The Emergency Stage of Healing

I keep reading about The Emergency Stage of Healing. A time when all you can do is think about the abuse, the incest, the shame, guilt, and pain of it all. It's a time of suffocating darkness that tests your will to live.

I keep thinking, Huh, that's not me. I'm fine.

This morning I was thinking about danger. About how my definition of danger is drastically different from other peoples definition. For example, I was the passenger in a rollover accident where the CHP was shocked I got out of the car without the jaws of life. Sure I had some injuries. I thought I was totally honest with my mother when I called and told her I was in a minor accident. When she discovered the severity, she asked me, "If that's a minor accident, what's a major accident?" I answered, "A major accident is when someone dies."

I kicked an armed bank robber out of the bank I was working in because I was furious he'd even attempted to rob me. I beat up a guy who threaten my kids in order to steal my wallet, both were armed. A friends husband who was a police officers was shocked at my behavior. He said, "Don't you know you could have been killed?" Nope. It never crossed my mind.

All of these situations are serious, and potentially deadly, but since nobody died I wrote them off as minor incidents.

Knowing I write of major danger as minor incidents, I realized I am in the emergency stage of healing. If I weren't, I wouldn't be terrified all the time. I wouldn't be anxious, or see every male as a walking child molester. I wouldn't be dreaming about it and I'd handle memories and flashbacks better. I guess if I weren't in the emergency stage, I wouldn't have PTSD.

The abuse was serious. It was real, even if he will not admit it. The affects the sexual abuse has had on my life and my decisions is devastating. It is serious enough that if I don't do something, it will kill me. I can't write it off any longer.

At the end of the chapter it gives a list of things to do and remember when in a moment of crisis. One is Remind yourself that you're brave. This is a tough one for me because I don't feel brave, but I guess since I'm a survivor I am brave. Surviving abuse and committing to heal from it takes bravery, courage, compassion, and self love. Some days I have more than others, but I'm going to try and remind myself on the weak days that I am someone to be proud of.

Safe Places And Survivors

The book The Courage To Heal keeps emphasizing how important it is to find a safe place. A place where you feel physically and mentally safe. A place that is comforting and loving. I am lucky enough to have a secret room in my house hidden behind a book shelf. It is the kind of thing every kid (and grown up) wants in their house. I have chosen it as my safe place. It is not somewhere my Beloved's would immediately come to look for me. The walls are covered in my Beloveds art work, reminding me what's important. I cuddle up in a mohair blanket that belonged to my grandmother which reminds me of her loving ways. All and all it's a pretty safe place to do my work.

Last week when I was writing about how I've always had imaginary friends to help me through the tough times, I remembered I used to play in my closet... a lot. I put a small table and chair in the back, my clothes up front and would hide there. It was my secret, safe place in a world of chaos.

Yesterday I went through my closet (which is a pretty decent sized walk in closet) and got rid of a bunch of clothes that no longer fit. Of course the bedroom started out clean, became a complete disaster, then ended up organized and tightie. It was only this morning that I realized I've been getting my jammies on in my closet at night. That I feel safe in my closet. That I wish I could bring a bean bag chair in there and read a book. I love my closet. My love for my closet has nothing to do with my clothes, they're just things. It has everything to do with it being a safe, secure place. It is truly the one place I feel like nothing bad can reach me.

This makes me wonder about other survivors safe places as children, and if they are still safe places as grown ups? See, I'm kind of ashamed to tell my Beloved's that Mommies hiding out in the closet because she's safe there. It seems to send the wrong kind of message, doesn't it?

Coping

Courage To Heal chapter was all about coping this week. This comes on an interesting day as I have been dissociative since I woke up this morning. My body has quite literally felt numb, and detached. My brain has been unable to focus. I've found myself speaking with body language instead of verbally when asked a question. I'm hiding.

Why am I hiding? Not really sure. I know I dreamt last night, but don't remember anything disturbing about the dream. I only remember flashes, like I was getting dressed up in Victorian garb for some high class get together, but never made it for one reason or another. Why should I hide from this? I don't recall being scared or chased. I don't know why I'm so messed up today. Maybe it wasn't this dream at all, but something else I can't remember that's making me dissasociate. Who knows.

