

Ripples of Anger

I've been thinking a lot about the role that anger has been playing in my life. Several weeks ago I became aware that I was being sarcastic with a friend because I was angry...but the deeper (and much more important) awareness was that I was angry because I was actually scared.

I get angry when I'm scared.

I shared this awareness with a friend who commented back that she would rather feel angry than scared because anger motivates her to action, whereas she feels immobilized when she's afraid. I could see that growing up I didn't have the luxury of feeling afraid, so I learned very early in life to "step over" the fear and quickly move into the anger that empowered me to take care of situations, no matter how scary they might have actually been for me at the time.

But there is much more to this anger than meets the eye.

Looking back across my life I see my anger outbursts in a whole new light. I remember one particular art class, a drawing class when I was at UCR. We had a model who sat in the middle of the room, but I couldn't get past drawing what my left brain kept telling me the way that I "should" be drawing it, and I became so frustrated that I had to leave class because I had a small melt down in the hallway, a burst of anger that resulted in a torrent of tears, but when that passed, I was able to sit down and draw the still life perfectly. When the instructor looked at my amazing drawing and asked what happened, I told her that I got angry, and she said, "Well, that must be your process."

Who knew how deep that truth actually ran.

So I've been observing my anger these past few weeks, and I am greatly disturbed by what I see.  There are so many different ways that my anger manifests. And I'm not talking about being angry when there's something that "should" make me angry....I'm talking specifically about this protective layer of anger when I'm actually feeling scared or threatened in some way, because I don't just get angry when I'm scared, I also get very sarcastic...or arrogant....or avoidant....and all of this diversion only serves to keep whatever else I'm really feeling safely tucked away, down deep beneath the surface, ever and always outside of my awareness.

My panic attacks are like volcanoes violently erupting from the depths of all of the fear that lies buried far beneath the surface anger!

That's exactly what they are. And I find it very interesting this paradoxical dichotomy of my intrepid self and this person whose life is immobilized by the panic attacks. I think that's exactly what can happen when there is no direct voice for the fear. .  . .the fear will find a way out, even when the mind and mouth can not acknowledge that truth.

Fear will  find a way to speak its truth, even if it has to move mountains of denial.

I also find it interesting to think about the "volcano" genre of dreams that I've had off and on for many years. I used to think that the volcanic lava represented the repressed anger. . . . .lol. But now I understand that the volcano dreams are about all of the FEAR that doesn't ever get acknowledged or expressed, because it gets masked by the anger trying to empower the immobilized self that's really feeling scared and afraid. . . .and so it's forced to erupt in a flow of panic that doesn't just immobilize me, it pushes me to the brink of sanity and complete exhaustion.

I want to know what I'm feeling beneath my anger so that it doesn't have to erupt in an uncontrolled flow of panic.

This isn't going to be easy, because right now I only have the ripples of anger on the surface to serve as a guide to what is really going on. But I'm very glad that I am at least aware of this deflection process that takes place so invisibly, even it's taken nearly 50 years to see it for what it is.

Amazing.

So this isn't going to fix itself quickly or overnight, but I will continue to observe my anger and search for the deeper layers of what I am experiencing beneath the anger, which will at least open up space for me to be more authentic and honest about what's going on, rather than snipping and snapping sarcastically at the people I also care very much about :)

What If

There are many things that cause a person's life to change course and direction, and I don't mean the little twists and turns, I mean the events that cause a radical and life altering change. Today I had a conversation that causes me to think long and hard about how my life would be different, if I haven't had to deal with the dreaded panic attacks all of these long years.

What if I'd never had a panic attack? How would my life be different?

The funny thing about asking deep questions is that very often the answer is not at all what you think it's going to be when asked up at the surface. And when I doodled out a mini life inventory of each life altering point along my journey, the truth is that my life has been much more altered by the cancer, than ever by the panic attacks.

Then why am I so topsy-turveyed by the panic attacks?

Looking at this life map, it's shocking to see that three of the major life jolts in course and cause were motivated by the three different cause-and-effects of each round with cancer. But, once the path was diverged, then life mellows out. The difference with the panic attacks has been that no matter what I do, or where I live, the constant threat of a panic attack affects my quality of life in an every single day way that leaves me feeling jaded, bitter, and exhausted.

The unexpected truth is that it has been much easier to make peace with cancer than with these dreaded panic attacks.

Asking "What if?" can very often cause nothing but grief and heart ache, but there are those rare occasions when the act of asking the question opens up awareness into a whole new way of thinking. And this is one of those times, because there are some really wonderful insights that came from this dive down into my soul today. Like how I have not let the panic attacks stop me from ultimately doing what I want to do. They have clearly made my journey much more difficult and challenging, but I would pretty much have ended up in the same place. . . .doing the same thing. . . .and that (for me) is encouraging news!

