flashbacks

darnold1975

Just Another Day

Just another day…

8.3.2014

“Long as you been living, you ain’t NEVER heard of anyone overdosin’ on marijuana. You might-a thought that he was dead. He ain’t dead. He gonna wake up in 30 minutes hungry enough to eat up everything in your house. That’s the side effects: hungry, happy, sleepy.” That’s it.

—Katt Williams 

Yesterday was a difficult day. I have a lot of “social anxieties and phobias” these days among other things. Sometimes, I try to dismiss this notion and go with the “bright ideas” in my brain. Yea, didn’t work out so well yesterday either.  So, I said that I would reveal something new about me when I posted again. Let me clarify that this is “new” to this blog.

I am a “medical marijuana” patient.  While there are still mixed feelings about this particular “medication” and whether or not it’s an actual  “medication”, let me try to explain what it does for me. So, for the time being, just put all of your preconceived notions about cartels, societal issues, addiction and anything else that might interfere with you actually understand what it’s like to take this as a medication.

I must admit that when, I first encountered this topic with a client of mine at the time, I was very skeptical.  He spoke about the relief he got from this medication for chronic pain.  I was working at a methadone clinic when I met him.  Coming from a very conservative area of the country that is very 12-Step based on the topic of addiction, I too was very leery to say the least. I didn’t make a big deal about it because, I knew by that time, that every recovery model doesn’t fit every client. So, I kept my eyes and ears open about the topic of marijuana as a medication.

At the time, I was currently, carrying a diagnosis of Bipolar II and PTSD. So, the regimen at the time was counseling and Lithium among many other medications.  I was taking medications to counteract the side effects of other medications. I genuinely just felt bad from all of the side effects of everything. I soon developed lithium toxcity as a result of having no blood work done in 4 months of taking this medication. So, after hallucinating at work and looking and appearing that I had had a stroke, I was rushed to the local ER.  I was terrified! I couldn’t determine whether or not I  was hungry, if I had to use the bathroom; I couldn’t walk properly and had very slurred speech with facial drooping. My wife had to bathe me and take me to the bathroom because the effects were so severe. She was also 8 months pregnant at the time of these events. I soon lost my job because I couldn’t control the effects that was happening.

My psychiatrist continued until September of 2013 to try every combination known to man to help settle the emotional and physical stress that I was experiencing.  After 4 years of trying any and every medication combination and always seeing very minimal relief for a short period, he suggested medical marijuana (MMJ).  Being a recoverying drug addict, I was scared because of the lack of knowledge that I had about the plant and its benefits. my medications were already being dosed to me by my wife because sometimes I wouldn’t remember taking medications and would either take too much or none at all. Her dosing me was something we put into place early on due to my addiction history. So, really, this was going to be nothing different.  Luckily, New Mexico is one of the few states that recognize PTSD as a worthy diagnosis to receive such medication.

I do understand the argument that one can make the outcome of any study be biased in results.   I have  to go off personal experience and information from scholarly journals about different problem areas.  Some people think that PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) is a disorder that is somewhat meant for soldiers that return from war or veterans.  No, I didn’t serve in the military.  But, trust me, I’ve been in a “war” the majority of my life.  These battles, I fought alone.

PTSD develops after a terrifying ordeal that involved physical harm or the threat of physical harm. People who have PTSD may feel stressed or frightened even when they’re no longer in danger. The areas of the brain that are affected are the amygdala and the pre-frontal cortex (http://www.nimh.nih.gov, 2014). PTSD from the many years of trauma have all but crippled me. I am in constant fear of any and everything. I have struggled a good part of my life with suicidal ideations and feelings of worthlessness. I have physical symptoms that can be debilitating every single day. I have flashbacks every single day. I have basically become a shell of the person that I was even in high school. Some days…I’m just lucky to get through the day without vomiting.

I have essentially “glazed” over the full extent of my life of trauma. Certain information will be reserved only for the professionals that work with me.  I am currently on a few typical medications, as well as, the MMJ because my physical symptoms or psychosomatic symptoms are so bad.  When you get to a point sometimes, it doesn’t matter what people suggest, you’ll try.

