TRAUMA

darnold1975

Tears Of A Clown Pt.2

Tears of a Clown Part 2

9.8.14

“The angriest and saddest people are hidden behind a mask. A mask of laughter and happiness. It’s amazing what you can fake with a smile.”

-unknown

Please forgive me for not having exact recollection of when things happened.  My memory is somewhat different these days.  Sometimes I remember parts of events that happen, but not dates and times that correlate.  The more stressful the situation, sometimes I can have a very vivid or absent recall.  As you can imagine this situation would be put in the ‘high stress’ category.  I also want to point out that in calling Levi my ‘brother,’ I’m not negating the relationships that he has with his biological family.  I totally respect the relationships that he has with them.  I do know, that I could never replace his biological brother and sisters, like they would not be able to replace me in his life.  I think that there’s definitely a mutual respect about that that was established that didn’t even need to be spoken during this particular incident.

At some point, I was sitting by Levi’s bed in a chair, with Charlene, Mel and Marshall in the room.  His mom was under covers sleeping on a cot that made jail mattresses look like a Sealy Posturepedic.  I looked over at her finally sleeping peacefully but scared that the cot might actually eat her.  I hoped that I would actually get to spend some time with the mother of one of the closest people to me.  Levi is in excruciating pain as you can imagine.  He still tries to talk to me.  Secretly, the nausea is creeping closer and quicker than I was prepared.  I soon begin sweating which also led to chills. I wake up to Charlene and Mel wiping my forehead with cool cloths and fanning me.  I had just passed out.  I tend to get up and leave when friends or family are in a lot of pain.  The energy that they put off is too much for me to handle.  I absorb every emotion.  This time, though, as hard as it was, I stayed right by his side.  I couldn’t do any of the nursing stuff like his wife and brother because well….I’ll start throwing up.

His family, my family and I were just about to go through a 6 hour waiting period while he was in surgery known to me as “purgatory.” Prior to him going to surgery, though, someone looked at me and asked, “Are you Dana?”  Immediately, that usually means I’m in trouble for something.  I was secretly trying to figure out if it was the hairstyle or the lesbian part that gave me away. Instead, I was told, “It’s so good to finally meet you!”  I was completely taken aback in amazement.  Another person said, “Yes, we’ve heard so much about you.”  Inside, I remember thinking, “What did that nut throw me under the bus about?”  I figured he had told some of both our funny and serious childhood stories.  So, I slowly begin doing for his family what he would do for mine….MAKE THEM LAUGH!

You see, for clowns, everyone else’s needs are always put before your own because our job is to keep people happy.  It’s as natural for him and me as breathing.  When feeling uncomfortable, always make someone laugh…Rule #1.  Rule #2….Never let them see how you really feel.  Yea, I couldn’t hide how I felt for this guy.

My #1 goal then was to take care of and support Charlene while we were waiting these agonizing hours for our brother, uncle, poppa, daddy, friend and husband to go through the start of a long recovery process.  There were many people who were waiting with us that I curiously wanted to meet.  But, my protective instinct took over for Charlene without her ever knowing.  I was ready to support her like Levi would support Mel if the tables were turned.  And I can assure you that her anxiety was minimized very quickly.  Marshall was playing with his new friend Boudreaux who is about 10 months old.  He is also the grandson of Levi and Charlene.  They were having a great time playing when “Nurse Ratched” told us to keep it down.  She said that they don’t usually have children in that area.  There were children’s toys and furniture place all around the waiting room.  So, I start having an allergic reaction to a sudden case of stupid.  I’m thinking yea, just waiting until Marshall gets in the zone, he’ll show you loud.  I honestly wondered if maybe they trained monkeys since all of that was not for children.  Maybe it was just intended for immature and very small adults. I knew what time it was and started counting down until Marshall was getting ready to have a full meltdown.  Marshall was getting into full ‘toddler psychosis mode’ so, Mel took Marshall back to the motel for a nap.  Then, it was just me and the Pierce family.  This could be good or bad, I didn’t know.

I already was very comfortable around Charlene and Chris.  I have known Chris as long as I’ve known Levi. So, I knew I was safe with them.  Marshall was actually an ‘ice breaker.’  I started out slowly and then came the stories about being a toddler mom.  We were all laughing in the end.  In the meantime, I was internally trying my best to protect by heart from crumbling under the intense fear of losing him during the surgery.  I was also able to spend some time catching up with Chris after 20+ years.  We both had some good laughs all by ourselves.