I love when my assumptions about my self get turned upside down on their heads.

So I will continue on with this journey of making peace with the panic attacks. I may never love them, but I definitely want to have a different relationship to them. . . . .to coexist in peace with them. . . .even if I can't ever fix them or make them go away. . . . .one day at a time. . . .one day at a time.

Under God

I subbed for a Social Studies class today, and I came across a little blurb about Francis Bellamy, the person who wrote the original Pledge of Allegiance. I have been thinking a LOT about the Pledge of Allegience lately because there is so much controversy flying around Facebook about the two little words, "under God."

Who knew that there could be so much controversy found in just two little words.

When I got home tonight I searched the history of this powerful pledge, and wikipedia has some really great history on the evolution (oh, there's another powerful word) of the Pledge of Allegiance. I think most ironic is the fact that Francis Bellamy was a Christian Socialist. . . .which seems like an oxymoron based on today's standards. . . .but that is for another day's blog.

The two words in question were signed into law by President Eisenhower on Flag Day, June 14, 1954, something that most likely would not happen given the present administration, but that is also a conversation for another day's blog. For today's blog, what I am thinking about is how important it is that these two words never be removed from the Pledge of Allegiance because it is the clearest truth about the order of things. . . .the essential truth that we really should never forget.

One nation, under God. . . . .

I think for some people they interpret this to mean that God somehow blesses our nation, but that's not what it means to me. Our nation IS under God, because God is always above our nation (or any other, for that matter). I've seen other people phrase this as "God's in charge," and that's exactly what it means for our nation to be under God.

Jesus saw the truth of this long before our nation enacted these words into law when he told the people to "Give unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's, and to God what is God's." God does not create money, not then, and not now. God also does not create nations or global economies, as these are things of men, not of God. We "civilized" humans have created nations and the governments that run them, we have created money and the economies upon which they are dependent. But these are not the concerns of God. . . .these are the concerns of mankind, the creator of such trivial things.

What I see is the very dangerous trend  of looking to the President of this nation as a savior of sorts, looking to this one person (man or woman) to fix all of the problems that lay before us and also calm the worry and anxiety, instead of looking to God who is above the nation. So the reminder that our nation is under God helps me to keep things in perspective. . . .with this administration, or any other that might be in temporary charge and control, because God's power really is the only power that's ever in control of anything. . . .

One nation, under God. . . . .what a lovely reminder of what's really important :)

Chanty's Charm

Today was a lovely day. . . .off exploring some of the hiking trails right here around where I live. I brought Chanty with me. . . .my new best friend. . . .and as I was walking the trail, I was thinking about how we humans are very much like a chanter.

Every chanter, even though it is drilled the same way, still has its own unique sound, tone, and timber. . . .just like people.

I am learning how to play the chanter, and it's not easy. There are holes to navigate and air flow, but the part that was fascinating me today was how the chanter is just the structure. . . .and what makes the chanter play is ultimately the air that blows through. . . . .just like a human body is just the structure for the spirit that God blows through to make each of us come alive with our own music of the soul.

But what if my Chanty had a mind of her own?

If Chanty had a mind of her own, she would also have a will of her own. So, what if she wanted to play different notes than what I wanted to play? What if she played a long, slow, sad durge when I wanted to play a jig? And what if she refused to let the air flow through the holes out of spite? Or what if she believed that she was damaged and broken, unworthy of music to be played through her at all?

I think this is the dance we all dance with God. . . .that battle between who's in control, and whose will we follow. . . .and it makes me think of my life in completely different ways. So as silly as this sounds, I want Chanty to love what she sounds like, even if I make her squak and squeek. I also want her to love what she looks like, even when she gets dinged up from the accidental drops and falls that have already (unfortunately) happened, because she's perfect, just as she is. I can see that about her. . .but I also want her to see that in herself.

If I were a chanter, and God were the Piper, I also know that He would want me to love myself just as I am, too. . . .with all of the dings and dents that I've collected along my nearly fifty year long journey. . . .just like I want for Chanty. So I'm letting go of the need to change who I am so that I can live the life I want, simply by living the life I want. . . .even if nothing ever changes.

No one ever said that letting God be the Piper was going to be easy. . . .

