depression

darnold1975

The Pain That Never Ends 2

“Triggers are like little psychic explosions that crash through avoidance and bring the dissociated, avoided trauma suddenly, unexpectedly, back into consciousness.”

-Carolyn Spring

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away! Ready. Set. Blog! Get comfortable because you need to finish reading this one. This took a few days to complete this blog. There is still a considerable amount of raw emotion associated with this topic. Okay, I will continue from where I left off.

When I encountered my next predator, I was 17 years old. He was 36 years old. He was nineteen years my senior. I acknowledge that the entire situation was chaotic at that time. Unfortunately, that chaos became the norm. I realized that I became terrified in the idea that when there was not chaos, I was terrified.  I was suddenly thrust headfirst into a harsh adult world for which I was unprepared. It was received like a “turd in the punch bowl.” 

Living in a small southern city in the “Bible Belt” region of Mississippi entails a unique set of rules. To put it bluntly, “Being gay should never be regarded as an accepted option.” You are expected to graduate from high school. Attend college. Consider marrying someone of the opposite sex. And to pursue careers while raising children.

I had no idea that my life would drastic 360 degree turn. I would endure a 14-year reign of severe and traumatic terror. What I did not realize as a teenager was that predators can take on various forms, each uniquely individualized. I believed he was my “Prince Charming.” However, every day I looked into the eyes the devil. I entered that relationship with a deep sense of commitment. I was also trying to engage in the “heterosexual game.” And I realized that I was different.

 In the beginning, he had been a man with a silver tongue. He said all the right things, leading me to believe that he was a good man who genuinely wanted to love me and build a life together. That was undoubtedly the most misleading revelation of the truth. As he stated, “I was roaming the high schools looking for a wife.”  Why did I not find that creepy? Since then, I have asked myself that same question every day thereafter. But what was done, was in fact done. 

When I was an athlete, you recognize that pain is an essential component of your training regimen. It is an undeniable reality that managing pain is an inherent aspect of life. You consistently challenge your body in ways you never thought possible. Being in an abusive situation is fundamentally different.

 In the four years that we dated, I remember thinking, “Something doesn’t seem right.” I couldn’t identify exactly what “it” was at the time. But I soon realized the harsh reality. I began to realize elements of his likewise traumatic past. Living with a very controlling and abusive father I heard his horror stories. And until his father died, I can tell you that there was some part of him that still feared his father. An interesting fact was that prior to going to visit his father I was directed about how to act. I was so uncomfortable each time. I would watch and listen to how they would interact. And the stories that they both told had a lot of similarities. This was just paranoia, right? No. There were reasons to be paranoid and scared. And I was.

“Your gut knows what’s up, even if your brain doesn’t want to admit it.”-

-Anonymous

**And also don’t forget to watch the video below!”

 

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Pain That Never Ends

“Living with chronic pain is like trying to get comfortable on a cactus sofa.”

-Sean Mackey, Professor of Pain Medicine at Stanford

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away! Ready. Set. Blog! This is a blog that I’ve needed to write for a really long time. The topic of chronic pain affects every area of my life.

I feel that having both mental and physical pain is too much to ask of a person. I’m not talking about the aches and pains of aging. If that were the type of pain that I experience, I would have no reason to complain. My pain started as a young child with horrific leg pain that would have me in tears. I vividly remember my parents rubbing my legs complimented with a heating pad in order for the tears to stop falling just long enough to fall asleep. And there were no guarantee that I wouldn’t wake up during the night in the same miserable condition. The pediatrician said that the pain was simply “growing pains.”  Could this physical pain have been a result of the trauma that I was experiencing? Maybe. Eventually, I would seem to outgrow the leg pains. In the late 1970’s and early 1980’s maybe there were no other answers. And I can accept that. Subconsciously, no one believed me because the depth of my pain couldn’t be seen. However, the mark that was left on the psyche of a small child is one that has left a permanent mental disfigurement.

The next time I remember pain being an issue was as a 13-year-old. The traumatic situations that were occurring left me with horrible headaches. It was at the time that I began having suicidal ideations. The one consistent message coming from my “loud thoughts” was that I wasn’t worthy was unworthy of life. The trauma of that year continues to pound the same messages in my daily life. I just couldn’t see a way out in any direction. It was one agonizing day after another for an entire year. And again, no one believed me. I would also suffer a kneeinjury that I’ve never been about to truly recover from. I’m still dealing with it now in my late forties. When you abuse a child mentally, it’s so easy for them to believe it. To deal with it all, I began “grasping at straws” trying to find 5 minutes of relief. And I did! I found drugs, alcohol, eating disorders and self-harm.

