Tears

"Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again." ~ Alex Tan

I have cried buckets of tears over the last 13 months. I have cried until I thought my eyes were dry, only to find out I was capable of crying more. There are a multitude of cliche's out there people say when they find a friend in a dark place with tears in their eyes. I'm sure you've heard them. It's always darkest before the dawn. Or Every cloud has a silver lining. And my personal favorite, When you're going through Hell, keep going. Don't stop, no matter what!

I've had the quote by Alex Tan on my computer for months. When I look at it, I see hope. Hope that my tears will wash away the pain over time, making my Life view become clearer.

The last 10 days of life have been interesting. For starters, I got a job. I'll be working for the County in a new division. The division is in the process of being built, and there are no set guidelines for my position, just expectations. This is exciting and terrifying all at the same time. There is a lot of room for failure. Have I gotten myself in over my head? Of course, if I don't challenge myself, have high expectations then how will I ever feel proud of myself? I mean you can't have the pride of trekking a mountain top if you never get off the couch, right?

This is the first 40 a week position I've had since having my Beloved's. I have been there to take them to school, pick them up, and do homework with them EVERY day of their lives. They have been able to do after school sports and activities because I could always take them. Now what? I know there are plenty of households where both parents work, it's just yet another adjustment for us.

I've been doing well with my PTSD. All of my symptoms have been kicked down several notches. I've been meditating and doing yoga. Both seem to help me stay calm. To be present in my body. To listen to my body. Listening to your body might sound ridiculous, but I've realized even though I'm less anxious, sleeping, and more present (all positive things) that my physical body is not in a matching good place. I have headaches that build up throughout the day. My shoulders and neck are so tense I have limited mobility and pain. I've probably been in this physical condition for well over a year, it's just now that I'm listening to my body. The yoga is helping relieve stress. It's helping me get it out, rather than keeping it bottled up physically. See the body remembers, so even when you think you're through it, a physical check needs to be done to make sure you're not ignoring important parts.

The part that's been hardest over the last 10 days is having my oldest Beloved, whose is 8 years old be diagnosed with Clinical Depression. See, he's been absorbing everything the last year... child molesting grandfathers, separated parents, mom with PTSD, and school. He's internalized everything. Now he's a shell of the kid I love and laugh with.

This weekend I got a couple of smiles from him. I hope there are more in the future. I hope I can find some way to help him take all the internal darkness, bringing it to light, and letting go of it.

We will see, hopefully we will see clearer.

Art As PTSD Therapy

I've done art through out the years, so when I read about another PTSD survivor using art to help find release I decided to pick up an old drawing book. Am I an amazing artist? Nope. I do find what I draw an interesting look into who I am at that moment.

Above is my first drawing. When I got done I thought, I did a self portrait, then a little voice in my head said, it's a mask. You wear a strange mask.

The day I woke up with an elephant on my chest and the strong man from the circus choking me out due to a dream I can't remember I drew this....

I think it's a pretty good representation of the fractured chaos of my life. There are some bright spots, some dark spots, and some spots that commingle. Notice my environment is just as messed up? There are a few spots on my face I left white. Are those empty places? Or the illuminated places? Honestly, I really don't know. The fake smile shows I'm still trying to wear my mask, but am I being successful? I didn't draw hair on purpose, because I use hair to hide behind and in this picture I wanted to be exposed. I wanted all the nasty dark spots brought to light.

My husband has nonchalantly looked at my art, but has said nothing. In all fairness I haven't asked for anyones opinion on my art, after all it's much like this blog, a selfish part of me that is for me and not for anyone else. Still it makes me wonder if anyone else sees something I don't.

Movement

I titled this post Movement because I feel like I am moving, albeit slowly. When I first posted on this blog I said I felt like I was drowning in Jello. Now I feel more like I'm stuck out at sea. There is the consistent gentle movement of the tide, but I'm never sure what direction I'm heading in, and sometimes I'm moving backwards.

At least I'm moving though.... right?

The head shrink got me on some meds that seem to be working. Even she had a difficult time when she realized I'm allergic to anti-depressants, hence happiness. I can say I'm less anxious. Do shadows still make me jump? Hell yes. I just don't jump as often as I once did. I felt I moved forward a little when I put out my American flag this past weekend. The shadow of it didn't make me jump all day long.