And it's not always easy for me to love what I sound like, or love what I look like with all of the scars that pinch painfully from time to time, but if Chanty can do it, then so can I. . . . so, play on, little chanter girl. . . .play on :)

Too Much Information

I'm on information overload tonight. I've been unpacking some of the boxes of books, and I am overwhelmed by all of this information. But more than that, I am overwhelmed by the fact of how much I do not accept myself as I am, because the vast majority of these books are one form of self-help or personal growth book intended to change some part of me or my life.

Why can't I accept myself as I am?

The answer to this question floods my mind with endless self-hatred. I hate my life. I hate what the panic attacks have done to me and my life. I hate that I can't control them. And I feel stuck in a nightmare from which I can't force myself to wake.

Well...that may be true, but I am going to sort through these books, one by one until I have purged my library and my life of any program intended to change who I am. If I haven't fixed what's wrong by now, it's either not broken, or it's unrepairable. And I don't want to waste any more of my life trying to fix what other people have broken. . . .it's like the trees that have grown around something that was never intented to be a part of the tree, but is now embedded from years of growth around it. . . .and there's no real way to remove the object without killing the tree (or doing serious damage to it).

So acceptance is the answer. . . .even if it's acceptance of a crappy set of life circumstances.

Positive Mental Attitude

I am having a moment of clarity today, clarity that is already helping to bring about some peace and serenity to my life. And that clarity is simply the awareness that Positive Thoughts do not necessarily mean Happy Thoughts!

Positive thoughts are nothing more than thoughts that start with "I can" (rather than "I can't").

It's such a simple awareness, yet separating out the requisite need for a positive thought to be a happy thought frees up all kinds of possibility. Because it means that I may feel unbearably sad/anxious/panicked, but I can still maintain a positive mental attitude. If I find myself in the middle of a dark storm, saying the words I can endure this storm IS creating a positive mental attitude! I may not ever be able to stop or change the storm itself, but thinking I can thoughts is absolutely maintaining a positive mental attitude. . . .it's the I can't thoughts that create the negativity that undermines and sabotages.

Why have I allowed myself to be duped into believing that Positive = Happy?

Last week I had my initial session with a new/different trauma therapist, and we talked a lot about acceptance. It is absolutely unfathomable for me to "accept" the reality of the panic attacks, and this fact seems to be a stuck point. But we also talked about the possibility that the panic attacks (as unproductive as they may be) are nothing more than my brain's way of trying to heal itself. So we reframed the panic attacks as a "healing crisis" rather than a broken and dysfunctional brain, and she suggested that by accepting the panic as something that may never change, I can still change my relationship to it, change the way that I think about the panic attacks.

I can change the relationship I have with the panic attacks, even if I never accept the panic attacks themselves.

Another mantra I have integrated into my daily life is something from the Alanon literature (the "Just for Today..." pamphlet). So when I meld these two ideas, what I end up with is a whole list of positive thoughts that shape and form a positive mental attitude, thoughts that have absolutely NOTHING to do with happy thoughts, or even "feeling" happy at all!

Just for today, I CAN handle/endure the panic and anxiety, even if I can't stop or change it!

What I realize is that there are definitely imbalances and disturbances in the way that my physical world interacts with my mental/emotional world, but this chaotic interaction is not the end all and be all of the equation, because there is a third world that also collides with the other two. . . .the world of my spirit self. . . .and this is the deepest and most enduring truth of who I am.

My physical self is going to one day cease functioning and decay back into earth that has created and nourished my body for all of these long years. And while I may not know what will happen to my mental/emotional self once the physical self has died, I absolutely know that my spirit self will live on with God.

And I'm not saying that everything is fixed by this awareness, but at least I feel that I really can do this. . . .I can get through this day, even in the presence of anxiety and panic. . . .because the panic is all about a positive and life affirming healing crisis in my physical self. And I can choose the thoughts and beliefs that create a positive mental attitude, even if the thoughts themselves are not "happy" thoughts. . . .which then frees up my spirit to find and appreciate the beauty of God that surrounds and embraces me. . . .which is what the purpose of life is all about anyway. . . .

Two Worlds

There are many reasons why people remain silent about the truth of what's real in their lives, but tonight I am grateful for those rare and courageous souls who are brave enough to share their personal truth, in whatever form that may be.

We never know who needs to hear exactly what we need to say. . . .

One of my friends shared a blog of another person, actually, a man who is learning how to deal with a person with Alzheimer's disease. He has come to understand that the person lives in what he calls "Alzheimer's world," while he lives in a world with a completely different reality. He actually takes a step to the left before he responds to the skewed reality so as to remind and reinforce within himself that he is stepping into a different world with a completely different reality than his own.