Since being on MMJ, I was able to return to feeling like I could get things accomplished during the day.  From who and what I used to be, I’m completely different in several ways.  Even 6 years of a college education, isn’t bigger than what was done to me and many others.  So, say what you want about “medical marijuana” but it keeps a bullet out of my mouth everyday so far.  Not every medication, even when it’s considered ‘alternative’, is used to just get high. i have been off the MMJ for several days at a time and there was no withdrawals either physical and/or psychological. My intention on trying to change your views on “medical marijuana” was never here.  I just wanted to let you know how just maybe this ‘evil drug’ has helped me.  Medical marijuana and “street” bought marijuana is completely different.  The  controls on what can and will be used on the plant in regards to chemicals is very heavily governed. Insurance doesn’t pay because politicians are still in bed with the pharmaceutical companies.  But, we can file what we pay in a year on taxes for medical purposes. Even so, it’s a small price to pay for me to be able to try and aid in helping me to learn to live life and to be able to watch our son grow up.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The 9-Year Anniversary of Hurricane Katrina

The 9 Year Anniversary of Hurricane Katrina

8.29.14

“Those who did better were those who didn’t wait idly for help to arrive. In the end, with systems crashing and failing, what mattered most and had the greatest immediate effects were the actions and decisions made in the midst of a crisis by individuals.” 
― Sheri Fink, Five Days at Memorial: Life and Death in a Storm-Ravaged Hospital

I have been working on what I would like to say about a day in history that will once again be topped by another Hurricane Camille, Andrew and/or Katrina.  I’ve tried to wrap my mind around the science and pure ‘fury’ that nature can unleash.  My goal, after listening to my grandmother, parents and others who were around that day during the summer of 1969, was to experience this sheer nightmare dished out by Mother Nature for myself.

On August 29, 2005, I could do nothing but watch and try to stay safe.  Not from someone, but flying debris that was like throwing stars, damaging anything in its path.  We had no idea how the rest of the residents on the coast were doing.  We lived exactly one hour north of the storm surge so, no problems with the Gulf of Mexico threatening our living rooms.

 All of the news channels were talking about us needing to prepare for 3 days without food or water.  The actual preparation should’ve been for several days.  We watched the storm from day one that it began to form because it was ‘Hurricane Season’ and down there you watch the Weather Channel from June-November.   One thing I do know is that the true path of the storm is never a ‘sure thing’ until it settles in the Gulf of Mexico.  And even then, it can turn on a moment’s notice in a completely opposite direction.  So, even when it’s a close call individuals living in the lower, southern states stake their individual claims on bread, water and anything non-perishable.

The last two days prior to Katrina’s arrival were spent filling up cars and grills with fuel.  Tieing everything down in the yard. And just waiting and watching for the ‘witching hour.’  This particular year it looked like the ‘perfect storm’ was being created.  And she was forcasted to make landfall sometime close to high tide.  I wasn’t too concerned but rather intrigued in a weird kind of a way.  Other hurricanes we had planned for, turned at the last minute in a different direction.  But, this year, ‘the wrath of God’ would be upon us.

Ask anyone what they were doing in the days leading up to the storm and they’ll tell you watching storm models and preparing for the worst.  Also, never forget to run water in the bathtub even if you don’t have a stopper because, it’s a rule of surviving  a storm apparently. The water is used for drinking and flushing the toilet.  But there was no need for a toilet with this storm.  All you had to do was check your pants. The younger generations seemed to be just as intrigued as I was.  All we had ever heard of about a major hurricane was Camille and Hurricane Fredrick.  Nothing like the magnitude that was predicted about Hurricane Katrina.  It wasn’t until I saw the models of this storm that was taking the majority of the room in the Gulf of Mexico that I began to get nervous.

The morning she made landfall, I must admit that I was excited to see this for myself.  This time, I could have a story to tell.  Excitement quickly turned into absolute fear for the safety of my animals.  Shingles from the top of the house were flying off like many puzzle pieces at one time.  Bradford Pear trees were tumbling across my yard like a toy truck.

The usual 5-10 minute drive to my parents house, now took 2 hours.  The debris on the roads was like nothing I have ever seen.  It literally looked like the beautiful, big pine trees and oak trees were toppled like dominoes.  My dogs, at the time, were tied to the axles of my husband’s truck.  I watched a beautiful, old barn collapse like it was made from a deck of cards.

