Ripples, Waves and Tsunamis

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” - Rumi

I’m thinking that maybe there is no end to this process – there is no end to refinement. This is how the Universe has chosen to refine me. So be it . . . and the revelations will no doubt continue. 

The swelling of emotions subsided long enough for me to feel as if I have some grounding. It’s been hitting me in waves now and sometimes I am able to stand on the shore watching the waves lap at my feet. On good days, it’s a ripple effect; the pain is still there, but it’s containable. 

 

Sometimes I hope for a place of solitude . . .  some form of escape.

Sometimes I find myself hit with a wave of emotion that is so strong I can’t sort out what’s what. I don’t know what’s upsetting me. I don’t know the source of my anguish, only that it’s there and it’s time for me to face it and sift through until I find something that makes sense. I have a full arsenal of things that could be the cause, but there’s really only a few pieces that fit within a specific experience.

In all things, I do my best to act with love. For me, this means putting myself aside at times. It means putting on a smile when all I want to do is cry. It means listening to someone else’s heartache when I’m working through my own and trying to help them solve their problems. It's not easy. True story.

There it is. The aching.

I’ve been getting better at allowing myself to cry. For a long time I didn’t and with this wave of pain has come a force of trembling that I can’t control. I’ve been turning this over in my mind the last few days. As it turns out there is a scientific explanation . . .  and I can now say that studying anatomy and neuroscience wasn’t a full waste of time in the long run.

We share a very basic primitive area of the brain with our mammalian brethren. These are known as the reptilian and limbic brains. This area of the brain is a storehouse of emotional memory and is instantly activated the moment we sense any danger. The amygdala does not wait for instructions from the cognitive, conscious sectors of the brain. It simply acts. In fact, the amygdala allows us to act before we know why by triggering a biochemical cascade. I could describe this, but I’ll spare you. Basically, it’s a quick injection of various stress hormones into the bloodstream. 

What does this look like? You may wonder. The result is a hyper alertness that we’ve all come to know as the fight or flight response. This state of awareness is intense; it’s a dramatic jolt of energy similar to the thrill of an amusement park ride, bungee humping, or general jitters before performing.

 This is on my bucket list of things to do. Okay .  . it's really bungee jumping - but skydiving will be added.

Scientists are now adding a third type of response: freeze. Think of a deer in headlights. The freeze response is activated when there is no hope, meaning nothing proactive can be done to save oneself. This is an unconscious and instinctual immobility reflex. Disassociation is a common coping mechanism in the event of a freeze response, which is a mental form of physically separating ourselves from the threat.

This freeze response overrides any feasible possibility of fighting or running. This feeling of helplessness is strongly linked as a precursor to the development of PTSD. Unlike the fight or flight response, there is no release of energy from the triggered build up of stress chemicals. Our mammalian kin, acting with the same brain as the human species when responding to stress have ways of discharging this energy when the perceived threat is gone: they tremble, shake shudder, perspire and take a series of deep breaths when the trembling has passed.

 Is it over? I keep asking even though I know the answer.

 . . .  and there you have it. I’m getting in touch with the mammalian part of my brain – the I didn't acknowledge when all of this starting manifesting in ways I didn’t understand. The threat(s) are gone; I have to let the emotions come out now.

I remember my very first therapist telling me that this process would be like stirring a pot: the stuff from the bottom makes its way to the surface. It’s true. I do not like it, but I know the band-aids won't last forever.

I don’t know why, but thoughts and memories of my mother have surfaced. Part of her has made me. Part of her is in my genetic code. She scares me and I’m terrified of being her. While I can accept these fears and I can accept how her actions have dramatically affected my sense of security, identity, stability and will likely be present in any relationship I attempt to form – I acknowledge that I have to learn to forgive so I can let go. Maybe it's not even that; maybe I just need to let go. The hard part for me here is that when it comes to her, I don’t know how. I’m a bit lost at the moment.

Not only lost, but kind of at a standstill. Where do I go from here? 