This is exactly how I feel about the way the PTSD world collides with my own world, a collision that skews and screws with my reality. Only these two worlds exist within myself. . . .so how do I step to the left within my own mind?

I am still trying to integrate how as I sat connected with the biofeedback machine, my physiological parameters were reading "relaxed," all the while I was having a panic attack. And if I hadn't been sitting in front of that machine watching the data myself, I might not even believe it, but it was what it was. My body was having one experience of reality while my mind was experiencing another.

And it's hard enough to try to explain what happens within my own experience, let alone to someone who is outside of the experience completely. The doctors tell me I just need to learn how to relax, but the biofeedback machine actually tells me very clearly that I DO know how to relax, so it's so not a relaxation problem. And a well intentioned friend recently suggested that I focus on positive images when I meditate, as if that were something that I have never done or even thought of doing before.

PTSD is just sooo not about learning how to relax. . . .and it's certainly not about focusing on happy thoughts.

I have seen images of PET scans and SPECT scans from a person having a seizure, a person having a panic attack, and a person having an orgasm. And when these images are laid out side by side, it is virtually impossible to distinguish one from the other (which is just incredibly amazing. . . .and terrifying for me, personally, because I may not have Alzheimer's, but I absolutely feel the frustration of the people around me who don't understand anything about my incredibly high maintenance process as I try to create a functional life with these two different worlds colliding inside of my mind).

I think at this point it's just so much easier to isolate myself off from the rest of the world.

I have actually started to feel like death is no longer the worst thing that could happen to me. . . .and I don't mean that in a suicidal kind of way. . . .just the dark truth spoken out of hopelessness that there will never be life beyond the panic and chronic sleep disturbance that leaves me so completely exhausted and exasperated.

Oh, how I really do wish that I could just step to the left within myself. . . .when the PTSD world collides with my own. . . .

Routine

One of my favorite films is Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andy McDowell. I love how he keeps repeating the same events of the day until he finally gets it right. . . .which is such a great metaphor for the lessons we need to learn in life. But something has been bothering me for a few days. . . .and that's because my life has started to feel like it's turning into Groundhog Day for real. . . .and I'm not quite sure what to do with that.

The problem is routine.

It's been almost a month since I quit my job and moved down here to Prescott Valley, so I have a lot of "extra" time on my hands, and I've been working hard to create a daily living routine that I can live with, one that's going to best support my health. But I have quickly moved beyond the excitement of this new life, and have started to feel the rattlings of boredom. But it's not really that I am bored with my life, but I'm definitely getting bored with the daily routine of my life.

The problem's not the routine. . . .the problem is that you are bored with the routine.

Changing my life from the ground up means that I am shaping the life I want starting from when I wake up. So that means that when my alarm goes off at 5, I should be out and running by 5:30, and then the rest of the day follows from there. But I am already dreading going to sleep because I know that I will have to wake up and go running! And it's not so much about not wanting to go run, because I do. . . .it's a deeper and more sinister feeling at work.

The problem is that you are dreading the fact that when you wake up you will have to run.

All I've done is add the running to my day, but already I am feeling like my life is no longer my own. . . .because there is this expectation that a certain amount of my day is dedicated to running, and the part of me that wants to be free to do whatever she wants is scruffing and protesting this new change! I am still free to do whatever I want for the rest of my day, but this roughly 30 minutes of time dedicated to the running is really upsetting the way my life has been balanced, and I am absolutely fascinated by that fact.

The problem is that your daily routine is out of balance.

I don't scruff if I have to go to work for 8 hours. . . .because that expectation she has already accepted and integrated, but I am honestly feeling resentful of the fact that tomorrow morning I have to take 30 minutes of my time to go run. . . .lol. And what would I be doing if I weren't running? Probably sleeping in or just laying there thinking (which is a total love fest for me). . . .but I am resentful right now that when I wake up I have to go run!

Ahhh. . . . the problem is that you are resentful of the new routine and resentful that you have to give up something that you also want to do.

I think this is what makes changing a life routine so difficult, because what I'm feeling is perfectly normal and natural when we try to change something in our life, because even if the daily routine is bad for us, it's still what we have accepted as our routine, so there is going to be a part of us that has to give up something.

The problem is that there's only 24 hours in a day.

There is no "adding" something to a daily routine . .there is only ever an exchange that must take place if the routine is going to be changed. I can't add 30 minutes of running to my day, because I only have 24 hours to work with. . . .so if I am going to run for 30 minutes, then I have to give up something else that I would normally do for those 30 minutes, and that's what I'm dealing with. . . .the feelings that I have about giving up something that I enjoy, even if the running is good for me.

The problem is that you don't enjoy the running part yet.

