Breathe … Remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this depressed and uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you survived.
Breathe … You can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They’re excruciating, I know. But honey, you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. I promise! It might not be right away, but soon, they are going to fade and it won’t feel as awful as it does right now.
Breathe … You can do this. And when these crushing feelings do pass, you’ll look back at this moment and wonder why you ever doubted your own resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing … again and again.
This will pass. I promise it will pass. Just breathe.
Sometimes it’s a dog that fills the void. The room feels so different when she isn’t in it.
People come and go and they will repeatedly let you down. They make promises they can’t keep, love you – but with conditions, and leave when things get hard. But a dog? A dog just stays. No questions, no demands. She’s just there, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize you had growing inside you.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so small can take up so much room in your life?
Well no, not strange. It’s just … rare. The kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything but still gives you everything in return. The kind that’s always there when you need it most, and somehow, without a single word, it reminds you that you are worthy of being loved.
Zoey, my 9-year-old yellow lab, is lying beside me in my hotel room tonight. She’s bringing a desperately needed sense of calm to my anxious nervous system. I have been in and out of fight, flight and freeze all week. We traveled 5 hrs today and checked in to a hotel for the night. In the morning I have an appointment for a special medical test that can only be done in this particular hospital.
I am an amputee. I lost my left arm in a car accident 10 yrs ago so I have been living with just one hand. Last week I seriously injured that hand and it has had devastating consequences. Life changing. I am looking at partial to full loss of use of the full hand and wrist, which would strip me of most of my independence.
I’m scared. This test tomorrow will determine which type of surgery they will be performing and whether or not it can be repaired. There are a lot of unknowns and the fear is trying to strangle the life out of me.
But as I lay here with my girl beside me, listening to her deep relaxed breathing I am reminded to take a deep breath of my own. I realize that there’s nothing I can do tonight other than rest. Worrying is only causing more suffering. Tomorrow will come and I will face each challenge as it comes. So for now, I’m going to pause and appreciate the presence of my beautiful furry companion.
I’m going to reclaim my peace tonight as I allow the love of my dog to calm the fear and anxiety within me. With no questions or demands, I know Zoey will bring comfort to my hurting soul.
Another restless night, tossing and turning, yearning for relief from the pain that’s raging in both legs and head. The demon of pain strikes much harder when vulnerabilities are high. Tired. Emotionally drained. Quesy from a day of unhealthy erratic eating. Cold.
Be gentle …
The demon of self contempt emerges from the shadows, tempting me to engage in the game we so often play. He pounces on me. Stupid! Fat pig ... More derogatory comments about being fat and choosing a Dairy Queen ice cream over black coffee. WEAK.
My quivering voice whispers, “Be gentle …” in return.
Be gentle …
You precious soul. I see you. I feel your pain. Breathe through it. I am with you.
Demons become angry, cursing me for allowing the presence of gentleness. Get out, they growl. How dare you show up here NOW. You’re too late. The damage is done.
Grief comes out of the shadows. Too much has been lost, she weeps.
Anger bursts forth, with vengeance. DON’T you dare give in. Gentleness doesn’t belong here.
Be gentle …
Out of the shadow creeps memory. Thoughts of the nightmare start toppling over one another. My body shivers and shakes, building momentum by the second.
Be gentle …
Fire shoots at me from the demon of harm. New pain sears it’s way into the flesh of my upper thigh and I gasp, breath catching in my throat.
Be gentle…
You darling child. I see how much it hurts. Here, hold my hand. Give me that flaming dagger. Let it go.
“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23)
Heavenly Father sits beside me on the cold tile of the bathroom floor and together we watch the demons fade into the darkness at the sound of His voice.
Those words were shared in an email response that I received from my psychologist last week. It had been a difficult session and afterwards, I spiraled. I emailed her in the midst of my upset and her brief reply ended with those words – Hope strengthens, fear kills.
Yes. I am scared. Terrified – of my own brain. I have no control whatsoever of the way it reacts to things anymore. Its like I’m dealing with a completely separate entity. I’m going about my day as if im babysitting some overly dramatic child that can’t be left alone for 2 minutes or else it’s going to get into something it’s not supposed to.
I got up after a nightmare that night and spiraled into the danger zone. I remembered that Magda (psychologist) had pointed out a couple of wins from the previous week (which I really appreciated) and she said that what I was doing was helping me grow my window of tolerance. In my frustration that night, I was like, “F* my window of tolerance. I’m not doing this”.
I want to be numb. I want to go back to the days when I was void of all emotion. I used to be so frozen inside but it’s like I’m thawing out now. I don’t want my thoughts to be so loud or sounds to be so clear. When my head was heavy and foggy and I barely even remembered conversations I didn’t have to deal with any of this stuff. My brain dissociated for a reason.