Gas was rationed. Tons of debris was all over the roads and on top of houses and vehicles.  I remember thinking, “We are located an hour inland. What does the MS Gulf Coast look like?”  At this point, all highways, interstates, ATMs, grocery stores, cell phones, most gas stations, banks and many other things were out of commission.  Suddenly, everyone was at the same exact economic level.  Everyone was now forced to get to know their neighbors, which was not necessarily a bad thing.

The first couple of days were difficult but ok.  Damage had already begun being assessed.  But, the freezers were filled with some of the best food I’ve ever put in my mouth.  We were eating ‘high on the hog’ for a couple of days.  Then, food began to spoil and it was sandwiches, crackers, chips or a pizza on the grill that was partially defrosted.

The heat in the middle of August in the southern United States must’ve come from Satan’s armpit.  Everyone smelled like chili and onions because we weren’t able to take showers.  If you just get fed up with the heat, mosquitoes and the lack of showering facilities well, you used the water hose in the front yard.  Remember, the bathtubs were filled with sacred water that no one must touch. The mosquitoes were the size of house cats.  I remember every night deciding on whether or not to sleep indoors where even the floors were a piping 90 degrees or risk getting the West Nile virus.  Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Where exactly was FEMA? Yea, we’re still waiting on those bastards to get through the red bureaucratic tape.  The term FEMA which was meant stand for the “Federal Emergency Management Agency” soon became “Fix Everything My Ass!”  I couldn’t agree more.  We did manage to get a blue tarp to cover the roof, but we didn’t start meth labs in FEMA trailers which seem to be some individual’s way of excelling at chemistry until you heard the loud BANG of a trailer exploding.

It wasn’t the storm that was the issue.  It was the lack of federal help that wasn’t available to those in need.  It was the babies that didn’t have formula.  The elderly without access to insulin or other medications because there wasn’t a way to keep things cool unless, of course, you were one of the few that were able to find a bag of ice and make it last 2 days.  Plus, at the time, my 85 year old grandmother was just as grouchy as ‘an old wet setting hen.’  It was annoying at times to hear her incessant bitching about how hot it was.  But, I would give anything to hear her gripe about anything now.

                                 


The above pictures were common sites along the MS Gulf Coast.  The middle picture is an aerial photo of one of the casinos that was tossed across Hwy 90, which runs along the beach, onto the other side of the highway.  I was either fortunate or unfortunate to have access to Hwy 90 because William Carey University’s gulf coast campus was located directly off Hwy 90 in Gulfport, MS.

The reason I say that I was fortunate to have access is due to several reasons.  I was currently attending the Hattiesburg, MS campus and also worked in the financial aid office as work study.  Also, the National Guard had shut down parts of Hwy 90 because well…..there were pieces missing.  So, I was able to navigate into areas that most didn’t dare go.  I didn’t count on one thing….no landmarks.  Basically, everything was gone or damaged beyond recognition.  The Biloxi lighthouse that has now survived both Hurricanes Camille and Katrina was one of the only landmarks that made it.  I’m pretty sure that it will survive the second coming of Christ too.

Not only did I get to see, feel and smell the utter devastation, I met some amazingly resilient people along the way.  The scenes of the biohazard waste removal teams attempting to deal with both the raw sewage that smelled like a turd sandwich and the rotting fish from several destroyed refrigerated trucks are one thing.  But, what happened along the way is why I’ll never forget that storm.  The people that I encountered were beyond devastated.  All along the coast was the scenes of people rummaging through the rubble of their once home.  Amid the tears, were the robotic type movements that I observed that resembled something like unmotivated zombies.  Their lives had just been shattered into a million pieces.  The amount of grief and loss that these people suffered was more than I could comprehend.  My heart hurt and cried for these people that had their comforts and now it was all gone including some family members.  However, I couldn’t get enough of the damage.  I was down there just about every weekend for a couple of months taking pictures.  I never saw it as a ‘gawking’ session.  I was fascinated by the science behind this beast.