After a very short time of being around his friends and family, I heard what both of our wives have said, “You and “Spunky” are way too much alike! Are you sure there’s no DNA?”  But, as a family, they were able to witness that connection that’s unexplainable.  I’m sure some thought that I was just an old ‘buddy’ from school.  We will argue with each other like an old married couple while you would be watching and laughing.  But, he’s also like a sibling and a ‘soul mate’ all rolled up into one. (It’s not the same type of ‘soul mate’ like a spouse.)  I know… I know….. It sounds weird.  To me and Levi, it’s weird also, but we accepted the relationship when we were kids.  I know some people thought that God broke the mold when he made me. Wrong! He needed one of each gender.

His mother looked at me and said, “I didn’t know I had a daughter.  This whole time I thought “Spunky” was getting into trouble all by himself.”  I was like, “I only helped him through middle school and part of high school.  The rest of it, he did on his own.”  Then I felt bad because I had just “thrown my buddy under the bus” to his momma.  I remember thinking, “Really, Dana? Ummmm….you’re both almost 40 years old.” I chuckled at the thought of what he would say if I told him that.  I wondered if they knew how terrified I was that they wouldn’t like me.  One similarity between us is that we both have a huge hang ups about how things appear vs. how they actually are.  Like I said, he and I were fighting the same types of demons at school with teachers.  On the inside, I was shaking like an abused animal. The outside, I appeared ‘cool as a cucumber’ while bringing a much needed distraction from the current situation.  I think some were just watching me and wondering how they are so much alike.  You really would have to see us together to understand.

I’ve thought about how our relationship has remained so strong even after 20+ years.  I was finally able to unravel and understand that for me he is a ‘safety blanket.’  Not in the sense of being needy…..ewwwww.  When I’m around him even the first night we reunited, I feel emotionally just like I did as a teenager.  With him, I was always felt ‘safe’ even when it wasn’t.  But, I knew that everything would be ok.  He always tried to protect me even when he couldn’t.  He would even go, as far as, intentionally getting detention so I wouldn’t have to be there alone.  We both are still attached to each other like we’re kids.  Trust me, when we get around each other, WE ARE KIDS!

With what seemed like forever, the doctor came out to speak to the family about how the surgery had been very successful.  He now had 7 plates in his face and his jaw was wired shut.  The eye socket was not as bad as they thought.  And there should be no problems with his vision long term.  We could all now breathe a sigh of relief.  I wanted to vomit but I had to maintain a consistency in presentation.  My guard was finally able to be lowered and we could all relax a little bit.  That’s what I needed to hear to make it through the night.

Later that night……the “Tears of a Clown” began to fall again.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Tears Of A Clown

Tears of a Clown

9.7.14

“The role of a clown and a physician are the same – it’s to elevate the possible and to relieve suffering.”

—Patch Adams

This post is one that I need to write but also dread.  Why?  Because, I’m about to unmask the ‘clown’ that so many have known from both me and my brother, Levi Pierce.  I can’t describe what the last week or so has been like for both me and my little family.  I’ve been from one end of the spectrum of feelings and emotions to the other end.  My body feels like it has been in a war where I got my ass kicked from just the stress and trauma of the situations.  My heart feels like a shredded mess of suicidal rags. By the way, that was just a metaphor. Don’t get all excited about how I word things.  The subjects that I will be discussing are very emotional on every level.

There are very few people that can make me tear up just by hearing their name.  Levi Pierce, Melody Landrum-Arnold and Marshall Landrum-Arnold are three of the people that if I remove the mask and tell you from an emotional level how I feel, you’ll definitely see the tears streaming down my face.  It’s automatic.  I can’t stop it unless I switch back to talking about them from my head instead of my heart.  All three of these people hold very special places in my heart.  I also have a very deep love for all three individuals.

I’ve already told you what an abnormally normal and spiritual connection I have with my brother.  On the morning of August 28, 2014, Marshall and I woke up and were in our morning routine which includes calling Momma Mel.  So, when I called she told me that there was a message from Levi’s wife that he had been in an accident.  I briefly check facebook messenger to see if there was a message from her on my phone.  I didn’t see one from her but there was a message from his brother that said, “It’s about Levi please call.”  And instantly, my heart began to break and my soul began to die.  I had not called yet but I knew it was bad.

