Like stones thrown into a lake, trauma creates ripples in the water that change not only its still, glassy surface but reverberate all the way through its flourishing ecosystems underneath. These microscopic quivers are often invisible, but present nonetheless—settling into the bones, minds, and memories of every survivor who’s known them.
When these ripples are born from multiple traumatic experiences, they can collide into chaos or build upon each other in strength – powerfully reshaping the ways a survivor sees themselves and the world around them. They can shift how one experiences their body, pain, touch, and even comfort; how they interpret and respond to danger, intense emotions, relationships, sensory input, and subtle reminders of that trauma; and how they’re seen by others. It can be difficult to disentangle the natural ebb and flow of the water’s currents from the ripples made from a downpour of stones.
Despite all the waves and wreckage, just as a lake remains beautiful, inviting, and a calm respite to all who wish to visit, survivors retain their beauty and resilience in spite of their trauma. Their healing isn’t about how quickly they can return to serene stillness after all that rocky hail, but in recognizing the unseen tremblings underneath, and finding ways to create harmony in concert with their movement. To those on the water’s edge, just as we respect nature’s quiet endurance, we should offer the same respect to those who’ve experienced trauma—tossing fewer stones and perhaps adding a few more reeds to ease a quivering shoreline.
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.
Oh boy. I’m really feeling the effects of the seasons changing this year. It’s like the end of summer has brought about some sort of strange grieving process.
When the alarm on my phone starts calling me up in the morning I open my eyes and with disappointment I discover that there is no sunlight bouncing on the walls now. Daylight is only just beginning to brighten my room. Over the past few months though, I’ve been waking at this same time to fresh, natural light and through the open window I hear the birds singing their good morning songs for me. This morning I was greeted with a chill in the air, that sent a shiver from head to toe, and silence. It will be months and months before my bedroom is bright, and sunny, and … welcoming at 6:00am again.
Upon waking every morning this week, my heart rate picks up speed and nausea rises from my stomach, stopping near the back of my throat just short of overflowing it’s wretchedness into my mouth. Repeatedly I swallow in an attempt to push it back down but it refuses to fully recede. It lingers there well into the late morning, making it difficult to get my daily doses of prescription meds into my body without gagging.
This morning I switched on my therapy light lamp. Does it actually work the way it claims? I have no idea. But it can’t cause any harm. So I will continue to bring as much light to my surroundings as possible. Darkness is not my friend and as I make my way through the next weeks and months I know that there will be much more of it. One can’t fight darkness with darkness. Only light can do that. So whether it be therapy lights, candles, lamps, the fireplace, or strands of twinkling lights strung from corner to corner, I know I need to start fitting it in wherever I can.
I hate this overwhelming feeling of dread that is growing inside of me. Every day it seems to fill another crook or crevice, weighing me down just a little more than the day before. Thoughts fill my head, convincing me that I will not make it through another unbearably cold and nasty winter. That I don’t WANT to make it through … And as the day goes on things feel increasingly pointless and the desire to take an extended nap has become quite appealing.
Then evening comes. As it approaches it brings with it an almost unbearable heaviness in my chest and a sick, unsettled feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. The beautiful colors of the late evening sunsets brought such warmth and peace to my heart over the past months. But now, those same vibrant bursts of color stretching across the sky bring tension and panic to my nervous system. Tears burn my eyes as I reach to turn on the lights inside my house and I angrily brush them away. No!! Not this. Not now. There must be NO tears. My stomach twists, tightening every organ on its way up to my throat, threatening to bring vomit. I swallow, gag, and swallow some more, wishing everything that I’m feeling would just go back down to wherever the hell it came from.
And so it begins. I fear what the upcoming weeks and months have in store for me. For now, the only thing I can think to do is to pull on a hoodie, slip my feet into a pair of fuzzy socks, and give myself permission to feel hugged by their warmth. I will light a couple of candles, take a few slow deep breaths and curl up on the couch next to my husband and fur babies. And as I try to draw whatever comfort I can from their presence I will remind myself that in this moment I am OK. I won’t think about next week or next month or Halloween or Christmas. Because right now, none of that matters. This is the only moment that counts and in this very moment, I am OK.
A lot of us have been close to the point of not being here today. And if you’re reading this right now, I just want to say that you have more strength than you realize. Not everyone who woke up yesterday were here to wake up today. Surviving myself has been one of the biggest battles I’ve ever faced.