I feel like I’m going crazy. The fear is strangling me. Choking me. Killing me …
I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to me. So much fear, that I’m going to just snap, go totally crazy, lose my sanity entirely.
Fear. Its trying to kill me. The fear of uncertainty. Not knowing from one minute to the next what I’m going to think or feel. The fear that I’m not strong enough … that I might find myself completely alone and have to navigate it all by myself – again … that I’m going to collapse under all the pressure … fear that I’m going to start but never be able to stop crying …
Fear kills.
*Video clip of me in the midst of a panic attack*
BUT ….
she also said that hope strengthens. Hope. I need strength. I need hope. I’m not going to find either if I just wait around for it to fall into my lap though. So I must make it my daily goal to seek out hope. I know it exists in more than just the ink on my wrist. I see it around me. I see that other ppl have it. Its just that it never feels like there’s any for me.
If you want something in this world you have to go after it right? Well, I want to be strong. I want hope to fill me and strengthen me.
Me: God, I’m scared. I’m trying so hard not to be, but I am.
God: I know, my child. Do you want to talk about it?
Me: No, not really. Besides, you already know everything. Talking isn’t going to change it.
God: Let’s talk about it anyway. We’ve done this before.
Me: I know. I’m just so tired. I should be stronger than this. I can’t seem to get anything right.
God: *waiting patiently, never annoyed.*
Me: I’m just so tired. I’m never going to figure out how to live and manage all this. Its too much. I’m scared that I’m going to crack under all this pressure. My heart has never felt so broken before. I’m afraid that my attempts to recover are actually going to be what kills me. I’m afraid that I’m not strong enough to cope with it all. I’m afraid of the things I’m having to process in therapy. I’ve spent years acting as if my nightmares are just that – things in my imagination. I have tried so hard to make it all go away. Its what my whole life has revolved around. But all that energy put into avoiding has been for nothing because here I am, having to stare it straight in the face.
God: Anything else?
Me: EVERYTHING ELSE.
God: Remember the other day when the smoke alarm was beeping in the kitchen and Buddy came running across the house?
Me: Yes.
God: When you heard him running, you started calling out to him before he even got to you … remember? Do you remember what you called out to him?
Me: I said, “You’re okay! You’re okay! Mommy’s right here.”
God: Why did you call out to him? Why didn’t you just wait until he got to you?
Me: Because I wanted him to know that I was here, and I heard him, and he didn’t have to be afraid because I was right here.
God: Exactly. I hear you, my child. I hear your thoughts racing like Buddy’s little puppy feet down the hallway. There’s another side to all of this and I’m already there. I’ve seen the end of it. And I want you to know that as you walk through all of this, you’re going to be okay. I haven’t turned my back on you. I’m right here. I always was and I always will be.
Me: *crying* Can you just wait here with me for a while until I calm down? Can you hold me and cover me in your peace before I go back to facing it all again?
It all started when I went for my regular Ketamine infusion, which is part of my treatment for Complex Regional Pain Syndrome.
Felicia, the head nurse, asked if I was doing ok. She said I wasn’t looking like myself and that I was pale. I said I was good and that was all that was said.
I remember lying back on the stretcher while they prepped me, putting heart monitoring stickers on my chest, attaching a BP cuff to my arm, oxygen in my nose … I was shivering and could feel tears running down from the corners of my eyes but i had no emotions. It was strange because that doesn’t usually happen. They took my hand to start an IV and I heard a faint voice in my head whispering – don’t touch me.
I remember turning my head to the side and just letting myself drift away. Don’t have any more memories about the treatment than that.
Once the infusion was done they wanted to talk to David. Felicia asked him how I’ve been doing lately. David later told me that he told her I’ve been purging a lot, that I’ve been quite depressed and that he’s been worried. Apparently she told him that I’m not looking well. That I was pale, my eyes were dark, and my lips were almost grey.
I was awake, my eyes were open, but I was non-responsive. My neck and head were spasming and I was staring off with no reaction when someone spoke or touched me. So they decided to keep me an extra hour to give me more fluids and more time to let the meds wear off. David asked if they felt I had taken anything and she said no because my vitals were all good. But they did bloodwork just to be sure.
An hour later Felicia called David back in and told him that he needs to take me to the ER. Apparently I had been mumbling some things that no one could really pick out but Felicia had heard me say something about this being the end and it was almost time to die …. I don’t remember any of that. I’m just telling what I was told.
So they put me in a wheelchair and David registered me in the ER, where I sat/slumped for 9 hours. David said I kept falling to the side as if I couldn’t hold myself up. He had to ask for a pillow and blanket to put around me to secure me a bit. He said I was in a completely different world.