I sat and cried with some of the individuals that I met.  I didn’t see it as important to know their names.  I knew that they were a human being that was in immense pain that I could do nothing about but listen.  All some could do was just point at their surroundings.  Others began crying, when asked how they were doing.  The suicide rates soon increased not only within citizens, but also within the law enforcement community.  There was just too much that couldn’t be done.  Bodies lying on the streets were mostly seen in New Orleans, LA.  But, dammit, Mississippi was also heavily damaged.  As I looked out into the Gulf of Mexico, I saw cars, lawnmowers, etc. In the trees I saw, boats, vehicles, wooden fences that were impaled, clothes and bed linens.  In recent years, the state has not only continued to be overlooked.  But, now it’s simply known as the ‘landmass between Louisiana and Alabama.’

Even today, just mentioning Hurricane Katrina can make all the hair stand up on the back of my neck.  Each year, I shed tears for the ones that lost all they had including the ones they loved.  The energy of the people that I met continues to plague me today.  Where I once loved bad weather, I now fear the wind.  When it floods, and it does in the desert, I begin getting nauseous and scared. But, rest assured knowing that June 1st every year (which signifies the start of hurricane season), I am constantly aware of what’s happening with the weather in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico.  Luckily, I have yet to see a hurricane in New Mexico.

August 29th has become like a national day of mourning for me.  So many memories that were not all bad, I smile about. But, most of the time, I still shed just one more tear on that date for the heartache of the thousands of people’s lives that were touched in both positive and negative ways.

“I’ll never forget Hurricane Katrina – the mix of a natural and a man-made catastrophe that resulted in the death of over 1,500 of our neighbors. Millions of folks were marked by the tragedy.”

Cedric Richmond

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Memories That Come To Life

Memories That Come To Life

8.21.14

“I feel no emotional connection to these outwardly human gestures.
I am not there, because I never left Afghanistan.”
― Jake Wood, Among You: The Extraordinary True Story of a Soldier Broken By War

We recently went to the “small, southern town” thinking that I could do some ‘special’ therapy there.  This is a ‘trial and effort’ type of situation for us in dealing with my disorder.  We soon realized that doing therapy and even being in the state was causing more harm than good.  I couldn’t relax enough mentally or physically to be able to do the therapy.  There are just too many harmful emotions and people that are associated with that area.  When we do visit, I’m constantly watching EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.  Saying that someone is ‘safe’ doesn’t mean shit to me!  I luckily don’t remember what all of what was said and done.   I do remember how the feeling was like having my skin peeled off.

It’s a very conflicted feeling of wanting to be there but not wanting to step foot near that area.  Most of my high school teammates, my parents, our really close friends, people who support us, the fields that I put my body on the line to be a good athlete, the great memories of the terms “team” and “family, and the house I grew up in.  But also, are the memories of the all the abuse.  I always make a point to go by and visit both my friends, former classmates and my grandmother’s grave at their respective cemeteries.   I sit late at night next to the leftfield line where I experienced what the term ‘love’ was all about for the first time.  I think many times about how much fun we had as players and the things we got away with because we were high school athletes.  But, those thoughts always become overshadowed by what was going on, seemingly in another life.

I ride around that city and all I see and think is the horror that no one claims to know about but me.  There are those that I know recall what happened to me with the teacher.  They knew about it, knew it was wrong, and did nothing about it.  Everywhere, I seem to go in that city is a very bad reminder of what happened.  Some people have tried to say, “Just let the past go!”  Tell me how and I’ll do it.  That’s usually where the conversation about that ends.  I usually feel like I can’t escape the ‘nightmare’ that I had already lived.  I just wanted to go to my NEW home, Albuquerque.  Petal will always be the town where I was raised, taught manners, good food and respect.   But a lot of healing has to take place for me to be able to consider it anything other than a ‘nightmare.’  I have a lot of people there that I’m very close too.  However, I can’t even enjoy a visit with them because I’m so on edge about everything.

I was told by my ex-husband about the molestation that, “that happened a long time ago, what in the hell can you do about it now?” I have never forgotten that statement. I instantly felt like I had been emotionally raped because it wasn’t a big deal to him.  He told me later, “I have spoken with your parents about the molestation incident and they told me that they don’t believe that it happened because you would’ve told them about it.”  I didn’t know it then, but they still had no idea what had actually happened. I had made sure of that for a very long time.  I was devastated from what he told me.  I figured that with him being my husband that surely he would be empathetic that it happened.  I don’t know if he ever believed me or not.  But, I do know that there was never any empathy shown towards me about that subject in any way.  “Dana, it’s a &@*# play with it!” is not the way to help that person heal.  It actually re-traumatizes them. I now know what he told me was a lie. All I’ll say about that topic is that I rarely talk about it because of the shame of the abuse.

