Mental Illness

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

Paranoid and confused

“Paranoid? Probably. But just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that there isn’t an invisible demon about to eat your face.”

Jim Butcher, Storm Front (The Dresden Files)

Since I have decided to write again, I have looked at some of my therapeutic roadblocks. Easily I would say that paranoia and anxiety are two of the most disturbing. Regretfully, this has taken me down some dark places and terrifying moments in life. And it is getting worse. It’s an immediate divergence that strikes fear in every part of my being. Let me explain how I’ve gotten to this point.

When I was a young child the guys that molested me, who I thought were my friends, decided it would be fun to step out from behind bushes wearing a mask and a black cape. They would begin walking towards like a scene from the movie Halloween. And it absolutely terrified me. As a middle school student with a very openly aggressive teacher, I was accused of things that I didn’t do. Falsifying instances about my behavior and sent to the office kept me in a state of panic that it would happen again.

Later in life, I was stalked for 14 years daily. And when things were going good inevitably bad things would begin to happen yet again. I was being followed constantly by some of the individuals that I wouldn’t identify until much later. Conversations that I had with people were known even when the conversations were benign. I was set up several times being told that we would talk openly. But when I would show up, the police officers were called without any provocation. I was found by one of my perpetrators at a domestic violence shelter by way of his professional job. Once found I was asked to leave because it posed a threat to everyone else. I was handed back over to my monster and subsequently lost faith in a system that promised me safety. I feared for my life every single day. The mind games were how I was held captive. I was also sitting in my car at another arranged meeting only to have those same men jump out from behind bushes. They got into my vehicle choking me until they took my keys, leaving me on the pavement, stunned and panicked at what I never saw coming. I was also held at gunpoint arranged by those same two men. During this same era, I was followed home by an employee that I worked with. As unnerving as it was, I told my husband only to be told, “You must’ve had something to do with it.” Little did I know that the individual was a convicted rapist. 

At another job, to get some overtime hours, I had to work closely with a man that scared me to death with his advances.  Once again, I told my husband. Instead of compassion and support, I was accused of having something to do with that as well. I took it to the upper management only to be told, “That’s absurd. We know that it was more likely you because of the way you met your husband.”  I was devastated at their comments. And was soon out of a job.

Several years ago, when I was living in Albuquerque, NM. I stopped at a redlight where there was construction, bumper to bumper traffic and only one lane. An obviously sick drug addict jumped into my car demanding money. Terrified that I would lose my life I tried to remain calm, and he eventually got out of my car after pleading with him to let me go home to my wife and children. He eventually got out of my car, and I quickly sped off. There was also a situation that occurred right up the road from our house that involved a shooter going into a females’ job site fatally wounding her and others. We lived on the military base which provided a sense of security with my fear of being found by former perpetrators. However, there were frequent security threats that would occur often. And we were living in a safe area since we lived on the base. However, right off the base it was called, “The war zone.”  I downloaded an app to identify registered sex offenders in our area since we had our first child. I kid you not. It looked like we were living in “Rapeville.”  While it was a beautiful part of the country. It was an extremely violent city.

I moved to Texas for a few years to do therapy and the fear of being found stayed with me daily. I eventually cut off contact with most people in my life. And I left the unsafe safety of four walls in my private cell only to go to therapy. I had gotten to the point where I was terrified of driving in that big city traffic and needing a driver to get me from place to place. The years of being scared had taken their toll. 

And when I finally moved back home to Mississippi where my trauma originated the years of fear and paranoia still has me in fear of everything. I have come face-to-face with perpetrators since living here. And it feels every time like the day it first happened. I question the motives of people that I should not question. I read into situations that never need attention. And the very few places that I do go usually end with me sweating, panicked, terrified and wanting to get back to my house as quickly as possible. I will go with close friends to eat occasionally. But I’m never relaxed. Even though I limit the amount of news I see, there is never a shortage of school shooters and other violent crimes that are seen on any type of news media. Has anyone laid a hand on me in a long time? No. I don’t fear “what is.” I fear the “possibility of what can.”