Then they called us in to a small room that had nothing but 2 chairs bolted to the floor. And that’s where I spent the next 26 hours. It was nothing short of brutal.
Tears are burning my eyes now as I write that. I think it’s cruel how this was handled. They took me from the OR after having a procedure done and forced me to sit up on hard seats for a total of 36 hours. I was hallucinating. I was in terrible pain and developed a migraine. Had multiple bouts of vomiting. And I started experiencing opiate withdrawal because after I took my meds Thursday morning, I wasn’t given anything until Friday night. By that time I had missed 6 doses of morphine. It was torture.
David had to leave at one point. We had taken our dogs with us that morning. So David spent the entire day going from me in the hospital to the dogs in the car. He’d switch every hour. Take them for a walk, a drink, get them a snack then settle them in the car again before coming back in with me. But they couldn’t do that all night. So around 10pm he spoke to the staff. They assured him that I would be in safe hands and would be looked after so he left to go home with the dogs. Just before he left, he brought me in Zoey’s blanket from the car because he’d been asking for a blanket for me for 2 hrs with no luck. So I just kinda dozed off, sitting up in the chair, with Zoey’s blanket over me.
At one point I started to be more alert and I was really confused. I needed to use the bathroom but there wasn’t one so I left the room and just wandered around a bit. I went to the nurse’s station and asked if there was a bathroom and he said down the hall on the right. I roamed the hospital for a while. Took the elevator a few times, and eventually made my way back to that room. I called David, upset, wanting to know what was going on. When he realized that I was still there in that room – alone, he drove back to Grand Falls again at 4am. In the meantime, while hyperventilating and being trapped in that space with the chairs bolted to the floor, I clawed/scratched/cut my neck.
David came, and he channeled his anger into fighting for me. He took me outside for some air then went and found a vending machine and got me a sandwich and water. I hadn’t had anything since 7am the previous day. Thankfully there was one nurse there on Friday that had a bit of respect and showed some compassion. She even gave me a little bit of her on personal toothpaste so I could brush my teeth. No one gave me a breakfast tray but she made sure there was one for me by lunch time. And she also contacted the necessary ppl to get my meds ordered.
Then my psychiatrist came. It was still another long painful day sitting in that chair but by Friday evening I was admitted to the psyc unit.
And I’m still here. I am much more stable than I was over 2 weeks ago but still have a ways to go. Have no idea what is going to come out of this.
As soon as I sit up in the morning the attack begins. The team of critics living inside my head open their ugly mouths and just let loose.
“You should go out somewhere today. You should socialize. You need to meet some people and at least pretend to be a participating member of society. You are such a baby! You can’t even handle calling someone and inviting them over for coffee!! You hate being alone … just as much as you like it. You’re impossible to please! Remember how awful the loneliness feels?!! You feel invisible. Forgotten. You’re very existence on this earth is pointless! You crave attention. You long to be part of society.
Yet as bad as it all feels you can’t get out of your own way! Grow up!!! Stop acting so foolish. You panic just thinking about allowing another person to get close to you. Fear paralyzes you when there’s a knock at your door. Ppl tell you to give them a call sometime but your hand trembles even at the thought of picking up the phone. Useless is what you are. You’re just a stupid, fat monster. No one would want to be around you anyway. Ppl are embarrassed to be seen with you. You’re deformed. Ppl stare at your shoulder and wonder why you only have one arm. Your ugliness is impossible to ignore and it’s all ppl see. You turn their stomach!! You stupid b!t@h …”
And on and on it goes.
While this is all true I did not choose this solitary lifestyle. Rather it chose me. I keep my distance from groups of people while often avoiding one-on-one interactions as well. The stress of human interactions has become something I now need to keep at a minimum because it seems as if my ability to tolerate stress and anxiety has dropped extensively.
I cannot withstand stress the way that I used to. All my life I have thrived on adrenaline and often find myself seeking out situations that will provide me with some sort of a rush but these days I find that the rush I get from the stress is a bit too much. I feel myself buckling under the heavy load that I carry around on my shoulders. I do my best and commit myself to things even though sometimes I push beyond my limits. I push and push and push until I break and fall apart.
Today though I am going to accept my limitations. I will not push myself to the point of breaking – physically or emotionally. What I have to offer today is all that I am going to give.
My in-laws are here visiting for a few days. They come 3-4 times a year and stay with us for a few days. And every time I end up falling apart behind closed doors. The pressure to be the perfect daughter-in-law gets me every single time. But I’ve had enough!
They are here in MY home and I refuse to give them the power to destroy my peace and joy. After arriving yesterday evening I prepared lasagna for them. David was at work so I was on my own. That part didn’t bother me because it was only for that evening, and then he’s off for a few days.