I found myself once again crying and trembling and as much as I fought to control it, it wouldn’t be contained. I had to ask myself again, “Where is this coming from?” When I feel connected to someone emotionally and then there’s a day or two of nothing but silence, the feelings of abandonment resurface. At last I was able to make a connection: I felt the same way I did as a little girl when she left me with strangers,  when she left me for good in Georgia and her presence that was in and out of my life for what felt like an eternity as a child. Still, I remember desperately wanting her to love me. She never did.

For now there will crying and trembling. I accept it –  in waves, ripples or tsunamis. 

 I like to think we all get to visit this place at least once.

“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” - Rumi

Reflections and Revelations

“Accept everything about yourself – I mean everything. You are you and that is the beginning and the end. No apologies. No regrets.”  - Clark Moustakas

If this doesn't make you smile, there is something wrong. 

The last two weeks, give or take a little, have been a roller coaster of epic proportions. It started with what I recognized as another PTSD manifestation. I thought I caught it. I thought I stopped it. I recognized the negativity and fear in my thoughts and what emotions those thoughts evoked in me. I thought that was enough. It wasn’t. I soon felt myself drowning in a pain that felt like it was ripping me in two.

I lack to the words to adequately describe how deep that pain is. Nothing I know of in the English language exists. I think this means I should take up another language.

When I began to cut the negativity from my life, good things began to happen. Good things continue to happen. This is unfamiliar territory and the uncertainty of me thinking I’m going to ruin it, that it’s going to go away has been one of the causes that triggered my most recent relapse. The other was joy – because this is an emotion I don’t recall ever feeling and my psyche didn’t know what to do with it . . . so I had a meltdown. There have been no dark and sinister events. There has been no one in my life that inflicts emotional pain. My life is a far cry from what it was only six months ago. That was my message from therapy.

I have been so very blessed. The Universe was smiling on me when it sent a radiant light into my life. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time, and she has been cheering for me ever since. This newly found friend and mentor I’ve been blessed with has had experiences similar to mine, and is far more advance in the healing process than I am. She told me I’ll learn to make PTSD my friend. When I have felt defeated and broken, she’s reminded me of exactly what it is I’m fighting against: me.  That was my message from Radiant Light. Her gentle and reassuring presence has given me the most comfort through this process. Her presence gave me glimpses of peace in the middle of chaos.

A Beautiful Soul more or less told me to quit hiding. To paraphrase his words, PTSD is an obvious part of my essence and I shouldn’t apologize when it manifests. I shouldn’t apologize for being me. When I think about it, I was essentially apologizing for my very existence. This is something for which no apology is needed. Ever. That was my message from the Beautiful Soul that has touched me more deeply than anyone ever has. He has also challenged me and shown more patience than anyone else. Well played, and I love you all the more for it.  

I acknowledge that I’ve had the wrong perception for far too long. I’ve seen the PTSD as something entirely separate from me that lurks within the deep recesses of my mind. An entity that only comes out to torment me; to conquer and destroy. I’ve grappled with it and when I finally opened my eyes, I see that I’ve been grappling with myself the whole time. I accept it as a part of being. I’ll ride the waves as they come. Perhaps I’ll even learn to surf them. 

Eventually I'll go for it and dive in. 

When I began to examine the roller coaster of emotions, I took it personally. I saw the entire process as an act of aggression against me. All I could ask was, Why? Why does this presence exist within my mind? I’ve done everything right. Then I blamed myself for creating it. I blamed myself for allowing to it to take over, because I had yet to acknowledge it as part of my essence at this point. I realized I’ve been blaming myself my whole life. It was pointed out to me today that when a child experiences something traumatic and there is no one there to tell that child otherwise, the child will think he or she was responsible for it occurring. There was a wave of trauma and I blamed myself for every sinister thing that had taken place. I’ve been blaming myself for most of my life – and I’ve been apologizing for every bad thing that’s happened to me or anyone else.

The end result of this pattern of thinking was the perception of myself as a plague that would ruin everything I touched. I am not a plague and none of those events were my fault. I am worthy of existence. That was my message from the Universe.

Can you see the joy? The balance has been restored.

Then there was another message from my Beautiful Radiant Light: The Universe reflects the energy that we exude. I have been shown love, compassion and joy. I’ve been shown patience. I’ve been shown gratitude and beauty. If this is what I’m giving the world, I’d say I’m doing okay.