The fact that you are st;ll here is an incredible accomplishment and I want to be the one to tell you that I am so freakin proud of you!
Identifying how I’m feeling has always been difficult for me. Although I must admit, I have come a long way in that area in recent years. In the past if you had asked me at any given point how I was feeling I wouldn’t have been able to answer you. I lacked not only the vocabulary necessary to describe the feelings but also the introspection. I had no concept whatsoever of emotions, what they were, or how they felt. I also had no idea that emotions also come with bodily sensations and could actually be felt in the body.
I have a much better understanding these days of feelings, though it’s not something that comes naturally. My first response to how I’m feeling is still the usual “I don’t know”, but I am learning how to pause and go inward. I take a moment to investigate and I can usually come up with something that somewhat describes my current emotional state.
Something else I also struggle with is identifying emotions and facial expressions in other people. I misinterpret a lot and it has led to many misunderstandings. I get insecure about not being able to pick up on emotions in other people so I observe, and I use what I see to figure out what the other person is feeling. The problem with that is that more often than not, I’m wrong. That slight shift in a facial expression does not always mean what I think it does. A raised eyebrow may make me think that the other person disapproves of something I said but that might not be the case at all. The other person may in fact be impressed, surprised, or even intrigued by what I had said.
For a long time I didn’t even know I struggled with emotions. I just thought I didn’t have very many. I’m almost always “OK” if you were to ask. It seems like that’s all I ever knew how to be. I couldn’t identify sadness, joy, excitement, contentment, and certainly not anger. I’ve spent my life so detached from myself that I had no idea these things even existed in me. Growing up I experienced a lot of unwanted emotions and as I got older they seemed to have just flattened out. I stopped feeling the varying intensities and the window of what I could actually feel grew extremely small.
So here I am, at the age of 42, realizing that I don’t know what it actually means to feel a certain way. And I have a very low tolerance for anything that takes me away from “OK”. Sitting with a feeling is a fairly new concept in my world and it’s turning out to be one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever experienced. My system jumps into high alert whenever I sense any sort of emotion inside of me. Whether my heart rate begins to speed up from excitement, fear, anticipation, lust, pain, joy, or whatever else may come up, my brain reacts in a way that propels me towards behaviors that shut it all down. I am working on this though.
A few weeks ago my therapist used the word alexithymia to describe one’s inability to identify and describe emotions. It is a word I had never heard before. I had no idea that my difficulties with emotions were something that other people out there experience as well. I thought it was just another thing I was bad at. One more thing on my never-ending list of character flaws. Something else that other people do with zero effort but requires so much work on my part. Another complexity. Another failure. Another fault.
But I’m beginning to realize that’s not the case at all! Alexithymia is a real thing that is not a character flaw! It’s not because I’m too stupid to understand emotions. It’s not because I’m an air-head, or that I’m dumb, or careless. It’s not because I’m a cold-blooded person who has no heart. It’s something that’s actually more common than I realized. So much so that it has warranted a label of its own.
So I just want to say that if you’re reading this and you find yourself relating to my experience in any way, I encourage you to do a little reading about alexithymia. It might very well help you understand why you feel (or don’t feel) the way that you do. There are a few websites in particular that I found really great at explaining it. I don’t usually post outside links here but if you are interested, feel free to ask and I will gladly share. It could open up a door to a completely new way of seeing things! Please be gentle with yourselves today. You all deserve it!
Would you consider getting a sun burn as self harm?
Countless ppl get burnt by the sun every day, many of them on purpose. Ppl spend time in direct sunlight for the sole reason to burn their skin, correct? But they don’t get confronted about causing self harm …
This sparked a very heated conversation between David and me yesterday. He said he feels like what I did was self-harm (I intentionally got burnt).
My mental health has been on a steady decline for a couple of months now. There’s been a lot that’s happened, in succession, and the stress of it all has been accumulating. Trying to manage both physical and mental illnesses why all this life stuff has been coming at me was too much and I crashed. As a result, every area of my life is now suffering.
A little over 2 weeks ago something inside of me just cracked and I attempted to end my life. In a moment of desperation, needing the mental anguish to just stop, I chose what I thought would be the solution.
After spending the past 2 weeks in the hospital, in the Intensive Care Unit, here I am sitting in the car with my husband, as we travel to his parents’ place for a 60th birthday celebration (tomorrow). I was discharged yesterday, after being cleared as well enough to leave. I feel a million miles away right now. Certainly not in the frame of mind for a party. I really don’t want to be around people.