Anyway, the book gives examples of coping methods, of which I use several. I have minimized my experience and the affect it's had on me. I have rationalized the actions of my parents and those who were supposed to protect me. My brain has blocked most of the memories from me, to protect me. I put forth a strong facade so no one will know how crazy I really am. As discussed earlier I disassociate, which the book says is good when you're going through the trauma but bad as an adult because it becomes a habit. Guilty as charged here.

I avoid sex at times even though I crave closeness. Naked physically means vulnerability. I hate feeling vulnerable. Hypervigilance makes me feel crazy on a daily basis. The book also says "Humans tend to gravitate to what they know, which is why survivors are always in the mists of chaos. Not only are they familiar with it, they handle it beautifully." I have been told by more than one person, in a crisis they want me by their side because I always seem to know what to do. I always thought it was a compliment, but now I'm not so sure, because if I'm attracted to chaos and can't live without it, then what kind of normalcy am I bring to my children's lives? I don't want them to bear my struggles.

Escape by any means hits home pretty hard. I can remember being friendless most of my childhood but I was never lonely. I had imaginary friends which were characters from a movie or a book. I was always the strong woman who protected the weak. I kicked everyone's butt and no body messed with me. Funny, even today as a 35 year old woman, I still have these fantasies. When driving to and from work lately, I've been that woman who everyone underestimates, but kicks butt and helps the weak. A tough woman that no man can beat physically or mentally. Strong in every way.

Excessive business is another coping skill. I recently had someone tell me when I was still looking for work that I need a job to force me to slow down. I was involved in everything. I was taking Super Mom to new hights. Funny, I didn't feel that way and now I'm feeling like a failure because I'm having to tell people no. I just can't do everything I used to, and I feel like I'm letting my kids, and friends down because of it.

The end of the chapter proclaims, "The starting point for everyone, however, is to look at the ways you coped and to forgive yourself." Uh oh... there's the "F" word. Forgiving myself.... this is a concept I'm just not capable of at this point. I'm sure I'll get there, but I'm not there yet. I guess it's because I take on responsibility that isn't mine, or that I blame myself for everything. Forgiving myself is the hardest possible thing for me to do. I just expect so much from myself, and I feel like I've let myself down and those who love me. Stupid "F" word.

The coping skills I used as a child got me here. They are why I can don the name survivor. These same skills are affecting my relationships, and not for the better. Surviving is not easy. If surviving were easy there'd be no suicide.

I guess knowing my coping skills are ruling my life is the first step to modifying my behavior towards a more productive and healthy set of skills.... or at least that's the story I'm sticking today.

Suicide

I found out today a father from my Beloved's Cub Scout den shot himself in the head on Monday. The last time I saw him was in July. We were with our Beloveds at a pack camp out. He has four children, 3 boys and a daughter. Apparently he shot himself with the 5 year old and the baby in the house.

First came the denial. It couldn't have been him. He seemed so happy.

Then came sadness. His poor wife and kids. What will they do? Their hearts must be braking.

Then came the anger. How could he be so selfish? He's left his wife and children. He's going to miss out on so much! He's causing them so much pain. How could he do it?

Then came the curiousness. What was so horrible he'd rather take his life than face it? (My mind came up with several nasty ideas, but I'm not sharing them as I have no clue why he killed himself.)

Then came the guilt.

Why guilt you ask? Because I've thought about suicide by car many times. Of course my goal was to make it look like an accident, but it would still be suicide. Am I considering this now? NO. I know what the edge looks like. I understand wanting to feel relief. Wanting it all just to end so you can't hurt anymore. This knowledge, brought on the guilt. It made me wonder what people would have said about me after my death. I look at my Beloveds and think, I would have caused them so much pain. How could I have even consider suicide?

I think it's beyond sad he felt so alone, and in so much pain he thought his only choice was to kill himself. I've lived in that darkness and I don't wish it on anyone. I will sneak extra hugs from my Beloved's because I am still here. I clawed my way out of the darkness and because of that victory, I'm still able to hug and love my kids in this world.

Chapter One

I finished Chapter One in The Courage To Heal. At the end it has exercises to write about. I'm going to do my journaling here, so that I don't have to sensor my thoughts. I'm too afraid if I write it down the traditional way someone will read it. I can't bear that thought right now.