When I was finally able to admit that I was hurting, I was given compassion and I was loved. Several have expressed a sincere and genuine concern for me. When I grappled with myself that last time, no one reached out. When they asked how I was doing, what they really wanted was for me to paint a rosy picture and pretend that everything was okay. It was a shallow kindness that hurt nearly as much as the pain I was inflicting on myself.

‘What do you need?’ ‘What can I do?’ I admit I didn’t know how to respond. No one has ever asked that  before. So I was given a listening ear, and I’ve been promised a hug the next time I need one. I was held up by others because I was incapable of doing it myself. I was reminded that I amount to something even though I couldn’t see it. I was loved because I couldn’t love myself.

I was also given advice that doesn't ring true to me, "Look back and remember the happy times." I told her that it was too much for me to look back right now. The truth is that there's too much pain to sift through. My happiness is here in this present moment. Then sound advice was given: keep a journal of gratitude. I have been doing so and it reminds me of the beautiful aspects of life that I take for granted. What I've been thankful for so far: I woke up to candlelight; my prayers were still burning and the level of the chakra candle has shifted to focus on another energy. I saw the sunrise for the first time in ages. I have observed a sincerity I never knew existed. Thank you, Radiant Light - for showing me gratitude. 

I’ve been reaching out to others for most of my life when I see that they’re hurting. I’ve been doing this even more lately . . . and now I’ve been touched. I recognized the pain in them and did all I could to hold them until it subsided, and now it’s been reciprocated. It’s the reaching out that I find the most beautiful. A Buddhist priest described humanity to me this way: We are individual pumpkins on a vine. The vine connects us to one another so that when one rejoices, the rest genuinely share joy. When one feels pain, the others feel pain as well. I saw the intricate system of our connection with one another and the Universe through this experience. I've talked about the imagery the Buddhist gave me many years ago ever since it was put in my mind. To describe it is one thing.To see and experience it is something else entirely.  It’s a beautiful thing. That was my revelation.

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other” – Mother Teresa

Pain and Beauty

"Every nerve that can thrill with pleasure can also agonize with pain." - Horace Mann

I find the truth behind that quote mind boggling.

I've had to acknowledge and accept a few hard facts of life lately. I don't like it, but I know it's necessary. I've realized that if I want to make an impact for the greater good, I have to be able to stand and face the ugliness . . . and give it a severe thrashing. I'm not quite there yet. 

I'm learning to be more self aware. If I am too emotionally charged I'm useless. Nobody wins. This is just how it is. Sometimes the emotional pain is far too much. I can't describe it, but I know that those who have felt it understand. There have been occasions that all I can do is wail while simultaneously falling into a useless slump.

I have to acknowledge the vulnerability. I have to acknowledge the anger. I have to acknowledge the pain. These are all part of me, no matter how hard I try to pretend these aren't facets of what makes me and my personality. I've pretended my whole life that these are characteristics that don't pertain to me. Sometimes people see through that facade, no matter how hard I try to present myself as an unbreakable pillar. 

Sometimes this pain is so overwhelming that it turns to numbness. We go through the motions of life because it's what is expected of us. There is no joy and it's difficult to see past the few glimpses of happiness we're given. There is nothing left but self loathing and doubt. There is nothing left but wailing if we still have that in us. There is nothing left but despair; and how we present ourselves is entirely different from what we feel. It's like we're nothing but an empty casing that covers a very shaky framework. 

Something I don't yet understand is when we are our weakest, when we are our most vulnerable, we shut the rest of the world out. I don't know why others do it, but I know that I've built a wall at times because I don't want people to see my vulnerability and I don't think my emotional baggage is something for them to deal with. I've found that some want to share the burden out of pure compassion. This is part of being human. It's difficult to ask for help because we've been conditioned from a young age with the belief that we always have to stand on our own two feet. Supporting one another shows more strength than standing alone. 

Someone I love has challenged me to let the wall down and share those emotions, because that's precisely what I've asked of him. I've laid my emotions bare and made myself vulnerable to him already. He hasn't tried to break me, yet I'm still afraid. For him, I'll try . . .  and for myself, this is a long work in progress. His presence alone has awakened emotions that I never knew existed - and I still can't describe them. I'm still left wordless, breathless and in awe. 

