No Apologies

“And high up above or down below

When you’re too in love to let it go

But if you never try you’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you” – Coldplay

I had a panic attack this weekend. That hasn’t happened in a while. Spaniard was with me. He managed to help me snap out of it in a matter of minutes by holding me tight next to him until my breathing matched his. I was embarrassed by my episode. I keep thinking I’m done with these wretched things and am discouraged when it comes back again. I apologized. He looked at me sternly and told me to never apologize. Never!!

As he would say: Fail harder. Don't give excuses for what you're not doing and never apologize.

He then reminded me that while I may not like it, every event in my life up to this point has become a part of my essence. He told me I’m wonderful even though I choose not to see it. All of these events are linked to me and always will be; that’s just the way it is. When a memory surfaces, when I’m gripped with fear, when I’m drowning in my own feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness, I need to acknowledge those aspects of myself and dismiss them because I’m done with them now. I’m safe. I am loved. – Book of Spaniard.

Whatever happened happened. I can't change it and I can't keep wishing it away, either. It exists. Embrace it. Dismiss it. Move on.

Spaniard reads me well. I do not like it – and I’m quite certain I don’t like it because he challenges me. He pushes me because he says I can do better, I can achieve more and I can be stronger. He tells me to maintain eye contact with him. He's right and I hate it. I’ve always felt uncomfortable with this because I feel like whoever is on the receiving end of my gaze can see right through me. It makes me vulnerable. I guess I can’t hold up a façade forever. I can’t berate myself forever, either. I truly am my own worst enemy. Spaniard told me to stop honing in on the things that I think are wrong with me and focus on what I like about myself. Also, there is nothing wrong with me. – Book of Spaniard. I can't keep trying to cover my eyes and I need to let myself live. I can't achieve that if I'm consistently trying to blind myself. 

"All the powers in the universe are already ours. it is we who have put our hands before our eyes and cry that it is dark." - Swami Vivekananda

While I spend the rest of my week forcing myself to stare into my own reflection, I’m making a point of looking for the good qualities and strengths. I’m going to remind myself that the good and bad have formed me – and I am unique and wonderful. For the record, I grimaced when I typed that last sentence. This isn’t going to be easy. 

I. Hate. This!!! It just makes me cry - but I know he's right. 

As he’s reminded me that these demons I carry with me are a part of me and will come back from time to time, I need to care for myself while I work through it. Self-care has never been my forte. I’ve been saying for months that I’m going to take a weekend off and ignore the rest of the world. Has it happened? No. There’s always a crisis in someone’s life or something that requires my presence. I’m quite certain my family is the most demanding . . . My next move will be out of the mother f-ing country! At least I managed to start dancing again last week. As I’m settling in and getting back to some form of a routine, I can start to slowly incorporate the things that I value back into my life. I’ll take my break from the world eventually. In the meantime, I have a friend who will remind (or force) me to go back to the things that I love and to always give it my best shot. 

- Book of Spaniard

Demons and Fairytales

“We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don’t” Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

I remember being disheartened when I read one woman’s statement from a site she’s dedicated to healing from PTSD, “You will never be the same. Ever.” I’d like to say that statement is false, but the more years I live the more I experience that statement as a truth. I pass the same face of the mountain several times as I make my way to the top. Sometimes this brings up issues I’ve struggled with before, and sometimes it’s an entirely new set – which is what I’m facing now and this set in particular is something I never wanted to think about. Ever.

Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice and I'm coming out of this storm with boxing gloves on!

I guess I have to stand and face the music sometime, because my psyche really won’t leave it alone. Intrusive memories that trigger a mild relapse . . . . and the skittishness and neuroticism returns. Damn. It. I’ve been told on more than one occasion to remind myself where I am. It’s easier said than done. I know where I am; it doesn’t stop the memories. The only thing I know of that really works is a hell of a lot of self-care and telling myself on a daily basis that I’m okay – and I am okay. I could have easily been just another statistic; I’m still beating the odds because I am one tough mother f-er.

So where does this leave me with this particular set? Sometimes memories feel like the heaviest thing, even when you’ve shaken them out they leave traces, like a permanent wrinkle at the very core of your being. I’m getting out my iron. I guess I’m just going to have to talk about the abuse even though it grips me with an odd concoction of fury and sadness. This means I’ll be doing a lot of handwriting in my journal . . . . which I will more than likely burn once I’ve purged myself from my current plague and then I’ll put on my smiley face knowing I’ve conquered yet again. There is a way through this – I just need to find the most effective method. For now, the only approach I know is more self-care . . . expressions of gratitude, reflections of the Universe, believing in myself and dancing. Most likely bellydancing.

Note that smile. If I were my demons I'd start running. Just sayin'

“You might not feel it. You might not want even want to grow, but you will. You will grow back that part  that broke off, and that growing, that blooming – cannot happen without the pain.” – Kelle Hampton, Bloom

I’ll be reminding myself of all of the glorious and good things in my life. I have many. In addition to two doting dogs and many other things, I’m fortunate to have someone in my life that chooses to see the best in me and has exuded a calming patience towards me that I can say with all honesty I’ve never experienced before. He says he’s lucky. I think I’m the lucky one. I’ve never felt more at ease with myself in the presence of another human being. He’s given me more beautiful, perfect moments in life in the short time I’ve known him than I could ever ask for and every day I’ve spent with him has always been another ‘best day of my life’. True story.

You've already given me one. 

I never knew someone would walk into my life and I’d finally realize why it never worked out with anyone else. No one else could ever compare to him. I thought it all was a lost cause and he walked (literally – tango style) into my life and reaffirmed my faith in everything that I needed to know and believe in. I feel like I’m living in some sort of unexpected fairytale. He always tells me I’m beautiful. Always. I can tell he means it and a little part of me breaks away from my self-conscious, disbelieving self and I know I can believe him because he means it. While I can’t say he’s fixed me, he’s certainly sped up the process. I don’t have to ask him to be there because I know he always will be. 

It's you. It's always been you. 

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