“It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it’s the pebble in your shoe.”
Today is one of those days where I regret being able to open my eyes. I rolled out of bed this morning and felt like I had been at war all night. My body feels like I’m detoxing from a chemical that I haven’t taken. And it’s already begun happening at 6:00am. I feel the overwhelming sense of sadness mixed with anxiety. The nausea is hitting like a gulf coast wave from Hurricane Katrina. I feel that overwhelming sense of needing to vomit. Halleluer! I must not have eaten before I went to bed last night! I didn’t see any remnants of anything. So, I grab my cannabis wax pen and take a couple of hits off it to settle my entire system down. This has also helped to combat a horrible headache that was beginning to hit like a thousand hammers. Then the diarrhea hits like some kind of ‘shock and awe’ attack on Iraq. How soon until I have another acupuncture session?
I’m actually catching a break from these symptoms right now. The medical marijuana is just like any other medication, it too has its limits. However, the combination between both mmj and acupuncture and a drastic slow down in therapy seems to be slowing everything but my mind. What was started about a month ago and was exacerbated when we traveled home has continued to plague every inch of my mind. This blog, no doubt, is an exit for both frustration and education on certain topics. But, for now, certain things must be kept hidden to ensure safety on several different levels.
Am I just trying to have a “poor, pitful me” moment today? Hell no! You’re just getting a ‘firsthand’ look at what some people’s days are like. Like I’ve said before, “writing about these topics on my own abuse has had numerous effects on me both mentally and physically.” Yes, I realize that I had an awesome life up next to others who have had some horrific things happen in their own lives. I’m not going to compare stories because this blog is not about minimizing anyone’s personal traumas. Have I cried about feeling so guilty about being upset over seemingly insignificant things? Absolutely! But, the fact is that things did happen. I’ve held that shame and guilt so long that my mind and body feels like I’m melting. And I’ve stuffed and stuffed feelings for so long that I’m not only nervous….I’m terrified to work with them.
The “special” people helping to guide me through this process must either be angels from God or “gluttons for punishment.” LMAO!!! I feel like I’m really just beginning this treatment even though, I’ve been in therapy for a few years now. I just don’t have the ability to keep my defenses up like I use to.
As an athlete, “YOU NEVER GIVE UP!” You play until you hear the whistle blow. This drive is not one that can be taught. You must be born with a love for the game and the athletic ability to become the best ballplayer you can become. I got my softball playing nickname ‘Charlie Hustle’ from one of my earliest and dearest coaches assigned to me by Nick Kolinksy. He always told me that I played a lot like Pete Rose and never gave up. I smile every time I remember as a kid playing ball for him and always feeling a sense of ‘safety’ around him. He would tell me sometimes, “Dana, that was a $100 catch and a .10 throw.” He made his point very clear but didn’t crush my self esteem as a ballplayer or as a person in the process. He and other coaches are on my list of ‘special’ people that had a dramatic and positive impact on my life from a very early age. I never complained about going to practice or games. That was a way out for me. Playing ball was my life. Pete Rose said it the best way that I know how to describe the love that I had for the game.
“I’d walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball.”
Occasionally, that old, washed up athlete comes alive in me again with reminders about how “putting one foot in front of the other is still considered progress.” I get caught up a lot on what the definition of ‘progress’ or ‘winning’ is about in regards to therapy. Sometimes, the best I can do for that day is just get out of the bed. Even doing that means that I made progress because one foot had to be put in front of another foot for that to be accomplished.
Sometimes people ask me what it’s like to process trauma. To me it’s all about going to war, except this time, I know what I’ll be faced with. I have survived it once so, it can be done. Do I have the strength? That remains to be seen. I relive everything all day everyday anyway. What makes this situation different? I have actively made a choice to volunteer to go through it again. The fear can make me angry, frustrated and paralyze me at times. I must admit that it’s very unfair to be almost 40 years old and still paralyzed in many ways by what others have done. I can hear some of the old, southern biddies saying, “She made her bed, now, she can lie in it.” And that’s fine, if that’s your reality. My reality is this….”I don’t care what the circumstances were…No one deserves to be abused in any way….EVER! My ex-husband, teacher, baby sitters and birth mom didn’t deserve the abuse that they suffered at the hands of their family and people they trusted. When the effects of the abuse begin affecting them then, the new generation of abuse is born and is taken out on other people who become their victims just like I did.”
This time….”I WILL NOT ONLY SURVIVE, I WILL WIN!”