The events in my life that have been so ugly, so painful . . . so numbing have somehow shaped what I am today. There are things that I've seen and experienced that I sometimes think should never be shared; I should never speak of them. I acknowledge that I can only carry so much for so long. When I can't stand on my own two feet, it's time to reach out and not give in to the numbing abyss of emotional anguish. When we think we are most unloved is when we are loved the most. It took me a long time to see it, but I did eventually. I hope he sees it, too. 

On that note, this entire process has been a challenge. I've been frustrated and I have no doubt he's frustrated by me - yet neither one of us has given up on this. 'This' is something I can't quite describe. He exists, I exist, and we both exist in it. It makes sense to me, but I doubt it will to many others. The things I want to shield him from are the very same emotions he wants me to share with him. I have been forced to acknowledge more of the darker side of my personality because of him, but I don't regret it. I am grateful. I am grateful because these are characteristics of myself that I've avoided for a very long time. I knew that I'd have to face them eventually . . . . and it appears as though that time is now. Challenge accepted, Universe. 

I see him going through the same phases and emotions that I experienced not too long ago . . . although his are likely for entirely different reasons. He's sorting out the positives and negatives in his life. I remember that experience. The process was not pretty. I felt even more secluded and alone. I doubt it will be as lonely for him as it was for me, but it's still difficult. I needed time to grieve some of those losses, even though I knew that the friendships were toxic. I tell him as often as I can that I'm here. He is loved. He is cherished. I hope when he's working through some of the darkest issues that he remembers those words. I meant everything I said. I have no doubt that others are giving him similar encouragement. Beautiful Soul, I am here. Let me love you.

I've seen glimpses, Beautiful Soul. I'm not afraid. You are magnificent, even if you don't see it yet. 

Changing gears, I had yet another victory. I think 2013 is the year of Ava. Last week, I was able to sit sandwiched in between two men. I didn't panic. I didn't try to run. I didn't reach for my beating stick. In fact, it didn't effect me at all. 

Just a few days ago I was beginning to go into another wretched PTSD relapse. I managed to catch it this time and I am still in amazed. I'm stunned because I've always viewed it as a beast that controlled me and I was helpless against it. 

I felt it coming. The rumination. The obsession over things that were said and things that were left unsaid. The obsession over experiences in my life that I'd rather forget that still plague me with their presence. This form of thinking is followed by the doubt, the self loathing, the fear. It eventually feels like there's a demonic presence in my mind that tells me I'm nothing. I'll never be good enough. I'm unlovable and I am worthless. I finally recognized it. I acknowledged that part of me and told it to go away; I distracted myself to the best of my capabilities. I told myself repeatedly throughout the day that I am a radiant being of light. 

I went to tango class and randomly hugged my dancing partner. She and I shared an amazing synergy together and I thoroughly enjoyed dancing with her. She kept her eyes closed when I was leading, as I often do when someone else is leading me. I was elated when I saw her face light up because we were connecting with movement; she intuitively knew where I was going. This is another aspect of humanity. We care for one another, we feel for one another, and we connect. It's beautiful.  It took me a long time to see it, but it truly is. By the end of the day, I felt nothing but joy and the first thing I told myself when I woke up was this, "I am a radiant being of light." I believed it this time. 

I'm keeping track for the new year. Ava - 2, PTSD - 0. I am winning. I can't describe the happiness I feel in these victories because I always thought this was something that had complete control over me. I now see that I can control it with a little bit of work and constant self awareness . . . and neither of these are negative things.

These boots are made for walkin'. I have arrived. 

After cutting out the negativity from my life, I am receiving positive. I don't deny the process was excruciating. I had no one and I was still experiencing the aftermath of the last two years. I started to reach out to the world around me and eventually the good came. I lack the words to describe how beautiful the latter process of this part has been. I think I'm seeing the world as it should be for the first time. All of the pieces are coming together and it's beginning to make sense. 

Beautiful Soul, it exists for you, too. I'm here. Don't ever think you're alone.

From Rage to Love

Rage n. Furious intensity, as of a storm or disease. 