How do I learn to trust and continue with my life? I have absolutely no idea. I’m not even sure if that concept is feasible. I try so hard to trust the coach. But often my fears take over. How do I begin to relax from a life that seems to have always been chaotic and in crisis? I used to always be eagerly looking for the next confrontation that had become a way of life. But today I fear confrontation, people and life. I have always wanted to be free from the bondage of many different things. 

I hide a lot of fear with a smile as I have for many years. But there are still days where I must have an escape plan just going to the mailbox. Maybe some of my fears are irrational to others. But conditioned I am. How do you go through things like that and not remain fearful of seeming innocent situations? The idea seems impossible. Do the kids who went through Columbine proceed without doubts and fears? No. Survivors are still plagued with ptsd and the fear that bad things can happen. I am in no way comparing my trauma to the same level as a victim of Columbine massacre. But I wake up every morning staring fear into the eyes of my own reflection. I’m not hanging onto the past. The past is hanging on to me. And I always wonder what is the next thing that I’m going to have to try and survive?

““Chronic anxiety is a state more undesirable than any other, and we will try almost any maneuver to eliminate it. Modern humans are living in anxious anticipation of destruction. Such anxiety can be easily eliminated by self-destruction. As a German saying puts it: ‘Better an end with terror than a terror without end.”

— Robert E. Neale, “The Art of Dying.”

 

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Law Enforcement And Mental Illness

Law Enforcement and Mental Illness

“If we always do what we’ve always done, we’ll always get what we’ve always got.”
— Quote from Tony (Anthony) Robbins, American life coach,
motivational speaker, and bestselling writer.

The topic of Law Enforcement and Mental Illness is one that comes with strong emotions on both sides. However, it’s a topic that needs to be dealt with now. I’ve never been in law enforcement, but I have been a part of Emergency Services from several angles. I have worked side-by-side with different cities and their officers. I worked in Hattiesburg, MS and Petal, MS on an ambulance as an EMT-B. I have also worked in Albuquerque, NM with the homeless at a county funded detox facility. Those jobs guaranteed me working with officers from all police departments. And as my condition with Dissociative Identity Disorder deteriorated in Albuquerque, Mel and our family have dealt with law enforcement sometimes on a regular basis due to some of my behaviors.

I’m not in a position nor will I run down fellow individuals who have worked and continue to work in the field of EMS because I understand the stress, callousness and cynicism that naturally develops just to be able to survive doing that type of work. And I understand that they are police officers not social workers. Most people don’t have a clue about what is seen and experienced in that field. What I will say is this…. there has been and continues to be a lack of education surrounding mental illness. Granted sometimes the behaviors get out of hand and force is needed to keep the individual safe from themselves and others.

Recognizing-Mental-Health-Disorders-in-Others-1
What I’m talking about is the lack of education and training on mental illness that officers face. Sometimes having a Crisis Team individual to go out and talk to the individual can ensure less stress on both parties. Instead of immediately handcuffing an individual when simple talking to the person first could accomplish the same goal of getting someone much needed help. I completely understand that this is not feasible with all police departments especially smaller departments, in rural areas. Additionally, budget cuts in recent years makes this task virtually impossible.
Individuals aren’t necessarily prone to violent or criminal behavior. Does it happen? Sure, it does. But blanket statements are what causes stigmas that continue to build over time. Albuquerque had just started having a Crisis Team as we were moving out of the state.