Then I moved into high school. But the previous year continued to torment me. Not only was I caught up in the cycle of addiction, but I was also starting to die from them all. Anyone who says that addiction isn’t painful are lying. It doesn’t matter what type of addiction. It might not seem to hurt in the moment. However, if you are a human being with a conscience, it will hurt at some point. And when it did, I kept using “it” out of guilt and shame. My hopes and dreams were going down the drain. And I had no idea how to make it all stop. I wasn’t my own boss anymore. It was my boss. I would also have another knee surgery, maybe two. And then, I met him…

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”

-Anne Lamott, author and writing teacher

***Don’t forget to watch the video below! ***

 #Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

My Name Is Chronic Pain

 

I wake you every morning,

And kiss your nighty night.

Never bringing hope for tomorrow,

And you ask god to take your life.

 

If only they could see me and have evidence that I’m here

Maybe you could plan for the future.

But right now, you don’t care.

 

You have it all on the outside plus,

two precious little boys.

But you can’t have fun and enjoy them,

Only watch and hear their noise.

 

I’m buried in your bones,

nerves and muscles too.

No one can hear your cries.

What are you supposed to do?

 

Was it my own doing?

Or someone’s evil deeds?

I take every ounce of energy you have.

Until you’re on your knees.

 

“God where are you?” you scream feeling trapped and all alone.

 You can’t enjoy your simple life,

Inside four walls you call your home.

 

We don’t see anything wrong,

Your X-rays they look alright.

But just in case you start to hurt,

Take Advil and use a pack of ice.

 

Again, I have hidden from them,

and there’s nothing they can see.

You feel you have no other way,

trapped and inside you grit your teeth.

 

“Get up! And Move around,” they say,

And this treadmill will be the key.

 But the only activity that you can do,

 are rolling down your cheeks.

For to Drain the life is the final choice

the only path for relief.

You’ve done the best you could do,

As a group referred to as “we.”

 

It is hell inside your body though no one else can see.

Doctors couldn’t help you and silenced are the pleads.

The boys always wonder why momma doesn’t play.

You smiled and made them laugh, as long as you could stay.

 

They say you’re selfish while your color is turning increasingly blue. 

But I’m too strong and you did the best that you could do.

Theres no way for you to understand the battle of every

 day.

You have become trapped within a cell that hurts more even if you pray.

 

I pose this question to you all, “What if it was you?”

How long would you live in a mental and physical hell? And what would you do?

 

But I’m still here forever,

just like an ugly stain.

Let me introduce myself.

My name is CHRONIC PAIN.

**Don’t forget the video below!**

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Promise Part 2

“When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd”.

Matthew 9:36

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Now I’m ready! I thought I could finish writing this later. But No, cigar! Now is as good a time as any other.

I keep coach very up to date with my thoughts and close attention with my “parts.” My main protector has been upset for quite a while. She’s willing to try to derail me in any possible way. So, naturally, I wondered why? Like most teenagers, she has once again, began striking out in fear.

I don’t typically do well with guided imagery. In the past, I’ve gotten tickled and would create some type of comedy. I’m always the one in the room when therapists start with creating a scenario like, “walking into the woods and becoming one with your senses.” What do I see? What do I hear? What do I feel? And then I’m the dufus and speaks up by saying, “It was me that stepped in it! I’m sorry for the smell!” And as if that wasn’t enough I would add this one in just for giggles. “Oh No! It’s a tornado in the distance! It’s coming straight for us! Run!” I know it’s silly. Since working with my coach, I haven’t done anything like that. You begin to realize when you take things in perspective. All I know is that I was tired of constantly trying to run away from things that are much bigger than me.

I settle in and begin breathing while coach guides me to facing the pain.  My protector had a death grip on that baby. Vowing to protector her at all cost I thought, “Oh boy! Here we go again.” I’m doing my best to stay focused when I heard, “And just imagine that Jesus is standing there.” I froze while watching the interaction in my mind. Jesus spoke up and said, “Bring me the baby.” The protector surprisingly froze and all the angry words leave as soon as they had appeared. She slowly walked to Jesus and hands him the baby. The angry protector doesn’t say or do anything in protest. And for the first time in my life, the baby is calm and falls asleep on Jesus’s shoulder. The protector takes her cue by turning with Jesus’s hand on her shoulder. She too had a calmness that many have been unable to achieve. And she says only in a way that fits her perfectly, “Don’t worry. Jesus has our back!” Jesus then says, “Go ahead. You’ve been waiting for this your entire life, my child. I will provide all the protection that is needed for all of them and you.”  I felt calm and reassured that I was making the right decision.

 During, “The Passion Of The Christ” diamond painting project, I was told that he would never leave me. And had left me to help in securing my insecurities. And I remembered that I heard something that was said in an earlier encounter, “Me and the father will give you the strength you need.” And I realized that the gift in this encounter was that No one said that it would be easy. Jesus upheld his promise that he was not abandoning, any part of me, no matter the number. And so me and my parts begin the difficult road of healing the most difficult part of our trauma.