I’m actually reading a book that is explaining exactly what ‘wife rape’ is.  The book actually explains a lot to me.  I find myself reading the same paragraph over and over at times. So, reading a book is usually a feat.  I start seeing the canvas of words slowly form a picture of what looked like me.  I read further and could so identify with some of the other survivors.  I thought, “Now, I have an explanation for part of the 14 year ‘mind fuck.’” However, what I noticed is that slowly a repeat of an incident began to unfold.  I couldn’t stop it. I was silenced.  I saw his mouth and lips move.  I saw the redness of his face.  Some saw me as being lucky to be married to such a well known guy.

Unfortunately, his abuse was reserved for the party of 1…..me.  He was different around other people.   I knew him for who he was.  He was the product of the abuse from his father.  I was told, “There are no marks on you! No one will believe you anyway!  You’re the one with the mental history!”   Then the feelings began to rush to my heart, stomach and brain where the nausea and migraine ensued.  I looked around and realized that I was sitting in my chair. For a split second, though, everything was very real but from a different time.  I looked down and the book was still opened to the page I had been reading.  I vaped a little mmj (medical marijuana) and then went and tried to relax in the bed while my body thought that I had just been on a run from a dog.  Everyone else was already fast asleep.

Both my days and nights are like this at times.  The visions and memories are so real, in fact, that vomiting often follows.  It seems like it never ends.  I hope for better days sometimes.  Right now, it feels like I’m feeling it all over again.  All I know to do it hit it, whatever it is, ‘head on each time.’ Even if you are scared, you NEVER dodge an opponent!  You always step on the court or up to the plate ready to play ball!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

More Traveling

More Traveling

8.19.14

“She was a stranger in her own life, a tourist in her own body.” 
― Melissa de la Cruz, The Van Alen Legacy

I always feel the need to speak about toddler events in the mornings because well…..sometimes they’re just funny.  So, I was doing the usual getting Marshall ready for school and loaded in the car.  I asked him if he would like some cheetos since that’s what we had in the car for him as a snack.  He shook his head and said, “Momma D, no cheetos…only toes!” “Ok, Marshall, mommy will only call them ‘toes’ from now on.”  Sometimes this kid makes me really laugh.

The term “traveling” has a much different definition to me than the general public seems to understand.   When “traveling, “I’m definitely anywhere I want to be.  I could be on the beach somewhere enjoying the sun or checking out the lesbian buffet.  Every place can be new or one that seems to bring much emotional comfort.  However, sometimes the memories of abuse invade and I to go elsewhere without even knowing it.  To the average person, a function such as this doesn’t seem that different from seemingly “ignoring” the spouse or a boss.  Everyone at some point wishes they were somewhere different especially when at work or just needing a vacation.  Most people don’t use this as a defense mechanism but rather just ‘daydreaming.’

As a child, throughout my molestation, I was mentally forced to be somewhere else.  I couldn’t possibly deal with things as they were.  Each time I knew of another “episode,” my mind would go elsewhere.  I had no idea that the ‘dissociation’ had occurred. I just knew that I couldn’t physically and mentally handle the situation at hand.  The specifics about the molestation are going to be left to my very brave therapists.

Over time, this natural and sometimes forced dissociation becomes second nature.  Just I like said in an earlier post about with PTSD symptoms happening when there is an actual or ‘perceived’ threat, this has now become an automatic type of coping mechanism.  Since, I have apparently been doing this since very early childhood even without my knowing, this behavior has become a daily response to anything ‘perceived’ as threatening.  To put these ‘threats’ in perspective for you, I can give you examples of ‘perceived threats.’ Things such as: loud noises, too many people in one area, too much visual, tactile and auditory stimulation, social situations, being by myself, being touched by someone, hollering, bad weather, and many more situations.  As you can imagine, I have varying reactions to therapy because I’m processing everything that happened on different levels.  So, seeing me as the person you know is completely different from what and how they see me as a person.  I’m still the same person you know and grew up with if you see me.  You probably won’t know anything has ever happened or is wrong.  After all, we are taught from a very young age to keep things in the family even if the family doesn’t know.