There’s nothing like hearing someone hollering at you and looking down to see red dots on your shirt and not understanding why. Just like an episode of Cops, I was told to lay in the prone position on the cold concrete. I was then held at gunpoint with the red dots moving to my head. The male officer began screaming at me because he was supposed to get off work 30 minutes prior. The female officer was talking to me in a calm voice. Fortunately, I was wearing my medic alert dog tag that I wore because of another situation. She recognized the medic alert dog tag I was wearing and read the information. I was taken to one of the local hospitals for a mental health evaluation where I was subsequently let go.
This is just one of many situations that we encountered prior to leaving the state. Before I moved to Texas and Mel and our sons moved to Mississippi a crisis team came to our house wanting to know what the best way was to help with crisis situations. We gave them the information and for once I felt like I was being heard. There are many situations that happen like the above mentioned that could be helped with just trying to find out what the crisis is about versus being accusatory. And having the Crisis Team knowing what to do to help has changed how I feel about police officers and authority figures. We have a long way to go by challenging stigmas about mental illness. But I think it’s a start.
#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

darnold1975

I AM THANKFUL

I AM THANKFUL

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.
—Albert Schweitzer

With the Thanksgiving season here I couldn’t help but think of things that I’m thankful for. The transition back to living in Mississippi is one that is still in process. I’m grateful to be back around family but living in solitude for so long has left its mark. Still amid some of the frustration I’m incredibly grateful just to have another day to wake up to every morning. Everything I learned in Texas is being put into practice which includes everyday frustrations and the sometimes overstimulation of being in public and around people daily.

My heart has longed for several things over the past couple of years since being in Texas and this thanksgiving my heart was warmed by not having to spend the holidays alone again. I was able to spend the day and night with my two little boys. I can’t explain to you what healing effects that had on my heart. I finally got to show them that I could be around little boys without freaking out. More than once both boys were in my lap while we were rocking and snuggling. And we were able to go to Walmart shopping hand in hand amid the holiday crowd.

It wasn’t comfortable but there were no cold sweats that day. Texas taught me that not all situations would be comfortable, but I would be ok. And that’s exactly what’s happening. I have been preparing for two years for the days and things that I’m currently experiencing. But when my little boys told me that they loved me and are happy that I moved back home that was all I needed to hear.

THANKFUL

I still had to dodge nerf bullets and some of those might not ever be found again. And a trip to McDonalds and all the squealing and stimulation was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But I got to enjoy the boys being able to just be kids without feeling like I would snap from all the noise. Instead I was able to enjoy the chaos that I had missed. Me, my boys and my family could tell that my hard work and healing was paying off and that brought the tears to my eyes.
Those that say, “Well, that was just one time.” I say, “I remember the times when a day and a half of being around my boys squealing and playing without snapping wasn’t possible.” I did it and I’m still doing it. My hard work is paying off and for that I AM THANKFUL.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

My Parts And Change

My Parts And Change

“DID is about survival! As more people begin to appreciate this concept, individuals with DID will start to feel less as though they have to hide in shame. DID develops as a response to extreme trauma that occurs at an early age and usually over an extended period of time.”
― Deborah Bray Haddock, The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook

I don’t know why I’ve decided to write another blog so soon. Maybe it’s because I’m so eager to get back home that the loneliness of this room has taken its toll. But maybe it’s also because my parts are talking so loudly about the upcoming change that it’s hard to do anything else. I still hold true to my beliefs about the benefits of my two years of hard work and the spirituality that I hold near and dear. But to ignore what my parts are saying would go against everything I’ve learned. So, I’ve decided to give this some attention.
My child parts are like typical children. They’re excited to know that they will be able to play with Marshall and Copeland soon. They look forward to being around them again and to once again. And a certain little 5-year-old looks forward to being able to play with her chap sticks that have carefully been sent back home at an earlier date. They also long for a parent’s love to help ease the scariness of this new change.
My teenagers have a menagerie of emotions like most teens. Some are ready to go NOW and are having a hard time with patience. They all look forward to this scary but new life and experiences. My once loud and aggressive protector is the one who is surprisingly calm during this time of stress. She has always been the one no one could get close to. But through healing she has become one that knows her place and realizes that everything isn’t about a fight. The kid that she is longs for someone to simply hold and support her while this change happens. She’s not afraid to admit that she’s scared. But she also knows that she’s still one of the backbones of strength and courage in my system. Instead of being a part of aggression she has found and made peace with her trauma and now works with us all instead of causing chaos. She has become one of the hardest working parts in relation to recovery. And she holds tightly the words of our dear Sarah close to her heart.