The fist chapter talked a lot about how most survivors deal with abuse, the feelings abuse stirs, and the consequences the abuse has on future relationships. In all honesty, I felt as if this entire chapter was written specifically for me. I caught myself thinking, I never told anyone that. How did they know?

The biggest lesson I learned is that I never learned how to make boundaries. I never had boundaries as a child. Obviously my mother and father were no good at making boundaries. This lack of boundary knowledge has plagued my personal relationships on several levels. I mean if you think about it, every relationship whether friendly, romantic, or working should have some kind of boundaries to be health, right?

Now on to the writing assignment. The writing assignment is:

Write about the ways you're still affected by the abuse. What are you still carrying in terms of your feelings of self-worth, your relationships, your sexuality, your work? How is your life still pained, still limited?

Write about the strengths you've developed because of the abuse. Think of what it's taken for you to survive. What are the qualities that enabled you to make it? Perseverance? Flexibility? Self-sufficiency? Write about your strengths with pride.

How am I still affected? Oh let me count the ways... I hate the dark. I have always claimed to be a night person, because I never wanted to go to sleep. Night is not a safe place. I am constantly locking the doors, and check to see if they're locked because I never feel safe. And of course there is the damage done to relationships due to the lack of boundaries as I discussed above. Mostly there is the overall feeling of never being safe.

Self worth? What a joke. I feel worthless. I feel shame, guilt, anger, and hatred for myself. How could I have let this happen? Why wasn't I strong enough to stop it? Why do I allow it still to affect me? Will I always be damaged? It is because of the damage I don't trust anyone. I have gotten involved with inappropriate people and people who are unavailable. I rarely feel connected to myself or others, and I expect everyone to leave. It's just a matter of time. I am limited because of my self isolation. I don't want to let anyone in. If I let them in, that just leaves room for hurt, betrayal, and more abandonment.

Strengths? I've been told I'm strong. My Head Shrink tells me I'm strong and courageous every time she sees me. Maybe one day I'll believe her. Fact is I feel weak. I know I must have some strength in me though, other wise I would have ended it one of the thousands of times I'd thought about it. I'm still here. So I guess that says something. I guess that's persistence? Or is it perseverance? I have become very self reliant. In fact, it is very difficult for me to rely on anyone, including my husband. I take care of everyone, Beloveds, Husband, Friends, and Family. (Of course I don't take care of myself, don't bother asking. I'm working on it of course, but it's easier to take care of others.) I'm a very passionate person and really can't stand the idea of another person feeling abandon or forgotten about.

I'm not sure I've written about my strengths with pride. I'm not really feeling pride, so that's the best I can do today. At least it's something though. At least I'm trying, right?

Books

The Head Shrink suggested I get books called The Courage To Heal, along with the companion workbook. I happened to be in a larger city this weekend with the family, so decided to go into the bookstore rather than order them online. This seemed like a good idea at the time. My Beloved's love books, so they were happy showing their dad all the stuff they liked. They weren't the problem.

The problem was me. I didn't want anyone to know what kind of books I was buying. I couldn't find the section right away, so was kinda lurking in the psychology section. It was there my husband walked up, startling me. I felt like he was invading my space. My privacy. I didn't want him to see me in that section. He must have felt my apprehension because he left me alone soon enough.

I didn't have the author's name, so I found a computer to try and look up the information... only it was an employee only computer, and the employee caught me. So there I was.... being forced to share the title of the books.

I didn't want to say the titles of the books out loud, so I showed her the note book I had the tittles written down in. She repeated them out loud. I'm pretty sure I did a full body shutter.

She quickly found them and walked me over to the right section. I grabbed them from her and held them close to my body so no one could read the titles. The third book, Healing The Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy wasn't in stock. AWESOME.

She must have felt my discomfort, because she said, "We don't have the third book in stock. Would you like me to order it?" I shook my head yes with vigor and asked if she could just have it delivered to my house.

With that done I practically ran from her to a random section. I stumbled upon a fictional story about Queen Isoele. I think it will be a nice balance from these hard core sexual abuse books. So I grabbed it too.