And that is a big part of these feelings, because I enjoy sleeping in. . . .and I enjoy laying there in the morning just thinking about things. . . .but I do not (yet) enjoy the running part, so there's not a lot of motivation to give up something I directly enjoy in exchange for something that delivers no direct joy, only indirect (and greatly delayed) health benefits.

So, the problem is routine. . . .and the fact that you're trying to change it :)

But no worries. . . .I'm not ready to give up on the new running program, as there are many wonderful benefits for me that are well worth the exhange in time units. And I'll deal with all of the problems this change in my daily routine has dropped into my life, but it would be nice if the endorphin part would start to kick in. . . .lol. . . .because it might make the resentment part  lessen. . . .lol.

Of Weeds and Wilderness

Living in a national park for three years has changed the way that I think about a lot of things, but this morning as I was pulling weeds, I realized that even my concept of "weed" has been changed.

In a national park, there are no "weeds," only wilderness land populated by "native" and "non-native" species of plants. And there are very particular ways that non-native plants are dealt with, as the using of pesticides is only used as an intervention of absolute last resort, and only after all pros and cons are assessed by the National Park Service--not an easy decision to be made, one way or the other.

So this morning as I was pulling weedlings up and out of the ground, I was all too keenly aware of what a powerful act that was. Before living at the Grand Canyon I never thought twice about yanking out those pesky weeds that infiltrated my sacred garden. But this morning I knew that each plant yanked out was an unnatural act. . . .an act of violence against nature, as each and every plant that I pulled this morning had a right to life in its natural habitat. . . .its home. . .and I yanked that life right out of the ground because it was labeled and identified as an "invasive" plant species.

But that's the human way. . . .or at least the "civilized" human way. We "tame" and "control" the natural world as we carve away landscapes and reshape them to fit our personal whims and desires. We live so far out of balance with the natural world that it's amazing how anything survives at all. And the creation of national parks is a wonderful thing, but it's not enough to protect the natural world. . . .it's just not enough.

Yet even so, even with the changed awareness, I still pulled those weeds this morning. . . .those native plants that were invading the space I want to create. . . .but the guilt lingers on. . . .yes. the guilt most definitely lingers on. . . .

[Photo credit: My friend Jennifer Tenney's personal garden]

The In-Between

I think I was a truck driver in a previous life. . . .lol. . . . .because I love the way my mind processes when I drive. . . .it's a relaxed state of mind that I don't experience in any other way. . . .not sure why. . . .but I had a lovely drive to Prescott this morning in the wee hours of the day.

I was thinking about how peaceful this move has been, and wondering what made the difference. One of the biggest differences was the built-in "in-between" spaces. . . .that time that was scheduled in-between the long list of things to do. . . .that time where nothing else was scheduled. . . . that time where I was able to sit down, catch my breath, refocus, and then move on the next major event.

My last day of work was Wednesday, and instead of running to Prescott to pick up the trailer to get the move done on Thursday afternnon, I scheduled the pick up day for Saturday. For a person whose list of strengths does not readily include patience, this was a new way for me. So I rested, as much as possible, from Thursday through Saturday. . . .and felt both rejeuvenated and refreshed by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around.

I also deferred the cleaning of the apartment until after my job interview on Monday. I could have scrubbed and rubbed from Thursday through Saturday, but that was my "in-between" rest time, so the apartment cleaning was going to just have to wait one more day.

I think there is an important lesson that I've somehow learned, about the importance of sitting on the edge of whatever I am moving on from before I leap on to the next ledge of opportunity. Maybe it's another lesson that the canyon has invisibly taught my spirit, because there is no quick leaping from edge to edge here at the canyon. . . .you sort of have to stop and regroup before you move on to where ever you're going. . . . .it's just what you do.

But there is such a wonderful gift that's overlooked and missed by just leaping from one thing to another. . . .the gift of reflecting on the blessings. . . .the gift of expressing the appreciation and gratitude. . . .and the gift of feeling fully the truth of what it means to be sitting on the edge of what was in anticipation of the inevitable leap to what will be . . .a leap that will change a person's life forever.

I'm going to miss the canyon so very much, but I need to remember that my relocation to Prescott is far from good-bye, because my spirit is bonded to that place in a way that I could never move on from anyway.

And so it is. . . .in the writing of this blog. . . . as I sip my ice cold tea. . . .I am once again embracing this in-between moment and allowing it to help me to catch my breath and refocus before I start unpacking the seemingle endless pile of boxes into this new life upon which I have taken this amazing leap of faith. . . .

. . . .oh, waitress. . . .another glass of tea, please.