you survived

She was hands down the loudest but most damaged alter I have. Her loyalty to our coach and our system is comes from a place that’s admirable and loveable. And I must admit that having her working with us for several months now is something that makes my heart leap for joy. Her heart is open and healed and has become one of my parts that I couldn’t live without. She one that has brought about the most change and has remained open to love, peace and happiness. My part that is her direct opposite and wise beyond her years is still strong with positivity. Very simply put she brings light to the darkness. The desires of her heart I won’t share but peace from within is what she exudes.
My athlete and student are parts that keep us all going. Having the respect for our dear coach they both repeat the phrase, “Stay the course and trust coach. She hasn’t led us astray yet and we need her right now. We trust her because she’s proven trustworthy. Listen and follow her guidance because she will help lead us home safely.” And I must admit that writing keeps “the student” occupied.
A few of my adult parts looks forward to helping Mel raise the boys. They also bring about nurturing and grace on a daily basis. They look forward to being role models for my children that will help me to be the mother I need to be. I have other desires of my heart but none more important than the ones that foster my being able to take care of myself instead of having to be taken care of. I look forward to being able to take care of myself instead of being trapped within myself and frozen with fear.
All these parts make up me, Dana Landrum-Arnold. I’m proud of who I am now and what I can become as a person in the future. My heart longs for many different things. And I’ll admit that I’m very nervous. But when I look back on the days of Texas, I can say that it has been the most rewarding and difficult time of my life. I have worked harder for this resolution of my trauma then anything else. The scars of my story are evident on my arms and my heart. But the peace I’ve fought so hard for is written all over my face and heart as well. I now see myself as one who has discipline, courage, strength and love to share with anyone who will accept it. I am a good person who a set of individuals tried to destroy a little at a time. What I was blessed with was several parts of myself who fought my battles and took care of me for many years regardless of how maladaptive the behaviors were. And now I’ve grown to the point that it’s time that I take care of them and my responsibilities as Dana. They helped me to survive and now I will help them to thrive. My name is Dana Landrum-Arnold and I have a story to tell.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Angelica (poetry)

Angelica

She was still one that no one wanted around

Being kicked aside she was found

But no one had know her job

For she stepped up and sobbed

She was treated like property and chained like a dog

Submissive she was but she drew the short straw

Some would label her as an outgoing whoreface.

And she would have a scarlet letter she always wore

No one chose to get to know her only a label assigned

But she would soon get a new name designed

Her name would be Angelica and all she needed was grace.

For this would be the new name for her delicate and child-like face

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Freedom In My Eyes (poetry)

You start a war on your hands and knees

Crying and begging for help shouting PLEASE!

There were days were I was tired and sore

And even more days I could do nothing but crawl on the floor.

But that floor was my lonely highway of healing

Not knowing if I would live through the work because it was so grueling

I was getting some much needed schooling

But hope and determination powered me forward

And the daily work sometimes leaving me scarred

This time I was still leading a team you see

Because the athlete would activate the wolf in me

I was changing into something I would need

But this time it would be the real and authentic me

Coach was guiding me to a beautiful life

Working hard once again to be a mom and a wife

This time I look in the mirror I don’t see tears

For the first time in many years

There are no screams or cries

Because this time I see freedom in my eyes.

darnold1975

The Wooden Door (Poetry)

The Wooden Door

You met me as an innocent child
If only for a little while
But even a little was too much
Because behind you is where I learned the meaning of
The word…. crutch.

Twist and turn my mind you did
Until that kid ran and hid
But you awakened that angry child
The one who would live life running wild.

Behind you is where the secrets lived
Because I couldn’t hang around to see what you did
She protected me from things I didn’t want to know
She took all the pain and it would show.

Red, purple and eventually white
That’s the colors of her painful stripes
Your evil would once again score
All behind that wooden door.
#thispuzzledlife