The meds are also helping me sleep. I've had some crazy dreams but the most disturbing dreams are the ones I can't remember. I know it's an oxymoron and totally true. This last Saturday morning I woke up in the throws of an anxiety attack. An elephant sat on my chest while a circus strong man choked me out. The weight of them, and the pressure wouldn't leave. I tried to lose myself in a book... failing brilliantly. Taking a page from another PTSD survivor I tried to do some artwork. I've done a few pages of art over the last couple weeks and it seems to help calm me down. Perchance it's because I'm refocusing the brain? Anyway, I came up with a self portrait (I'll show it in the next post.) The portrait shows a fractured and chaotic me. While drawing my husband made me a sandwich, the choking feeling was so strong I had to take an anti-anxeity med to eat. I HATE TAKING MEDS. I did feel relief until it wore off, and then I just went to bed early.

I felt week and helpless all day. Taking meds makes me feel weaker still. My mind betrayed me. Whatever I dreamt that night haunted me all day. How am I supposed to deal with something I don't even remember? It's all so very frustrating.

Here's to the roll of the tide in all of it's beauty and frustration.

Happiness Is....

I stole the title from another bloggers post. Her post made me want to post this when I ran across it this morning....

Proverbs

Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding. For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compare unto her.

I find it interesting that Wisdom is the root of Happiness, and amusing that Wisdom is portrayed as a Woman, more valuable than any material object.

The Jedi You Verses The Dark Side You

For some unknown impulsive reason I grabbed the Yoga Journal at Costco and plopped it into my cart. I had already spent waaaaay to much money, but my instincts told me to do it. They told me strongly.

I've been reading a few articles here and there. The first article I read involved meditation, the benefits along with three different methods. Several resources I have read explain mediation, the act of clearing ones mind helps the person reconnect with their self, their mind, their body. Since my internal self preservation reflexes have me disconnecting more times then naught, mediation seems like it's worth a try. I have made a pledge to attempt 10 minutes of meditation everyday for a month. Yesterday was my first day, and I'm going to give it a whack when I'm done writing here. Now that I've declared it on the internet, it is official and I must do it. I will keep you all informed of my progress.

The other article I read, and will probably re-read is called "Me And My Shadow." This article by Sally Kempton discusses how one needs to know their "Shadow Side" and learn how to transform its negative energy in order to truly be in balance. Because of my Beloveds love for all things Star Wars my understanding of this article takes a Star Wars twist. The Shadow is the Dark Side, the Jedi Force keeps the Dark Side in balance.

One of the reasons I really like this article is because it blatantly admits that there can be no Jedi Force without the Dark Side. Sometimes the Dark Side will be stronger and it's going to take good old fashion hard work and self reflection to transform the negative energy into positive energy until once day attaining the ability to integrate the Jedi Force with the Dark Side and achieving true balance. This theory doesn't have a constant internal struggle between good and evil within yourself, but a sense of acceptance, self awareness and transformation of energy.

The article also throws out some Yoda wisdom concerning using your Dark Side for good. Kempton explains that when a Dark Side trait is suppressed you loose the opportunity to work with it and find the positive aspects of the traits. Sadness can bloom into deep empathy. Fearfulness can be altered into a healthy vulnerability. Impulsiveness can change into genuine spontaneity. Dark Side energy can be used for creative and spiritual growth.

Since it is my goal to attain a level of peace this year, this article really has me looking at my Dark Side and my Jedi Force in new light. For me peace has an inherent strength in it, a strength I want to possess. I believe Yoda would approve of my choice of a New Years goal of peace, if only he'd share some of his wisdom with me! Or maybe he has? Perhaps it was the Jedi Force that insisted I buy the magazine in the first place? The universe is a strange place, so I will keep an open mind and strive for inner peace.

Justice Feels Numb

So the father- in- law was sentenced last Monday. He gave the text book "I'm sorry." Big shocker. The oldest survivor wrote an impact statement. I've been to a lot of court in the last year, most of the time there is a lot of whispering among the lawyers and gallery. During the statement reading it was dead silent. The woman in front of me, who I did not know, sobbed during the reading.