It is through these seven gifts–wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord–that we grow in holiness and are continually reminded of God’s loving presence within us and around us.”

– John 14:26 

***Don’t forget to watch the special two videos on the bottom***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

When I Was Working On Jesus, He Was Working On Me

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

―C.S. Lewis

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Ok, I’m better. I have become obsessed with diamond painting and how soothing it is for me. And so is writing. I was working on a custom designed painting which was 15 inches x 23 inches. It consists of 40 assorted colors. And it was my first portrait. The design is, by far, the most intricate design pattern I have ever done. I spent close to 80 hours and around 50,000 pieces. I was very skeptical about how it would turn out. And my greatest fear was that I would put all the time and effort into only revealing itself looking like and melted and hammered moon pie. The shading was also nothing that I had experienced. I had already decided that no matter how it turned out, I would keep this one for myself. And from the beginning, it proved itself to be monumental. I had gotten into the mindset that I would pace myself. Taking my time is not usually something with which I can connect. I always want to get everything done in the first 3 hours. There were around 15-20 assorted colors and symbols being used sometimes one after the other. And I had an exceptionally long way to go. So, I decided what the best approach was and turned on the documentaries.

I’ve only shown a couple of people during the progress. I wanted it to be a surprise for everyone who saw it. I would hold it about five feet away so that I could try looking at the shading and definition. I must admit that after about ¼ of the way through I was thinking to myself, “this thing is going to be a disaster.”  I kept looking at the full picture on the side of the fabric thinking, “this makes no sense.”  Frustrated, I stayed to my plan and tried not to judge. But, rather, I stayed consistent.

Again, I re-evaluated at the end of the day or night. After a couple of days of work, I looked at it again. And it was finally taking shape. At that very moment, I said, “this is going to be epic!” I began noticing a great sadness come over me. And it took me a day or two of sitting with and deciphering what it all meant. The tears began flowing and before long I began understanding my biggest issue. I began sobbing as though I were a child. I pinpointed what I felt was an overwhelming since of despair. I soon realized that it was “the fear of abandonment.” This time it hurt more than I had experienced in quite a long time.

**It’s the glare of the light reflecting.**

When you deal with the effects of a trauma filled life your mind begins, at some point, it begins to purge itself. And it’s usually at the most inopportune times. Tink and Coco always walk in circles and begin meowing when I cry. And while one is always rubbing up against me, the other is pawing at me. I put my diamond tools to the side, and I took a few minutes just to try and figure out what was going on. I begin saying, “why do I always feel alone?” The sweetest and most loving voice speaks, “Look at what’s directly in front of you.”  I looked up to see my brown, wooden cabinet with my scrapbooks in it. And, of course, cat tunnels. The level of compassion that I experienced I had never felt before. I love my coach dearly. And she is one of most compassionate people I’ve ever met. This was almost other worldly. And I’ll admit that it scared me initially. I even searched my head mates and asked, “Which one of you said that?” It was not a voice that I recognized. They all just looked at each other and said nothing. I began getting angry because it felt like a joke gone bad. And when you get rebellious teenagers together and they’re silent, it’s remarkably like when a toddler leaves the room and becomes silent. For safety reasons you must go check things out.

Again, I said, “I’m all alone, no matter how many people me are around! Now leave me alone!” The voice said one more time, “look directly in front of you.” I start looking around. And then I saw what the voice was telling me. The diamond painting that I was working on was a picture of Jesus holding onto the cross bloody and beaten after the scourging seen from the movie “The Passion of the Christ.”  That was what I had custom made. I was speechless. I had a sense of relaxation that I have never felt. The voice said, “I never left you. And you were worth it.”

I’m still in shock about what I experienced. I felt a sense of safety that through abuse you don’t feel. I’m not a big religious person. I have been on all sides of it. And in many of my experiences with religion have been used as a weapon. But what I felt was not “religion. It was love.

“Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” Hebrews 13:5 (KJV)

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Welcome Home, Tinkerbell!

“Rescuing one cat won’t change the world but it will change the world for one cat.”

-Unknown

After the death of my sweet little Marley, my aching heart cried out for another cat. I soon brought Coco into my life. But even then, something didn’t sit right with me. I sat with that feeling for about a year stumped me at what it all meant. One day, like a light bulb, it would be revealed that I had a cat shaped hole still in my heart. I thought back to when I had Simba and Nalla and how devasting it was to see and experience the loss while watching the other one go around looking for the missing one and calling her through the meowing. They were littermates and kept each other company when I got busy. I always said that if I ever decided to have cats again, I would make sure and have two. I struggled so hard with the decision because my heart and mind weren’t in complete agreement. Would I, once again, be able to be vulnerable enough to step out and take that chance again? Turns out I did.