With tears streaming down my face as I write this, I was terrified to make that call.  I felt in my body and mind nothing but horror.  I finally picked up the phone and made the dreaded call to his wife.  She said that he had been in a bad motorcycle accident and that the right side of his face was crushed.  There was a possibility that because the eye socket was crushed that he could be blind in that eye.  He had a broken jaw and needed facial reconstruction.  They couldn’t do surgery because his blood pressure and other vitals wouldn’t stabilize. But, for the moment, he was alive.  She and I disconnected the phone call.  I did ask her to please keep me posted.

I call Mel at work and instantly fall apart.  I couldn’t think, breathe or feel anything except the pain similar to what I felt when my Nannie died.  She told me she would make arrangements to come home.  I said, “We’re heading to Arkansas because there was still a chance.”  All I hoped was that somehow he would at least wait for me to arrive to say goodbye since nothing was for sure.  I was utterly devastated already.

My wife and his wife are so understanding and respectful of the relationship that he and I have.  There’s never been even a hint of jealousy from either one.  Even though I’m very much a gay and he is very heterosexual, both of them know how very close of a relationship that we have a very special connection that they also see but can’t explain.  The subject of making the trip was never a question.  That’s just what we were going to do.  I began vomiting and tried to start packing.  I knew that I was walking but I couldn’t feel the ground.  I couldn’t even understand what I should put in the suitcase.  My “core” had just taken a heavy hit.

We end up leaving somewhere around 2 pm that afternoon.  I was smoking weed like a chain smoking cigarette junkie.  I was getting no relief from the physical pain.  And nothing was going to be able to touch my emotions now.  This is the part where Mel could’ve given me arsenic and I would’ve never known.  I was such an emotional mess that she gave me what only God knows really?  From what she’s told me, I slept the entire trip.  We arrived sometime around 3 am in the morning to the motel in Arkansas.  She said that I wanted to go then but she was exhausted too.  And yes, Marshall was with us.  I have no recollection of anything except arriving at the hospital on a mission to see my brother.

When we finally, find the floor where he was, I started making some mental notes about surroundings and people there.  I look off to the left and I recognize a face, it’s his dad after 20+ years.  I see a couple more people who look at me for just busting up in his room.  I see his wife, Charlene Pierce and his brother, Chris Pierce.  Mel was somewhere trailing close behind.  I don’t know if I even said hello before turning and finally making eye contact with him.  He still had not been able to go to surgery because of his vitals.  We both teared up and he says the most precious words that I could barely understand….”Hey, sis.”  I couldn’t help but be able to feel his fear for what he was about to face.  I cried for him, his wife and his family.  There were a lot of people in his room that I didn’t know.  But, I hugged him what I could and just held his hand and cried.  I wasn’t ‘snot crying’ then but I felt it creeping.  The nurse comes in, takes his vitals and says, “You’re vitals have returned to normal. We’ll get you ready for surgery.”  I can laugh about it now, but I think I was like, “What does that mean?”  Normally, I would have the best time with people who asked questions like that.  Today was different.  I couldn’t comprehend anything other than an all over fear that I had never felt.

Now, let me take just a second and let you know that I don’t take any credit for how his vitals were able to almost instantly return to normal.  All I know is that we have such a very powerful and spiritual relationship.  But, this time, I couldn’t get his back like when we were kids.  I just had to be there for he and his family.

At some point, the surgery technicians came to get him.  The staff were letting some of the family give him good luck wishes and kisses.  I took a moment and went outside the room to try and pull it all together.  Yea, that didn’t work.  His brother and I are a few of the last to see him.  He’s shaking all over and told me,  “I’m scared.”  I said, “Me too.”  I told him, “We’ve always shared the load for each other.  Let me take your fear and pain off your shoulders. I love you.”  He simply said, “You better be here when I get back.” That was one thing he need not worry about, I wasn’t going anywhere.  He wanted me to hold his hand and walk him down to surgery.  I kissed him on him forehead and told him that I loved him.  And that day you would’ve seen the “Tears of Two Clowns.”

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Simple Things

The Simple Things

8.24.17

“You know all that sympathy that you feel for an abused child who suffers without a good mom or dad to love and care for them? Well, they don’t stay children forever. No one magically becomes an adult the day they turn eighteen. Some people grow up sooner, many grow up later. Some never really do. But just remember that some people in this world are older versions of those same kids we cry for.” 
― Ashly Lorenzana

I must admit how very frustrated and tired of feeling so bad every single day.  Is all of the pain worth the alleged outcome?  I’m not trying to be just nasty and negative.  I have always doubted thinking that things could and would turn out good.  It has always been easier for me to be able to accept things better when I view things as having a bad outcome so, that I wasn’t disappointed from what I see as unrealistic expectations.  If things turn out good, well now, that’s just a bonus for the day.