But I need to vent here for a minute because I’m just so … exasperated! They made a big deal about missing us and wanting to come and spend some time with us. They dropped their bags on the floor in the kitchen and sat at the table, their attention going to their cell phones. I sat and chatted with them but it would have been more entertaining had I just talked to the wall.
So I busied myself with the meal and clean-up and they got up and left the room. But not before pulling several bottles of alcohol from their bags.
By 8pm both of them were slumped over on the couch, asleep. David got home from work and just shook his head in disbelief. We know that they both have a problem with alcohol. But to drive 4 hours to visit your kids only to drink yourself into a semi-coma state within a few hours of arriving is ridiculous, in my opinion.
But I can’t take this personally anymore. Usually, I would beat up on myself by thinking that I was boring. I’d tell myself that they hate being around me and that I am so fat and ugly that they can’t stand to be in the same room as me. I’d spiral into believing that my house was not good enough. It’s too hot, too cold, not clean enough, my couch isn’t comfy, too much dog fur, the scented candle is too strong, my shower curtain is ugly, it’s too dark, too bright … and on and on and on.
No more. It has to stop! Over the years I’ve allowed my sanity to crumble every time they visit. It usually takes about a week after they’ve left for my nervous system to settle down. And I’m tired of it! This is MY home. It is my safe space and no one should have the power to ruin it for me. They will no longer cause me to become physically ill from the stress.
They are responsible for their behavior and if they decide to come here and be rude and disrespectful then that’s on them. David was looking forward to spending a few days with his mom and step-father. His mom keeps saying how she misses us but now that she’s here she shows no interest whatsoever in our lives. David was telling them something about his job and she literally interrupted him to show him a picture of a garden ornament that her friend had just bought. David looked as if she’d slapped him in the face. It broke my heart.
When we went to bed David and I were talking and agreed we can’t let this get to us. We will not allow this to pull us down. I’m done catering to them and walking on eggshells to avoid doing anything that they don’t like. I’m gonna go about things as I always do. I’m going to sit in my favorite spot. I’m going to have the temperature the way we have it every day. My dogs will play and make noise and I refuse to shush them or take their toys away. I’m not letting them turn my week upside down. I’m not going to stand in my closet to cry and I’m certainly not going to spend today in the bathroom throwing up from the anxiety like I did yesterday. Nope!
I’m not letting my peace be ripped away from me by other ppl. I work too hard to maintain my sanity on a daily basis to let you come into my space and strip it away. You can be you but I will be ME and I’m not going to end up sick from the stress of your presence in my home. Not this time.
We all have thoughts fluttering around in our minds, whispering the most absurd and brilliant things a human brain could be capable of. But when your mind is sick, the whispers become screams. They are noise that draws our attention away from reality. This noise leads to despair.
Often I found myself wanting to let go and yell back at the things inside my head. It seems as if its the only thing I can do –
I was buried under a pile of blankets Counting my breaths Attempting to drown out all the noise Trying to slow down my racing thoughts Praying to hold on Fighting the darkness Willing myself to get up Practicing positive self-talk Bargaining with the universe Begging the pain to just Stop.
Yesterday evening was rough. Anxiety had been raging through my body all day and my mood was all over the place. I was pretty discouraged. But it was a beautiful evening and I had been out in the garden. My pain level was quite high and I was close to tears. I sat back in my chair on the patio and I was looking up at the sky. Talking to God, I was telling Him how I could really use a dose of encouragement.
There was a notification on my phone and it was a pastor friend of mine. We began chatting and I shared a bit of what was going on. In between texts I was resting my head against the back of the chair, looking up at the sky. I noticed a long white jet trail stretching out above me. And when I looked closer I saw another trail beginning. I watched the jet make it’s way across the sky, soaking up the beauty of the evening sunset.
I’ve seen many jets in my lifetime, flying high in the sky, but what I witnessed yesterday was like a personal sign from God. The thought came to me … beauty still remains, you just need to look closer. It moved me to tears. The colors of the sky at that precise moment along with the fresh jet streams running above me were such a sight to behold.
I was reminded, in more ways than one, that I am not alone even though it felt that way yesterday evening. I was reminded that in the midst of struggle, beauty remains. Between the words coming to me from Linda and the view stretching across the sky above me, I was encouraged. Which is what I asked for.
Its been such a beautiful day for a road trip! We are in Bay Roberts for the night to attend our Goddaughter’s first communion tomorrow morning.