When the judge had his turn, he shook his head in disgust. He straight up used the father-in-laws words to the parole board against him, letting him know it is never the fault of a 5 year old. That a 5 year old never "wants it" from a grown man and these comments show he's not taking responsibility for his actions and therefore can't really be sorry. The judge's words gave me some small validation as one Sunday the father-in-law's mother called me to tell me he had taken responsibility for his crimes since he admitted what he'd done. (This was before he pled guilty, so he'd confessed his crimes to detectives but plead innocent, and at the time we were less than a month from trial.) His mother then went on to tell me what an angry, hateful person I am. I've been called worse, so this part of the conversation didn't hurt very much. It was the part where she told me I was a bad mother and she feared for my children and how they would turn out that her poisoned words got a direct hit.

I have done many things, some good, some bad, but I can say without a doubt since having my Beloveds, everything I do is in their best intrests. I always choose them.

When the judge finished, he announced that the sentence would be 18 years to life. He has to serve 85% of his sentence before he's eligible for parole. If he's not paroled (the prosecutor says they never parole the first time) then he'll be resentensed until his next hearing. The process can be continued for some years. He just celebrated his 62nd birthday, being graced with a broken jaw from an inmate who was trying to raise his status as a birthday present. I'm not sure he'll live to the end of his sentence, how ever many years that will actual be. I should also point out, he only received a little less of a year in time already served credit. He was arrested in Feb. 2011.

When we left the court house I felt numb. Later, while watching my Beloveds play Legos the numbness was mixed with an immense sadness. My Beloveds, so young have experienced the painful truth that bad guys can be anyone, even someone you love and trust. They know judicial terms and procedures other kids their age have never heard. They have 1 grandma left. My mother has been dead for almost 20 years, and since my father is also a child molester they believe all grandfathers are child molesters. All of this breaks my heart. My Beloveds have had to grow up sooner than I ever would have liked. Sure all kids grow up, but my youngest Beloved experienced all of the above before he lost his first tooth. It's just too young.

I'm happy justice has been served. I'm happy the situation has come to a finality. I'm not happy about not being able to protect my Beloveds from all of it. Numb. Justice for me feels numb. Or at least it does today.

A New Head Shrink

So this afternoon I have a Telemedicine appointment with a head shrink. (I live in such a rural place Skype is used for many things, including head shrinks.) See my regular counselor cannot prescribe drugs. Since I'm allergic to Anti-depressants, to the point that my reaction is a short walk to death, my primary care physician doesn't know what to do with me. Of course I find it ironic that I'm allergic to Happiness! Ha. The general theory is that if I have some type of anti-depressant it will help with the daily anxiety. Theories are a great thing. I just don't have a lot of faith in this theory, since the answer in the past has been to drug me until I'm a drooling lump in the corner, which is unacceptable. I'm young, I'd like to actually live life not drool through it in a daze. I'll take the anxiety if that is my only choice.

The latest solution is a couple appointments with this head shrink that can prescribe drugs to see if there is a med that can help on a daily basis with my PTSD symptoms. Who knows... maybe I'll even be able to sleep? Naw....

Anyway, I'm nervous about this appointment. I HATE seeing knew doctors. In general I have so much baggage I need my own bell boy to lug it around. An hour just doesn't seem long enough to scratch the surface. I also HATE taking drugs. I don't trust them. Then again I don't trust people either. I also don't like the idea of being dependent on chemicals. This is one reason why I'll never be an alcoholic like my father.

I don't know how this is going to turn out. I hope it's a positive thing, but I'm not feeling too. positive. In fact it's taking huge amounts of self control to NOT cancel the appointment. I guess we'll see....

A New Kind Of New Years Resolution

A blog from a Marine Widow about New Years Resolutions got me thinking. Growing up my immediate family wasn't religious. Both of my parents had been raised Christians, but they didn't practice faith. I had to go to a grandparent for that. I remember listening to friends talk about New Years Resolutions like they were punishment. No chocolate. No video games. No fun. But when I read the Marine Widow's post, well, it got me thinking....

She had read on yet another blog about how instead of a New Years Resolution the writer had picked one word to strive for in the fresh year. The Marine Widow said she liked this idea better, as the word that came to her mind, Peace had been lacking in her life.