Returned to the same veterinary clinic and asked if they had any female kittens that needed a home. I didn’t care about the color or the markings. One of the receptionists said, “I think so.” She called to the back and within minutes a technician brought me the prettiest little calico. When our eyes met instantly I needed her, and she needed me. I was told that her name was Maisie. I said, “Today her name is Tinkerbell (Tink).”

I left the clinic with that sweet baby in my arms. I began to feel the healing of my heart wound. My only concern was how Coco would adjust. They both hissed at one another the rest of the day. By morning they were both peacefully sleeping and seemed to be getting along great. I was told by the clinic that her health was in good shape. But this little girl was walking, crouching and sitting like something was wrong. I panicked thinking, “Please not again!” my heart was beginning to retract. next place I checked was the litter box for anything abnormal other than their regular Tootsie Rolls. There was the most horrid diarrhea that I had ever seen. That was not the sign of a healthy kitty. She would constantly be going back-and-forth to the litterbox. My entire house smelled like I had been cooking a turd casserole. And This went on for a week. I felt so bad for her. She would play and then suddenly curl up into a black, white and orange ball of fur. She had a severe case of intestinal worms. I’m assuming that she had been given dewormer. Gradually, she started getting better.

The girls’ personalities instantly began to blossom. And have been the best of friends ever since. “Tink” has always looked to Coco for guidance on how to be a cat. Some of the instances are quite funny. Just to imagine their “supposed” conversations and I get to have a nice laugh.

Living as a friend, sister, niece, aunt, daughter and mom with a traumatic past isn’t always about being sad or depressed. I try to go through life laughing, as much as possible, when the moment arises. It’s who I am. And it saved my life. 

Please continue to read this blog as funny short stories, dialogs, and captions I will post soon.

“Not all angels have wings. Some have whiskers.”

-Unknown

 #Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

I Don’t Belong (Poetry)

I Don’t Belong
In a place where I have friends, I don’t belong.
In a place where I have family, I don’t belong
In a place where there’s love,
I don’t belong.
In a place where I have freedom,
I don’t belong.
In a place where I have beautiful children,
I don’t belong.
There is life where I hold tightly to living
There is always someone giving
There are always differences
I’m not like others
Differences that some might see
Frustrations that have me clinging to life
I try to hold out for 2 boys and a wife
So hard I fight what others can’t see
The many parts of me
The hope that I held for so long
In a world where I don’t belong.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Road To Heal (Poetry)

Road To Heal
I cry and tears fall;
Wondering how I got myself in this place at all.
My stomach churns not feeling good enough to eat;
My life looks like it’s been put on repeat.
Again I end up in a place of chaos;
Knowing that she took over again and I lost.
When will this torment end?
I will do it once and never again.
Hell, I live and Hell I received.
But this time is different because there’s no reprieve.
Dear God, get me out of this horrible deal.
So, I can get back on the road to heal.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Eating Disorder (Poetry)

Eating Disorder
Each time I look in the mirror I see things;
A distorted vision is what you bring.
I should be able to simply eat food:
But too many times I was told I was no good.

The scales where you show those horrible numbers.
I shake my head and start to wonde;r
Will I ever lose enough weight to be happy?
Probably not because happiness seems to exit my psyche.

What you do is kill in a way that’s called murder;
You always make promises that you won’t hurt her.
But piece-by-piece you break her down:
Lying to her about how that special number can be found.

But that number is not there because it’s constantly changing;
To reach the unattainable goal there is no ending.
Strive for perfection that doesn’t exist;.
I can kill for just trying “oh it doesn’t miss.”
So get ready to have pain and die in perfect order:
Your battle is with an illness called an Eating Disorder.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Finding Me (poetry)

Finding Me (Poetry)

The pain of laughter that everyone sees

The person before you is not really me

The funnier I am, the more pain I’m in

Maybe it’s wrong or some terrible sin.

I loved living life until these terrible days.

Now I live in a trauma filled haze.

Keeping those secrets has eaten a hole.

I’m no longer me but rather a shattered soul.

Most days I’m scared and can’t think

And to get through this life I feel I must have paper and ink

That tiny little town, the memories and secrets are held. 

It not Southern Comfort but a type of burning hell.

Friends and family from a time I once knew

Happy-go-lucky and not dark grey and blue.

The days I was carefree I was happy and nice

And if she asked me again, I wouldn’t think twice.

Two boys that are precious I wish I could hear

Held close to my heart because they are dear.

Far behind the smiles in pictures they just can’t see

How I hang on for dear life while I try to find me.

#thispuzzledlife