June 8th, 2024
♡•♡•♡•♡
The weather was beautiful. We took our time. No rushing necessary today. We set up the backseat of our car so that the dogs would have a comfy trip. Their dog bed covers the entire back seat perfectly so whenever we are going to be in the car for a while we bring it along.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about this trip. But Buddy’s anxiety was through the roof the entire 5 hours we were on the road. We made a stop pretty much every hour to let them get out and have a short walk and a drink. Zoey was great. Not much of a sound out of her all day but Buddy trembled for more than half of the trip and spent most of it in my arms. I’ve never seen him upset Ike that because he loves being in the car.
Buddy, trying to make his way into the front seat
Overall it’s been a good day. The sun has been food for my soul and the colors of this evening’s sky were sheer perfection. These are the kind of days that give me strength to want to wake up again tomorrow.
I had my Ketamine infusion on Thursday This time was harder than the others have been over the past few months. Maybe because I was dehydrated …? I don’t know. But … I honestly did not think I was that dehydrated though. It never even crossed my mind when I went in there. I could tell that one of the regular nurses started to get frustrated. She said my veins were even smaller than they usually are. It took her quite a while to locate one that she would even attempt to put an iv into. She started sweating and I felt soooo bad. I wish I could have just pointed to a spot anywhere on my body and said, there’s a vein! But there were literally no visible veins to be found.
So then came the manual search. She was gentle, like she usually is, but even just running a finger over my skin and some light tapping hurt. I felt as if I was covered in bruises. Except I wasn’t. I was just cold. After her 3rd failed attempt she called over another nurse who started with my hand, then worked her way up my arm, poking and patting and rubbing to try and get a vein to swell up enough for an iv needle to thread into. She said something about my arm being cold and commented on the fact that I appeared to be quite dehydrated. Something about the elasticity of my skin. I can’t remember exactly what it was that she said.
By this point the shivering had started. The first nurse took my socks off and started rubbing the top of my foot while the other one made several attempts at what she thought were strong veins. I had been fighting with every bit of strength I had to hold back tears but after another failed attempt at yet another promising vein – in my foot this time – a sob came out of my mouth. It actually took me off guard because I was not expecting it. I thought that the imaginary valve in the back of my throat was secure in the closed-off position but the force behind that sob blew right through it.
Somewhere along the line a 3rd nurse had come over and was rubbing my other foot. I didn’t remember her coming. It’s like she just appeared. She rubbed my leg and said, I’m only going to try once and if I don’t get it we’ll have to call Jackie. Jackie is one of the anaesthesiologists in the hospital and has been called on more than one occasion to come and place an iv in me. She’s never had to poke me more than 2 times and more often than not she got it in on the first try.
So that’s what happened. They called Jackie. In the meantime the nurses tidied up around my bed and got me a clean, warm blanket. They had used the other one to catch blood that had ran down my arm. They said they were going to give me a little break and then left me alone for a few minutes. I turned over on my side and held the blanket against my mouth and nose. I didn’t want anyone to hear me cry.
I stared at the curtain and just started praying. God, I can’t handle this … It’s too much. It hurts … it hurts all over. It doesn’t usually hurt this much. I don’t want them to touch me anymore. God, please … this is torture … I can’t …….... I know you’re here. You’re always with me. You tell me you’ll never leave me and I can come to you anytime. Well, I’m here and I really need you to be here too right now. God, please … make it stop ...
Jackie pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of my bed after a brief look over my arm and not finding anything of interest. She started rubbing my foot with her hands, to try and warm them up, she said. She told me to try and relax and to take a few deep breaths. With that little bit of compassion from her, I felt a fresh stream of tears run down from the corners of my eyes. She told me that if I take a few deep breaths it will help the blood to flow better through my veins and that my blood needs oxygen to flow properly.
Every time I tried to inhale my breath kept catching in my throat, which in turn led to a small gasp to get it back. It took several attempts before I got a good breath in but it really helped. I had started to feel like I was floating away. After a few good breaths I started to feel the bed beneath me again and I could feel Jackie patting the top of my foot. She spoke and told me to, stay really still now. I instantly lost my breath again. I felt the needle pierce the top of my foot and she slowly went deeper. I heard the click of the release button, indicating the iv was threaded into the vein and could be released from the needle. It’s in, she said. You need to breathe ….
And that’s all I remember. That was around 11am on Thursday. The next clear moment was when I felt Zoey’s wet nose against my arm around 9am Friday morning. Ketamine has that effect on me. It tends to wipe my memory clean of almost everything for 12 – 24 hours following the infusion.
My head felt like it had been smashed against a wall when I lifted it off my pillow this morning. I did a quick body scan to see if there was pain anywhere else. Nope. All clear! The first 24 – 48 hours after my Ketamine infusions are the closest I get to being ‘pain-free’. Today offered little space to appreciate the low pain level though. It was a freaking emotional roller-coaster inside of me today. Tears began shortly after I got up. I was washing my face and noticed that one of my earrings had fallen out at some point. This big wave of sadness just swept right over me and tears started falling. Wasn’t expecting that!