In the past year I have been a more devout Christan. I've been taking my Beloved's to church too. I think faith is important, especially when times are tough. My husband has recently decided to give it a try, as he's never been exposed to religion. He's a science guy.

The past year I have prayed more than I have in my entire life. Sometimes, I'm so overwhelmed I don't even know what to pray for. At times like this the prayer sounds something like.... Mother, Father, God.... Please help. Grant me wisdom, courage, and peace. Amen.

Sometimes I pray similar prayers for friends. Like the friends who's youngest of 4 children is battling brain cancer for the 2nd time, has been given a 20% chance at living... just to have his mother rushed in for emergency surgery at Thanksgiving to remove a brain tumor of a different kind. She has also been given a 20% chance of survival at 5 years.

When I read the Marine Widows one word, Peace I thought... what would my one word be? In all honesty I don't think I can pick just one. Peace is obvious. I could use a hardy dose of Peace. I could also use a large heap of Wisdom. I would like to be able to look at others and see them for who they really are, not who I want them to be, and accept it. When looking at the history of men in my life... this isn't going to be easy. Which is why I need Courage. I need Courage to do the right thing, even if the right thing is painful. Of course I need Courage to heal too. Healing hurts. If anyone tells you differently, they're lying.

So my words would be Peace, Wisdom, and Courage. These three words reminds me of one of my favorite prayers.

God grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change

Courage to change the things I can

And the wisdom to know the difference

I will take a New Years Resolution Word Pledge. I will strive and look for these 3 things in 2012.

Justice? Not This Week

It is officially the New Year. I rang my New Year in at the bowling alley with my husband's family and my Beloveds. It's official.... I am the worst bowler evah! Of course I took total pride in the fact, because if I'm going to fail, I'm going to do it brilliantly! I had a beer and a half and a lot of smiles. That doesn't mean the PTSD shadow wasn't there. The bowling alley was packed. Being in such a large group made me feel very claustrophobic. They had the regular lights turned off, the black lights and disco ball turned on. This made for an interesting array of shadows that made it difficult to concentrate. The other stresser was that my Beloveds were in a room playing with there cousins in the back near the food court. I found myself going back there every couple of frames. My mother in law went a few times too. Then my sister-in-law said I could see them if I looked through the snack bar window.

I tried to have "fun" and I did have some, but I was also very stressed out. Just an average day in my world though.

The Beloveds were to return to school on Tuesday, but we stayed at my mother-in-laws house another day because my father-in-law was supposed to be sentenced Tuesday morning. My husband decided he would go to the sentencing. Now remember, he hadn't seen his father since Christmas a year ago, before the truth came to light. He also avoided all conversation regarding his father with EVERYONE. (Yeah I get it's difficult, but I have a child molesting father too! If anyone understands it's ME!)

Anyway.... my mother-in-law, my husband, and myself all made it through security. (Security that actually boggles my mind. I mean the TSA gets to see naked pictures of you and molest you violating our constitutional rights in THE NAME OF SECURITY, but the court house just sends you and your stuff through a metal detector. If you set it off they ask you to pull up your pant legs then send you off. They never actually touch you. Quite frankly if I were to scheme to kill someone, it would totally be at the court house. Just say'in.)

I'm leading the way up the stairs when we leave security, (thanks to this event I have become an expert at locations in this particular court house.) As I round the corner I see my father in law sitting in a wheelchair in front of me. I suck in some air and freeze.

I hadn't prepared for this.

The rest of the party ran into me until they saw who I was staring at. My senses came back to me, I turned on my heels and promptly walked back down the stairs. Everyone followed. The town is pretty small and my mother in law knew one of the sheriffs who was working front door security. At my bidding she asked him if he knew what had happened. The deputy said that the father-in-law was in an "altercation" with a younger inmate. His jaw was broken. He was taken to Mercy for surgery to have it wired shut. He's fine.

Soon my sister-in-law and her mother came through security. We told them what happened. Of course my sister-in-law was pleased. I can't really blame her for finding some satisfaction in that. After all, I know in detail what he did to her daughter. What he did with his mouth, so the thought of it broken, well that is a bit satisfying.