It used to amuse people when I told them my motivation to succeed was spite and rage. The sad part is that it was true. When I was told that I was nothing, that I was and never would be good enough,  the anger continued to grow and I strove to be the best in everything. For some time it worked - but a person can only carry on like that for so long. It's a cancer that can eat one alive.

The rage began when I was a young girl and my father died. It grew and evolved with every painful event that followed after: my mother's rejection, the death of my grandmother and the abandonment of anyone that had ever mattered to me. I was alone in life and I knew it. Anger was all I had to keep me going and I let it take over.

This is a pretty good representation. Did I mention I was constantly getting into fights as a wee lass? I was sending the world a message: don't f@#! with me or I'll kill you with my fury. 

The turning point began about a year and a half ago. It had been six months after I experienced something that I was naive enough to think that it couldn't possibly happen to me again. I don't remember why I was in Beaverton and just happened to stumble upon one of those New Age / Pagan shops. I do remember that I was extremely upset over someone's words that were spoken out of cruelty. I was still trying to recover from what happened and couldn't handle such harshness from someone I trusted.

Perhaps it was a divine intervention. Whatever it was, the encounter I had in that shop started me on a path that moved me from anger.

I can't even remember if I walked through the door - perhaps I stumbled through it. I could barely speak. I knew from the instant the store clerk spoke to me that he was gay, which was a very good thing because if it had been a straight male I probably would have ran out. There was no one else in the store, so he came out from behind the counter and hugged me. He held me until I stopped crying.

This is pretty much what happened

When I was finally able to form words with my mouth, I told him what had happened and that I had experienced it for many years as a child. I was furious that it happened again and I didn't even see it coming. He squeezed me tighter and told me that I had to forgive myself first and then I'd be able to move towards compassion for me and others. He also told me that I needed to give myself time to grieve. This was the beginning of healing my spirit. Countless therapists tried working on my mind, as if this alone would fix everything - that just wasn't the answer.

I didn't even get his name. What he gave me is priceless. It took me a while to get here, but I have arrived and I'm bursting with the purest form of joy. Just when I think I couldn't be any happier, the universe sends something else my way. I am beautifully aware of every waking moment and experiencing things in life that I never knew existed. My words don't do it justice, really.

It's not only happiness. I still find myself grieving for the injustices others experience, but it's not overwhelming anymore and all I want to do is work harder to change it for them. This is my new motivation: making an impact for the better. While I've accepted that I can't possibly do it all, I hope someday I can see a change for the greater good and perhaps in the next life I will have the ability to do it all.

Someday I hope to run into the guy in the Beaverton store just so I can tell him how thankful I am. He held me until I stopped  sobbing and shaking and pointed me towards a path of healing. His kindness and genuine concern was moving. I've learned to forgive, I've learned to love and I've also learned to trust again. The one encounter I had with him helped me get here.

The end result is my newly found joy in belly dancing. I'd practiced it for a year and a half before I set it down because I was too consumed by anger and grief to continue. I've picked it up again with new fervor and strive for perfection . . . and then there are times when I do it strictly for fun not paying attention to technique whatsoever simply because it makes me happy.

Emotionally, physically, spiritually . . . one of the most beautiful things. 

While in Seattle I attempted a run . . . well, I did run. What struck me is that I usually channel rage to push myself. I wasn't able to do it - not even when I put on a set of music that has traditionally worked me into a frenzy. There was no anger to channel - just me giving myself a pep talk to keep running up those hills. I can't recall a time when there has never been even a subtle anger underneath the surface.

I ran into an old friend last night. She hadn't seen me in a few years. She couldn't put her finger on what had changed, but could only say that I looked beautiful to her. I know the answer - it's this immense happiness that continues to overflow in my life. 

I find something else occurring in my life as well. He came back. I love him. I love him and if he doesn't know that by now he's an oblivious fool. I am ecstatic and afraid at the same time. I take in every moment with him because they are precious to me. When he left for a retreat a couple of weeks ago I found myself counting down the days until his return . . . and then I laughed at myself because I'm usually counting down the days until I can be away from someone.

These moments with him, this state of constant joy with life that continues to amaze me - they are very dear to me and I hold them close. I always will.

He is such a beautiful person

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."  ~ Rumi