Having never worked at this deep of a level processing trauma, I don’t really know what to expect.  However, I know what is happening physically and the answers for relief haven’t been found yet.  Acupuncture does work for a couple of days on most of my physical issues.  However, I’m looking to be able to have normal aches and pains from being close to age 40. Not protests from my body as a result of abuse.

I’m actually taking somewhat of a break from individual therapy for a few weeks.  Having the blog has been a good “out” for me.  However, no matter whether I’m processing on a deeper level with a therapist or just documenting my daily struggles through this life of mental illness, I wake up most mornings wondering when relief will arrive.  When will I feel as though, I’m strong like I use to be to seemingly be able to handle anything that came my way?

I have a very loving and caring wife.  I have the most awesome, sporadically psychotic toddler that between he and I we understand that we both “hung the moon” for each other by just existing.  I would love nothing more than to be able to fully accept and be able to “feel” love without questions and wondering about people and their intentions.  I would love to be able to be hugged by someone and not have the feeling like, “they have me now! Back away, back away! They’re going to hurt you!”  I would love to be able to except someone’s kindness and feel that I deserve someone being kind to me without feeling embarrassed and wanting to hide.

I’m not so calloused to think that everyone walking the planet is bad.  I’ve met some truly AWESOME people in my life.  There are some individuals that I’ve met here in Albuquerque, which I love dearly.  Relationships regardless of what kind of relationship they require work, trust and communication for them to be both healthy and rewarding.  I learned some hard lessons about being in a very “unhealthy” relationship that I continue each day to pay dearly as a result.

When do we as victims begin to metamorphosis into just another survivor with a story?  When do I and many other people get the “peace” that we deserve?  When is the high price that I’ve paid for many years for decisions I’ve made finally reach the part where “enough is enough?” When, where and how do I get to reap the goodness from the universe for always pushing myself to be the best I can be?

Some days are more difficult than others to experience for everyone.  But, imagine this……..

“The same daily struggles that most families have.  Except that when you open your eyes, you have visions of being touched inappropriately to the point that you seem to feel it. Voices telling you, “you’ll never be anything without me!”; “I would’ve given you away too!” “You’re a nasty little girl!”  Visions and sensations of things you were made to do and did not choose to do.  Being able to take your child to daycare and return home without feeling like someone is following you. I just want to be to able to go in public without the use of both typical and alternative medicine just to keep from vomiting because of anxiety.  Or just being able to give and experience a “genuine love” from your soul mate.

All I wish for everyday is to be happy.  I would venture to say that most people want that as well.  Instead, I live in both physical and mental misery.  I see, hear, smell and fear things from my past all the time.   I have always believed that someone or something else that I couldn’t see was there for the events.  But, having a very minority view of these events, I DON’T believe that God was there.  Someone was for sure, but it wasn’t GOD!

Some people might say, “What are you griping about? You have weed legally now.”  I wish I could say that medical marijuana is a “cure all” for abuse.  What it does is help to minimize symptoms compared to what they can be without it?  That gracious plant can’t take away what a human has done.  It can, however, slow things down where they aren’t as frightening and allow me some form of respite.

It’s a very lonely world to live in on the inside.  Life on the outside is one world.  But, life on the inside…….It’s a different galaxy!

 

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Balance

Balance

8.22.14

“PTSD is a whole-body tragedy, an integral human

 event of enormous proportions with massive repercussions.” 

― Susan Pease Banitt

I always like to start things off very light because some of the subject matter can be difficult.  So, being one of two mothers to a toddler boy age 2.5 years can be quite funny at times.  For instance, Marshall has this new thing about wanting us to read his books before he goes to bed.  No big deal, right?  But, now he wants to read them back to us.  The other night I was the chosen parent to listen to him telling a story about a truck.  Story goes like this……”Vrrrrroooommm Vrrrrooommm a mess, bath, clean…the end!” I couldn’t help but to laugh and tell him, “That was such a good story.” His response was , “Truck dirty.”

We have also realized all of his creative ways to manipulate his mommies when it’s time for bed.  The other night Marshall convinced my wife, Melody, to do a full and complete room check for monsters.  I mean, if you think about it, what kind of price would Ghostbusters charge for a service like that?  Nevertheless, eventually, he ended up in the bed between his moms.