Dealing with the trauma on such different levels, my therapists and wife get to see very unique sides of me.  Dissociation is very natural for me especially while in therapy.   Sometimes I can stop it and sometimes I can’t.  This can and does present problems in therapy at times, but we work through it and figure out what’s happening.  The goal is to try and minimize “traveling,” while getting use to not using it at all to function daily?  Is this possible?  Really, I don’t know.  I am trusting in the people that I work with to guide me through this healing process.  I have to admit that I wish there was some kind of ‘rapid’ trauma treatment that I can do while under sedation.  Almost like processing without being conscious of what is going on.  This, unfortunately, isn’t part of the process.  The part of the process I’m currently in is one of both mental and physical chaos.  I do the best that I can because that’s what I was taught by both my parents and coaches even when it’s scary as hell.

I write because everything else scares me to the point of vomiting.  I have lost 40lbs because of the stress on both me and my family.  I’m not currently restricting in regards to eating disorder behavior.  Even though, I definitely have a lot of “eating disorder” thoughts and some behaviors especially in public or with certain people.  But, I go sometimes for days without knowing that I haven’t eaten.  I have even overdosed on medication and had no idea until a couple of days later that this had occurred.  I go for minutes, hours, day and sometimes weeks with not knowing what has transpired.  I simply understand this as “traveling.”  Sometimes I have done things in that ‘state’ that I am and will continue to be embarrassed about. Things are said and done are like a game that I think people are playing with me to make me feel bad.  I have bought things, gone places, eaten, not eaten, had conversations, had arguments and have had ‘rage’ events that I have no memory of happening.

I carry a lot of guilt and shame once I understand days later what has happened.  Does this sound like a quality of life to you? My perpetrators have left a war for me to deal with everyday.  I simply try to win one battle at a time until the war is over.  Medical marijuana just helps with a lot of the horrible physical and mental symptoms that I have from all of this. It doesn’t take back anything that happened. I have to take a lot of this medication to be able to go out in public or therapy because everything’s so painful.  For those that think that ”a drug is a drug,” you’re right it’s just like insulin being used as a medicine.  And sorry my disordered behavior has nothing to do with marijuana except to keep both the public and me safe.   I have a quality of life now that I haven’t had before.  Not everyone uses this plant as a medication or recreationally within limits.  There are actually people who no longer think about suicide because they the government has made a medication legal that can also give them a quality of life that they never saw possible. There are a lot more people that use and die from prescribed medications that the trusted doctors administer.  Please educate yourself on this, someone you know might can and could benefit from this plant one day.  It just might be you!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Traveling

Traveling

8.16.14

“The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.
Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.” 
― Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase: By Andrea Gibson

This morning begins as usual just stirring in our bed trying to wake my senses up.  Automatically, I look around the room to see if I should be alarmed by anything new or out of place.  I sit up on the side of the bed and soon the physical symptoms are on me like a ‘pit bull on a steak.’  The horrible headache that is becoming increasingly worse by the minute is initially unphased by my medical marijuana lying close by.  My body feels pain down to its cells.  I’m having muscle cramps making me question if all of the effort to get better is actually worth it. Why do I hurt like this? If my body is purging itself of the poisons created by the trauma on a cellular level, then I wish it would hurry the hell up.  I did notice that I started getting sick yesterday afternoon.   I  discounted it from being in public for a few minutes yesterday.   Today is different….every morning that this is happening has me feeling that I’m paying penance for something. When is my next acupuncture session? At least, I get a couple of days of almost no physical symptoms.   Alas, the marijuana is working well enough for me to get Marshall dressed and taken to school.  This morning is all about physical symptoms. The feeling is not consciously about social anxiety. But, rather…”Don’t let me puke on the way or when I pull up at the daycare.”

I think to myself…

 “I finally make it back home.  Now, I’m locked in and safe. But, now I’m alone. Anything could happen. Instant ‘shock and awe’ stomach cramps. Can I ever have a day, that for most people is just a mediocre ‘ok day?’ My body and mind is on fire!  The feel of air on my skin is like hot tar being poured on me. My back feels like I was impaled with something sharp. My muscles all over my body feel like they have begun disintegrating. My jaw and teeth feel like they could fall in my lap at any moment. My body must be detoxing, but from what? It must’ve been something I did yesterday. But what did I do and where did we go if anywhere?”