A little while later I was laying back on the couch and David was sitting on the opposite end. We were watching an episode of Station 19 on TV together and there was an intimate scene between a husband and wife. More tears … and no words to explain.
And that’s how the day has been. Little random things causing waves of tears. I was outside planting some things my therapist gave me, and tears were flowing. I accidentally bumped my leg, more tears. David called out and asked me to come outside so he could show me something and I cried while I walked out across the garden. Then just before I got in the shower I sat on the bench in the bathroom and cried even more. Like seriously. There was no end to the tears. And it all felt like it came from a gut-wrenching sadness that had tremendous force behind it. It could not, would not, be stifled.
The day is over now. It is late, or early, depending on how you see 3am. I’m reluctant to go to bed, as I sometimes find being in a horizontal position also heightens my emotions. And I’m feeling pretty raw as it is. But we are going out of town tomorrow, for the night. On Sunday our God-daughter has her very first communion and we’d like to be there with her. My face is swollen. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy. And my mood is all over the place. But the very least I can do is attempt to get a few hours of rest. Even if that means just lying still, with my eyes closed, while my brain continues trailing off.
Stillness is not effortless for me. It takes work sometimes. Wellness takes effort and I’m trying my best to do what I have to do, even when I don’t want to. Do what you have to do to make it to see one more sunrise. 🌻
Sometimes it’s hard to breathe All these thoughts are shouting at me Trying to bring me to my knees And it’s overwhelming Darkness echoes all around Feels like everything is crashing down Still I know where my hope is found It’s in You.
You say You’re working everything for my good and I believe every word
‘Cause even in the madness, there is peace Drowning out the voices all around me Through all of this chaos You are writing a symphony
Tune my heart to Your beat Let me be Your melody Even when I cannot see. You orchestrate it Even when the darkness surrounds You’ll never let me drown I know that my hope is found In the name of Jesus.
And even in the madness, there is peace Drowning out the voices all around me Through all of this chaos You are writing a symphony.
I want to truly know if You compose beautiful music though From all my unruly notes. The distance is dissonance.
You erased the scales from my eyes Then played the scale of my life Chaos played out with chords in accord With the source prevailing through strife.
I’ve tasted suffering I’ve been embraced by the painful buffering I’ve been bound by doubts, so loud right now But a melody is made when you play these rusty keys. So we all gotta get pressed And tuned up like instruments I know life’s tempo is set So I must remember this …
That even in the madness, there is peace Drowning out the voices all around me Through all of this chaos you are writing a symphony
Ive dealt with disordered eating for as long as I can remember. It’s like it functions by a dimmer switch. It’s always there to some degree. Sometimes the switch is turned down and, while never really on friendly terms with food, sometimes it’s not all-consuming. Purging is random and not an everyday occurrence during those times. Thoughts are not centered on food all day.
Then the switch gets turned up. Something will be particularly activating and the behaviors become prominent again. l have a few days or weeks where food is at the forefront of my mind and restricting, binging, and purging is what everything revolves around day and night.
Then the dimmer switch will turn down and I can pull myself out of the cycle again.
This time it’s proving to be much harder to pull myself out of it. There was no gradual onset. And I can almost pinpoint the exact moment the alarms started going off in my head. It was when I was in the hospital a few weeks ago …
I was in the bed connected to the various tubes and machines, with no clothes on, just several blankets wrapped around me, bags of glucose and potassium running into my neck, fluids, and calcium flowing in through an IV in my foot, I had a catheter…
2 nurses were at my bedside with juice, cookies, and cheese telling me I had to eat it and they weren’t going to leave until they watched me finish it because after all, that food was my ‘medicine’ …
I was severely hypo-glycemic and it was imperative that they grasp every possible solution, and that included food with simple sugars.
Since that moment my mind has become preoccupied with every single bite of food I take. The monster in my head has woken up and is on a vicious rampage. I gained a few lbs in those 2 weeks b/c of everything I had to eat. And drink. So many calories were consumed through fluids alone!
3 days before I was discharged they took the catheter out and I could get out of bed then. The first thing I did was go and throw up. The tubes in my neck complicated things a bit because the pressure of vomiting kept causing the alarms on the IV pole to go off. But once I figured out what the different buttons were for I was able to turn off the alarms by myself.
So here I am, spiraling. I’m mentally and physically unwell because of the sudden lack of medication in my system. So vulnerabilities are running high. I feel raw, trying to claw my way out of this mess.