In the morning, I have one of his feet on the side of my head.  Apparently, he’s going to be a soccer player because I must’ve taken kidney shots from him all night.  But, what made me chuckle was that he was lying across our pillows at the top of the bed.  I think Melody is in a coma from pure exhaustion from having to hang on to the 3 inches that Marshall allowed her to use as her bed for the night.  I was laying face down in what seemed like a weave that belonged to a cat right next to the concrete wall.  I start sneezing like I had just snorted some kind of deadly allergen.

Kids are so innocent. They understand what is in front of them and don’t worry about tomorrow.  They call it like they see it until they are conditioned by parents, friends or society to try and conform otherwise. That’s where my job comes in for him as his parent.  I worry about things all the time concerning him.

I have said that I was going to take a break from blogging because of my physical symptoms.  But, mentally, I have to be able to process somehow.  So, I’ll do the best I can.

Yesterday started off with me all excited to blog and do therapy assignments.  One of the assignments, I knew would be difficult.   Blogging has always seemed to be what I need for now. I took all kinds of medicine and smoked some as well.  All day long, I would change my treatment approach to help defeat the “Atomic Migraine” that was forming.  I already didn’t feel good but I finished most of both assignments.  My wife reminds me that she has an acupuncture appointment later that day.  No worries, I’ll get Marshall from daycare.  A few hours when she got home, I couldn’t close my eyes or try to walk without feeling nauseous.  I begin to think, “Maybe both activities were too much for me today.” I take stronger medicine and begin to smoke wax and keif for something stronger for the nausea and headache.  Anxiety meds were added as well because my back hurt so bad.   I tried to walk but looked like I had just left a bar that I had been at for several hours.  The right side of my head felt like it was on fire and boiling. When I get severe headaches like that, sometimes I exhibit neurological issues. My brain basically turned off once we got in the truck headed to her acupuncture appointment.  She actually let me take her appointment because I was so sick.  After about two hours of treatment, I was able to walk more normally again. I was still shaky but much better.  Most of the rest of the evening was and still is a blur.

So, I don’t know what my exactly my “balance” looks like or is going to feel like.  But, I that’s what I keep striving to find.  Life is about “Balance.” Right now….well….balance is like a word from another language that I can’t have translated or understand.  Even my best day is a struggle.

Carpe Diem

#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

A Little More Travel

A Little More Travel

8.20.14

“Punishments include such things as flashbacks, flooding of unbearable emotions, painful body memories, flooding of memories in which the survivor perpetrated against others, self-harm, and suicide attempts.” 
― Alison Miller, Healing the Unimaginable: Treating Ritual Abuse and Mind Control

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 was said and done.  But, 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.  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 left field 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 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, at the time 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 in talking or other things.  I now know what he told me was a lie.

#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

Morning Monsters

Morning Monsters

8.15.14

“Your mind is your prison when you focus on your fear.”

—-Tim Fargo

I woke up this morning just feeling discombobulated for no reason that I can understand.  I know that my stomach hurts and I’m nervous to the point of almost being scared. I just have that deep and dark feeling that something bad is about to happen. I check the house for intruders with the toddler by my side thinking we are hunting for Scooby-Doo (doo-doo-doo toddler version). Everything seems safe but very unsettling. I found nothing in the house to signify any breach of “safety.”  Marshall, however, did find Scooby Doo in DVD format. So, I get the movie started and take my cannabis wax pen with me to the bathroom just in case I begin to vomit.  The buildup of tension has led to another early morning bout of ‘shock and awe.’

The one thing that I have begun to do is listen to what my body is saying.  This too is a relationship that includes work.  My body, seems to know, even though my mind doesn’t understand, that something feels very threatening.  I immediately, go to where my vaporizer is warming up and prepare to take my morning medicine.  Scooby-Doo, a superhero toddler and medical marijuana sounds like a good combination to settle what’s happening in my body.  After a few good vapes, I begin to feel my body and mind relax.

Ok, back to normal “mommy duties.” But, something still doesn’t feel ‘ok’ about this morning.