At check out there was a bookmark that caught my eye. It looked like it had a Dragon on it. A recent trip to a Chinese restaurant taught me I was born in the year of the Dragon, and it's currently the Year of the Dragon. I know Dragons are powerful and courageous in the Asian culture so I grabbed it. It turns out the Dragon pendant also has the word COURAGE written on it. Fitting eh? The bright red cord of fire? Anger? Emotion? Which leads to the chinese character of what I'm not sure also seems appropriate somehow. I'm guessing the character is for Courage, but I've been wrong before.

So I've read the first few chapters in the Courage To Heal Books. I'll write about that in the next entry. A word of advice.... when needing a sensitive, personal book, just order the fricken thing online! It will save on embarrassment, shame, and panic attacks.

Life Lessons

In my head shrink visit this week I asked why I am attracted to liers, abusers, and betrayers. I have a running list of men in my life who fall into this category. She told me frankly, people who believe in God, believe he repeatedly places certain people in front of you until you learn what you need too. People who don't believe in God believe it is the brain who is trying to teach you this lesson.

So I asked, "What lesson am I supposed to learn? Heartache? Don't trust men? What?"

She looked at me blank faced and said, "You need to learn to trust your instincts."

I absorbed that for a moment. Until I thought.... holy shit. She's right. When I use my hindsight I see warning signs I ignored in every case. I rationalized while ignoring my instincts. Quite simply put... I don't trust myself.

I guess this means the purpose of my life right now, is to learn to trust myself and my intuition. I guess all my failures aren't really failures, as each time I have learned a little more, only I'm hoping my prior epic failure was the last failure.... cause failing sux.

Dream

I just woke up from a crazy dream. I was in a Nevada High Roller Suite and the Rock (Dawne Johnston) was chasing me. Some how I even tried to get away with a jet pack, put in ran out of fuel before I could get out of his reach. The really weird things was that I felt like I'd dreamed it all before, even the Hotel furnishings, except for the 2nd balconey. Who feels Deja Vous over a crazy dream like this?

This silly dream is the normal for me. Not that I dream of the Rock often (cause that wouldn't be so bad) it's that I'm always running from someone and I can't get away from. Their grasp is always long, and my luck is bad.

When I woke up I had the song, "I Hate Myself For Loving You" stuck in my head.

Here I go for round two.... of running.....

Anxious

So this week I've been really anxious. I'm jumpy, irritable, and can't seem to focus. I attempted to put a gallon of milk in a filing cabinet at work.... and I wasn't even in the M section! Needless to say, I've been making a TON of stupid mistakes and everything is taking 20 times longer than it should to finish.

Wednesday it was so bad I jammed my earphones in, played some relaxing yoga music and tried that new exercise the head shrink told me to try. I realized I was as tight as a bow string. I woke that morning with a vicious headache due to jaw clenching in my sleep. I was still clenching my jaw as I tried to breathe. My shoulder blades could have cracked walnuts, and I was patting my shoulders so fast you'd have thought there might be a prize for the most pats in a minute. I tried my best to relax.

My mind wondered to my eldest Beloved, who seems to be having an especially hard time. He's started pulling his hair out because he likes the pain of it. He currently has a bald spot the size of a half dollar. Since I can understand finding joy in physical pain, the release it can bring, and sometimes just the comforting thought you can still feel an emotion, I'm not exactly sure what to do with him. I've told him to try and run until he feels like his lungs will explode instead, or draw, or something of that nature. I don't want to embarrass him, but he's 8... and has a self inflicted bald spot.... niiiiiice.

I have joined a Tough Mudder team this year. Tough Mudder is an 11ish mile military style obstacle corse. Some of the joy includes running on coals, electric wires, and scaling 15 foot walls. I've been waking at 5 am to exercise every morning, this is going to require some endurance as well as balls the size of hot air balloons. Working out not only helps release bad feelings, but it also lets me hurt, so perhaps my Beloved gets it from me? Only I'm not bald.

I have another meeting with the PTSD counselor on Tuesday I think. I wonder what she will think of all of this. I hope she can help with the anxiety. The angst as I wait for another tragic event to occur.... or wait to remember something horrible from my past.

Uhhhhgggg.........

Here's hoping to a good family filled weekend. I'm praying for smiles and laughter.