Losing time for some people is nothing more than daydreaming, missing an exit on the interstate, or getting enthralled in a good book.  However, the term “losing time” for me and my family can have very scary and unique meanings from the average family. Everyone, at one time or another, forget your keys or something that you meant to take with you to the store. You suddenly remember, that it’s the list that you have made with what you needed. You go home, find the list where it was left, get back in the car, and head off to the store. No harm, no foul. You don’t qualify for a diagnosis because of it. As a former therapist said to me, “Welcome, to the Human Race!”

My first memory of losing any type of time was in the 8th grade.  While being in that closet, I went elsewhere. It seemed somewhat familiar but ‘safe.’ I don’t remember what the scene was or where I went, it just wasn’t in that closet. I seemed to be locked in a type of paradise.  Every once in a while I would hear, “Are you listening to me?!”

By the time I got to high school, I felt like I got a new start. I was now 20 lbs lighter even though I did it unhealthy.  I was excelling in the sports I was playing. I was dropping weight seemingly every day.  No behavior problems reported by teachers.  I was pushing my body passed its limits but I was ok or so I thought.  This was the first year that I actually remember ‘losing extensive time.’  What is the difference?  Well, instead of a few moments that we all lose naturally.  I had lost an entire week.  I knew that I had ballgames that week so, how did I not remember how I played? I was doing a lot of diet pills at the time. So, that was the answer.  I remember thinking, “It’s nice to be back. But, where was I?”

Skipping a few years, to when I was married to my now EX-husband.  There were times that I remember seeing his mouth move but not hearing or knowing what was said.  That was fine with me. I didn’t know why it was like that but I was completely ok.  There were also those times when I would hear his first loud venomous word and then I would slowly fade away.  I could see him hollering at me but not hear or feel any of it.  My cutting really took off in this relationship and I realized that the same mental and physical stuff happened then too.  I didn’t think anything about it but I knew that my thoughts that I had were very, loud and continuous. I couldn’t dare mention this to the narcissist. Everything that ever happened to me was a joke and made fun. I would just keep my comments quiet and assume all the blame which is what they want.  Feelings belonged somewhere, but on my sleeves… VERY UNSAFE.

Several years later, I meet Melody and other things begin to happen.  Why would this happen around her? I didn’t understand and she surely wouldn’t either.  I just played everything off like, “I did a lot of drugs and they fried me.”    I didn’t tell her about what seemed like separate conversations to myself in my brain.  Everyone, surely has “loud” thoughts.  Heck, I wasn’t even divorce yet.  This type of stuff sometimes happened when he hollered at me or I was cutting. Why with Melody when she was a ‘safe’ person?   I was still watching and waiting for her true colors to come out and hurt me.  In the 7 years that I’ve known and loved her, I have the opportunity to see her true colors every day and they are a beautiful rainbow.  She’s genuine and I think somehow I must’ve known that back then.  We were in graduate school together and taking the same classes. So, to be able to pay attention, I would have to play games on my phone while they were lecturing.  I explained this to my professors before hand and they completely understood.  We thought that we were dealing with a college ADD thing.  Mel still had to re- explain the lecture once we got home. Once I got it and was able to ‘feel’ the connection of the material, It’s locked away.  So, graduate school was a bit more difficult for me, but that makes me no less of a graduate.  I just had to do things a little differently for me to be able to comprehend the information.   Even back in elementary days, I remember crying because I couldn’t answer the questions about the story that we had just read. Trial and error is how we acclimated to our situation and we do the same thing now.

My physical symptoms have me very sick so I’ll continue tomorrow. NAMASTE!!

#thispuzzledlife

 

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Back Again

Back Again

8.17.14

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

I wake up this morning sadly realizing that the nightmare every day hasn’t ended.  This morning I wake up very startled that no one was in the bed with me.  “Oh Shit! I have to get up!  What if he’s already home from work?  Did I lay out anything for dinner?  Has he already fixed his dinner and is patiently waiting to berate me for sleeping? Why had I been sleeping?” Something is telling me that things are going to be bad when I walk into the den.  I’m instantly nauseated by the heavily approaching headache. Stomach cramps have begun to let me know of their existence.  I have to face this to figure out what has happened.