Anyway, said toddler grabs two “baby paws” full of fresh, cherry tomatoes from the garden bucket for a morning snack.  I’m thinking, “at least he’s going to eat something healthy for breakfast.”  I start getting dressed to take him to daycare and begin to revel in the moment of being by myself. I try to ignore the nauseating feeling creeping to a very uncomfortable level.  I switch to my wax pen which is much stronger concentration than what’s in my vaporizer. I take a couple of ‘hits’ and within a few minutes the nausea begins to subside.  In the meantime, Marshall has taken his paws full of ‘snacks’ and has begun shoving them ever so forcefully into a magnetic bottle opener on our refrigerator.  I now have seeds and tomato juice on everything. I cleaned it all up but not before he starts screaming like I just set him on fire.  Yes, what he wanted was to keep his squished cherry tomatoes, seeds and juice.  I then remember that Marshall is meeting textbook criteria for a diagnosis I call “Chronic, Intermittent Toddler Psychosis.” This disorder is often exhibited most often while out in public.  This is when everyone that is around now posts a new Facebook status about a crazed toddler. .  My first thought was, “Why didn’t we use protection?”  Next thought, “I hope like hell Comcast is working this morning and this child can watch Netflix.”  I look over to our modem and “Halleluer! The angels are singing in heaven! I have a signal!”  I find Scooby-Doo on Netflix and “Toddler Psychosis” appears to have forgotten about what activated the event.

I vape for a few more minutes just to make sure I don’t get sick while attempting to take him to school.  Something is still very unsettling from within.  I tell Marshall to come on so we can go to school. I begin turning off all the lights like I was so gently reminded, as a kid, about how ”leaving lights on costs money.”  Marshall meets me at the door with a truck in each paw along with his blanket, sippy cup and Scooby-Doo DVD case.  Telling him,” Scooby can stay here during the day was not working this morning.”  Picking my battles, we take everything he has gathered to the car.  I begin buckle him in and we head off to the daycare.

I begin backing out of my driveway, when I feel the ‘weight of the world’ hit my chest like a bullet in war. I sit there wondering if I was dying. My chest begins hurting to the point of tears.  I take a couple of vapes off my wax pen hoping for quick relief.  It takes a few minutes, but I now feel like I can get him to school. By the time, we start leaving the military base that we live on, I can feel the battle between the chest pains and mmj happening.  I start heading in the direction of his school which is only about 5 minutes away from the house.  The radio was playing some very familiar songs from my high school days and the seat heater was warm which seemed to be comforting.  OMG! I forgot that some schools have started back. The panic has started.

 ‘There are too many cars. Something is going to happen to you because you can’t keep an eye on all of the people on the road.  Everyone is looking at you.  Everyone is judging you.  You don’t know them, but they know you. If anyone steps out of line with a look or a comment…I’m ready! Be ready for any and everything! Please don’t say or do anything stupid!’

I drop Marshall off at school hoping no one notices how I feel on the inside. What would they think? Do, I look like I’m acting “normal?” So, I throw a few jokes and toddler stories out there for the employees to laugh at while I try to slide out the door without my emotions being detected.  I make it out to my vehicle where I just sit and breathe for a few seconds.  My body and mind feel like I’m on the run from a serial killer. I notice now that not only is my chest pounding. But, now my back hurts to the point that I feel as though I have been impaled with something.  My jaw hurts and the rest of my body feels like everything is cramping.

Brief insanity moment thinking: “Go to Wal-Mart and go shopping.” “Are you kidding? I just barely made it to the daycare to drop Marshall off and stayed alive!” I notice the vehicle going the opposite direction from Wal-Mart. My body feels like I have just been beaten with something.  I finally make it back home where all of the anxiety from getting out in public hits me.  I now have to have mmj and the toxins (regular medication) to attempt to gain control over my symptoms.  I realize that the symptoms from earlier are from the anticipation of going in public. You’ve just witnessed on both the inside and outside what point ‘social anxiety’ has its grasp has on me.  All of the physical and emotional symptoms are because of the trauma that I experienced from someone who made the choice not to work on their own trauma.

This is a process that has no time limit.  I have 30+ years of trauma to process.  Even while writing this, my body still has not reached its ‘normal balance’ after almost two hours since being home from taking Marshall to daycare. I got lucky that I didn’t have to really interact or be rubbed up against like being at a mall.  I don’t know about this process.  I usually have everything mapped out and I now feeling like I’m going in blind. And that scares me to my core. My childhood coach, Nick Kolinsky,  I mentioned in a previous day’s post told me about how a winner plays ball…..”Little things make big things happen!”  This is how, I’m trying to face this big challenge before me.

#Thispuzzledlife