Soon we were all seated in the court room. The Prosecutor's office would read the Victim Impact Statement from one of the girls. My sister-in-law had written her own statement that she planned on reading. The hope is that the judge would take their suffering to heart and deal a stiff punishment.

Soon the word came down that his lawyer was going to ask for yet ANOTHER continuance because he was too drugged up to understand the proceedings. The man was on vicodin not morphine! We were all angery. I mean the man plead guilty! He's going to jail, how does him having vicodin in his system change that? It could be argued that he has rights, well I could argue that when he stole those girls childhoods and damaged parts of them that he didn't give them drugs to help dull any of it... so he should consider himself lucky he could have had a less painful sentencing. Grrrrrr

The judge ended up giving him his continuance until next Monday. He said that if he were to request another continuance next Monday, he better have some proof of his mental incapacity for the court. This gives me little comfort. I feel as if this chapter will never end. That he gets to stir up and disrupt our lives with his constant continuances. Do you have any idea how emotionally difficult it is to know a court date is looming, constantly throwing pros and cons of why you should go? Do you know how much courage it takes to sit in the same room with his smug ass that thinks (and I'm going to quote here) "What I did wasn't really all that bad. I mean she asked for it. She wanted me." *Puke

Yeah, cause all 5 year olds "want it" from an authority figure who's job it is, is to love and protect them! And this guy can't even try the excuse that it only happened once because it happened multiple times with multiple girls over several years! And I'm not completely convinced he didn't harm my Beloveds either, but that would make him "a dirty homosexual" (his words) so he'd never admit to that.

Obviously he's sick in the head. He confessed to EVERYTHING including additional he wasn't even accused of, and he plead guilty... so why do I feel like he's winning because even after all of that he's still not in prison?

I need him to go to prison. I need to see that sometimes, justice does work. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that's not how it's going to go down. Will justice be served? Will I get to see it? Will I feel better?

Happy New Year

Happy New Year is a movie about PTSD. I have had the good fortune to meet the writer, actors, and producers of this movie. Even though my PTSD is not war related, this movie hit home on several levels. First, let me say this movie is not for everyone. For some with PTSD, and for some who live with people who have PTSD this movie could make you spiral down into darkness. For those in a decent place, or the ignorant it is an excellent movie. If you can find it near you, watch it. Hopefully Obama will take the time to watch it, maybe it will have an impact on him? But I wont hold my breath on that one. http://www.usnews.com/news/blogs/washington-whispers/2011/12/28/queued-for-obamas-return-movie-on-ptsd

The Year Of Light

I have decided that 2012 will be called the Year Of Light, opposed to 2011 which was dubbed The Year From Hell. Things with the husband are steadily improving, which means the Beloveds are behaving better as the balance of life adjusts to pleasant.

The father-in-law gets sentenced for his child molesting ways this Tuesday. I've decided I'm going to the sentencing. I've been to other court dates, but I think this one will help me see that justice occasionally happens. Sure, God is punishing my own father for his wicked ways. I mean he's been slowly suffocating to death for 12 years. He can barely wipe his own butt. That's got to be a living version of Hell. Even though he's being punished to some extent, what he did, what he's capable of, and who he's been is all still a BIG secret. For example, a very good family friend was killed in a diving accident. My family attended his funeral, and my father was there. Why would this matter? The friend that died was a prosecuting attorney who specialized in sex offenders. Humm.... Irony anyone? Of course the attorney had no idea what my father had done. So see, it's still a big secret.

However, what my father-in-law did is not a secret. It's a big nasty hurtful wound exposed to the air for everyone to see. Some of my friends think it's shameful and embarrassing to acknowledge what he's done. I am here to tell you it feels more shameful and hurtful to keep it hidden.

I'm hoping that Tuesday will give me a sliver of peace. Will I stop flinching at shadows? Will I feel safe in my home? In my sleep? Will I suddenly be comfortable in crowds? Probably not. But maybe, just maybe, it will help in some small way to know the evil men do is not always a dark secret. Sometimes light shines in the dark and justice is dished out.

At the very least I can take serenity in the fact he can never hurt another child again, and I helped.

Being the Year Of Light.