The family has gone to the rec center to decorate for the birthday party tonight. I opted to stay home with the dogs. They’re here beside me, soaking up all the different sounds and smells.
In-law’s backyard
Chronic pain is wreaking havoc on my body today. Despite being fully recovered from being crushed in a car crash in 2010, my left leg throbs with pain. From the base of my skull to lowest part of my back, burning, lava like sensations flow in all directions. It too has recovered, from the same crash, having been broken in 5 places. It once rendered me immobile but I proved medicine wrong and within a year I was walking again. But the cell memory remains intact and sometimes pain pulls me under. Especially in times of high stress. And today is one of those days. But I know that this too shall pass.
Having accepted that I can’t do and be like everyone else today, I’ve resolved to breathe and be gentle to self as much as possible. After everyone had left though, anxiety wrapped it’s ugly hands around my throat and with one quick gasp I began to hyperventilate.
My body trembled … sounds faded away as a high-pitched ringing appeared in my right ear. The intense pounding of my heart was making it almost impossible for air to reach my lungs. The pounding echoed through my skull. An overwhelming sense of terror seeped into every pore on my body, causing my limbs to go stiff with fear. I couldn’t breathe … I was being smothered. Where am I? This is not my house. I am not safe here … I HAVE TO GET OUT!
Frozen with fear
Suddenly, I didn’t know where I was. I heard something being whispered inside my head … he’s here. I felt my body begin to tingle, sending a shiver right through my very core. I had a sudden urge to rip at my skin with my fingernails.
I was losing it. My connection to reality was slipping away and I was drifting into another time and place. I was back in an experience that I didn’t want to remember. In someone else’s house. Under someone’s watch. Being stared at …
Mixed Reality
My current surroundings are unfamiliar and therefore intimidating and I think it triggered an emotional flashback. Being alone in this house gives me a very unsettling feeling and I felt like I was being watched. That feeling of someone staring reminded me of something else. And the thing about a traumatized brain is that it can’t tell time. Feeling this way today brought forth a memory of a previous time when I was being watched. It was not a pleasant memory and my body reacted as if this was that same time.
With both dogs at my feet, both recognizing the shift in my energy, we stepped outside where the cool air worked it’s way into my lungs. The change in temperature and lighting brought me back to now. 2024. My in-law’s house. It’s a safe house. This backyard is safe. Zoey and Buddy are just a few feet away. Look at them. It’s 2024. Its just the 3 of us. You’re OK …
The birds are chirping. I pick out at least 3 different songs being sung. Several little ones fly up from the ground at the sound of my footsteps and into a nearby evergreen, causing its current inhabitants to flutter off to the next tree. I scan the whole yard for potential areas of danger and once I felt relatively confident it was ok, I looked down at Zoey and Buddy and told them it was ok to go play. Off they ran, overjoyed with canine pleasure.
Buddy and Zoey
I wandered around the backyard, first focusing on the ground directly in front of my feet,as I needed the visual proof of what was around me. The sound of one of my dogs nearby, sniffing something of interest, reminded me of their presence. This caused a slight wave of relief to roll over my chest.
Last Year’s Leaf
I looked around at the trees and took note of a couple of dead leaves scraping along the ground in the wind. There was a fairly steady flow of traffic on the road out in front on the house so instead I headed further into the back of the property. I wanted to avoid the street to keep the dogs away from traffic, but I also wanted to avoid the stares from passersby, strangers to me, curious to see this outsider who was here in their town this weekend.
Zoey and Buddy, Bay Roberts, NL
I maintained the general route the dogs were taking, zigzaging all around yard with them until the shivering from cold was too much for my burning back to endure. I had accidentally left my jacket at home, tossed over the back of a chair … 5 hours away. Still not wanting to go inside I went in and added another hoodie to my current outfit then took my mother in-law’s red blanket from the couch. Now here I am, in the backyard, attempting to soothe my body as much as possible.
These attacks are draining.
Buddy BuddyZoey
I need to get ready for this evening. Attending this 60th birthday celebration is far outside of my comfort zone. But I feel obligated to be there. We don’t make it to see David’s family more than a few times a year and his family is very important to him. I would never stand in the way of that. Having had such an episode (I honestly don’t know what else to call it. Breakdown, maybe? Meltdown? Crash?) take place recently, David didn’t want to leave town without me. So I agreed to make the trip to his hometown for his mom’s birthday.
First I need to make space to breathe in some calm and exhale the overwhelm, as I sit here in the beautiful outdoors.
A lot has happened over the past week. My uncle passed away which meant I had to go back to my hometown, which happens to be at the top of my list of least favorite places on earth.
The 2 days I was there have stirred up a lot of unwanted crap, bringing on a stream of anxiety. I’m drowning in waves of it. Just when I get myself back to baseline, my body stops trembling and I allow myself to take a breath, the air gets stuck in my throat and I start gasping again.
Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.
When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging, calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.
I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.
I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.
Dishes … laundry … returning a call to my mom, who has been calling for 2 days but I don’t have the strength to pick up the phone and utter the word ‘hello’.
I’ve been putting off hanging a pile of shirts in our closet, but hey, at least it’s all clean..
I’ve been putting off some photo editing as well. I have a little over 120 pictures needing to be uploaded to my laptop, and sorted then edited but I haven’t been able to get in a clear frame of mind to even be able to think about it.
I’ve also been putting off something else… asking for help, telling somebody … because I anticipate that things will get a lot worse if I do. Depression has flooded every part of me, both physically and mentally. I have very little control over what enters my mind. From terrifying images that flash without warning to lines from songs that get stuck on repeat, over and over and over to absolute silence.
A couple of ppl know I’m not well but they aren’t in any position to help. My psychiatrist is out of the country until the new year. I have no more options. Unless … I go to my family doctor. Tell her how severe my insomnia has become. But I’ve been putting it off because …
I’m scared. I’m scared of having to answer any questions she may have because I really don’t want to talk about the fear, the dreams, the feelings, the memories …….
Sometimes I need to be reminded of things that are outside of this particular moment. I get so caught up in what I’m feeling rightnow or I get stuck in a memory loop, where I have one specific flashback that plays repeatedly, consuming me … I forget that I have an entire life outside of this place where I’m stuck. That’s where I have been discovering that any type of visual reminder, of a positive moment, helps me to become grounded. I have added a few videos and pictures to a folder on my phone and I’ve been sitting here in my bathroom, watching the videos on repeat.
This one shows a moment from this summer that has stayed with me very vividly. The way I felt in that moment was something I became very mindful of so I’m guessing that’s why I can feel it to be so real. I had been walking the beach near my house and my 2 dogs were with me. We’d had 2 days of rain so they were super happy to be outside and get to run around. When I stopped I took in all of my surroundings and I felt such an incredible warm feeling run through the center of my chest. Everything in that moment bordered on perfection. The direction of the sun, the temperature, the light breeze in my hair, the warmth from the sun shining down on my face, my dogs barking after each other as they zoom past me to chase each other through the salt water …
There are always things that you can cling to in moments of difficulty that can serve as an anchor. You might have one specific thing or many different ones. Whatever the case might be, use them. If you have to watch a 17 second video 29 times in a row to get the trembling in your bones to stop, then do it. You so deserve to be reminded of these moments of joy when the weight of depression is trying to crush you.
Having achors to keep you grounded is a great tool to have in your toolbox. One of my go-to skills.
This song hit me like a ton of bricks last night. See, I have this thing about always saying I’m ok. If I was on the floor, crying, and bleeding I would still look up at you and tell you that I’m ok. It seems like those are the only 2 words that exist in my vocabulary sometimes.
So last night I was in a pretty dark mood and instead of seeking out positive things to draw out a lighter mood, I was like … screw this DBT stuff. I was angry but no idea why. And the sadness was so heavy that it was almost tangible. I opened up youtube and just started going from one song to another and then this one started playing.
It amazes me how music can so accurately speak for me when the words aren’t there. At the beginning of every session my therapist asks me how I am doing and my automatic response is … I’m okay. Every. Single. Time. Because I don’t have the words to accurately answer her question. To be honest, I don’t think I know how to be anything other than ‘okay’.
So for now, I’ll let the lyrics of this song say it for me. And while it plays quietly in my ear I’ll just keep smiling and telling you … I’m okay.
Tonight the monsters in my head Are screaming so damn loud But I built walls so high So they never even make a sound
It’s a mask, it’s a lie It’s the only home I’ve ever known ‘Cause being who I really am Has only left me more alone
I am not okay And I need you to see it I have so much to say And no one to hear it The reason I keep quiet With so much at stake I always feel like a burden, let it silence me You’ll never understand Why it’s so hard to say I’m not okay
I wish I had a scar Had a bruise on the surface, any kind of proof That everything I feel is more than just some sad excuse
My life’s invisible abuse I’m either judged or have to hide The only symptom you can see Is I don’t wanna be alive,
I am not okay And I need you to see it I have so much to say And no one to hear it The reason I keep quiet With so much at stake I always feel like a burden, let it silence me You’ll never understand Why it’s so hard to say
I’ll never have the words, I can’t explain this hell But what if it kills me If I keep it to myself? To myself
I am not okay And I need you to see it I have so much to say And no one to hear it I am not okay I am not okay I’m never safe It’s not a phase If I finally break Would you still stay?
Her Complex Musings 
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