I stand up and my body feels “disconnected” but has a severe pain in my chest.  This feeling is surely to lead to total annihilation of my mind and body. With my “insides” beginning to shake with fear, I make the dreaded walk down the hall.  I notice nothing but the task before me.  Everything sounds like I’m in a cave.  I notice nothing but the familiar way that my body prepares for his emotional venom.  Just get ready to disappear! I say to myself.

I walk into the den where Melody and Marshall sat watching TV.  A sigh of relief hits my body when I realized that I must’ve been in a really bad dream.  It was a bad dream that happened several years ago.  My body seemed to somewhat relax as much as it could. The build-up of tension from my scare had already activated my autonomic nervous system.  ‘Shock and awe’ hit instantly.  I can tell that everything inside of me was all out of whack.

Just another day that started off with a flashback.  What did I do? I survived to be able to tell you about it. Trauma can manifest in many different ways. This way, unfortunately, is a frequent side effect of PTSD that I experience. Sometimes, it can manifest with pictures, sounds, etc. that can trigger a painful event.  There is the also, just as disturbing, the feeling of being in the situation right at that moment.

It is nighttime as I’m finally able to write about the event this morning. Mentally and physically, I have well……been somewhat of a ‘mess.’  That doesn’t mean lying around ‘snot crying’ all day. Sometimes one can bounce back from remembered event and not having anything more than a few feelings that they feel.  However, for me, I have very little memory of anything since it happened.  Had you been right here when it happened, you would’ve had no idea that I would be as affected as I was today.  I have been fighting severe anxiety all day with no success. I have smoked weed, taken all kinds of medicine with no relief.  I haven’t been that scared in a long time. Maybe all of my ‘insides’ just got upset and haven’t had enough time to settle down.

I have a thousand different thoughts that run through my head like it’s on a marquee and never stops.  This event has rocked my world today.  All I can say to any of my perpetrators is…..”THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES!”

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Hello world!

I initially started blogging about 5 years ago.  I’m originally from the deep south in Petal, MS.  It’s exactly half way between Gulfport, MS and Jackson, MS and just across the bridge from Hattiesburg, MS.  Petal has a population around 11,000 now but growing up as a small child and teenager there were significantly less people.  Small town USA complete with the noisiness, conservative politics, religion, strong beliefs, great food, respect taught through the generations, southern hospitality, friendly neighbors who are loyal as family, resilient, head strong and loyalties within a “good ole’ boy network.”  No more loyalties than any other small town I’m sure.  But this “loyalty” hurt me and changed the course of my life forever.

Me and my wife completed Master’s degree in Couseling and then moved to Albuquerque, NM to begin our careers and start a family.  But as life would have it, Mental Illness began to effect our hopes and dreams one day at a time. A few years later I would be diagnosed correctly….finally…with Dissociaitve Identity Disorder.  We would eventually have two little boys that we adore and make you want to keep going with things get difficult.

puzzlepieces2

My writing is about the struggles of living as an individual and LGBT family with a parent with severe mental illness. The sometimes the humor of it all and the often heartbreaking reality of the effects of abuse and mental illness on the indivial and family unit as a whole will keep those that struggle from feeling that you live on an island.  And the families will see that you can love someone with a mental illness without becoming a prisoner to their behaviors.  And maybe you will also see that the struggle for us as your family memeber have more struggles then what we let on at times.

Anyway, enjoy the laughs and tears with our family as they support me while I search for the puzzle pieces of an abusive life.  I will say this…I don’t sugar coat anything.  Sometimes my blogs can be graphic but abuse isn’t pretty.  I’m in the process of healing so topics are frequently repeated and attitudes change from positive to dark.  Either way, this is MY life and MY therapeutic journey towards healing.  Hold on because this ride is bumpy.

Hit the “Follow” button and watch us grow. I don’t write every day because my functionality can change on a dime.  I cover many different topics related to abuse and mental illness.  This blog builds so read from the beginning and see Where we were. Where we are now. And where we are going.  Happy Reading!

#thispuzzledlife