Can I just say one more thing?
Our health care system here in Newfoundland, Canada is … I’m biting my tongue here because every word coming to mind could get me banned from WordPress … so I’m just going to say … it SUCKS.
It’s sad. Based on my own experiences my heart aches for those needing services. If it happened to me then I’m sure it’s happening to countless others.
In my opinion, if someone almost successfully takes their life and then sits in front of you and says they are not able to function because they are so mentally unwell, I don’t this it’s even sensible to suggest they develop a better sleep routine and that you’ll chat with them in 6 to 8 weeks.
Even the word is evocative And provocative Charged with such emotion and energy. Memories and thoughts of what was and what could have been had I succeeded, had I been successful.
A ‘Successful’ Suicide What an oxymoron! A failed attempt and all it leaves Behind; Surrounded by despair That is now also dressed in anger.
The feelings of failure ‘I can’t even kill myself properly’ Let me die. Please God Let me go ……. This hurts so much.
Judgement Where tenderness is most needed Coldness Where warmth and compassion are ached for
Their absence proof that staying is futile Painful Pointless!
I want a heart that can hear Without defensive fear Impatience and dismissal Without accusations of selfishness And attention seeking Smirks and sneers That cut deeply into my already fragmented self
Bring me a cup of tea Sit with me Don’t look away! Show me tenderness Truthfulness Rawness Be real
I’ve no interest in talks of helplessness And hopelessness And ideation And intention And plans And triggers
I need humanity Not science Not medical jargon
Hold my hand Connect with me Allow me to grieve my past self Allow me to see myself through your eyes; Help me see hope in you. Give me some time and I will do the same for you.
You did not come this far for nothing. I promise you. And deep inside your heart, you know it too.
Yet all the setbacks and all the obstacles and all the dark paths you have faced along the way make you question if you have truly made any progress at all.
Do you remember at the beginning when you could barely see the next moment? Now look at you.
You have grown. And taken chances. And fallen. And gotten back up.
And i think that if you were to be honest, you would admit that occasionally when the light shines just so onto your bedroom walls, you can see a glimmer of something. Something that wasn’t there before.
A dream, perhaps. Or a heartbeat that rises up from a place you never thought you had. You are not just trying. You are doing this.
And every step forward is a step in the right direction. Keep going darling. You’ve got places to go.
Remember, in order to get there you have to actually be here. So don’t throw in the towel just yet. Just you wait and see. Your sunshine is on its way. It won’t keep raining forever.
I suck at baking. It’s such an exact science, unlike the art of cooking, which is more lenient. Yes, I know there are extremely precise recipes for cooking food. There are also very simple recipes for baking.
Baking is generally exact though. To get the perfect version of a chocolate chip cookie, you must use x amount of baking soda, x amount of butter, x amount of flour, x amount of sugar, x amount of egg yolks/whites etc. But if something doesn’t taste right when cooking, you can add more salt, add some lemon juice, add something that will even the scales. Adding things while baking could cause it to fall apart – literally.
You need to follow the rules when baking. Maybe the reason I usually suck at baking is because I don’t like to follow the rules.
One of the pitfalls of healing childhood trauma, in my opinion, is awareness.
Let me explain.
When you are at a point in your life where your history of trauma is affecting you on a daily basis you decide to enter some sort of journey towards healing. This may take on many different forms. It may involve finding a trauma specialist and entering some hard core trauma therapy. You may start seeing a therapist for some general therapy to help you figure things out. Or maybe you dive into it from a self help perspective. Whatever you choose, you just know that your past trauma is wreaking havoc on your present life.
So you’re on a new journey. You have information at your fingertips. So you do a deep dive into whatever you can get your hands on. If it relates to trauma then you are interested. Maybe you will find the very thing that will fix all your problems. So you read websites and books and articles. You watch YouTube videos and listen to podcasts. You want all the information that you can find.
In your search for answers you have several breakthrough moments where you realize why things are the way they are in your own life. You learn things. You fill your mind with all kinds of professional jargon. You read all about trauma recovery and the various steps it involves.
Ta da! You’re all fixed! You know all there is to know. You’ve taught yourself all about it. You’ve had your ah-ha moments and you have it all figured out!
There’s the pitfall. You consider your new knowledge and awareness to be exactly what you needed. Sound anything like you?
Yeah, me too.
Unfortunately awareness doesn’t change anything about your actual situation. You may now know why things are the way they are. You may understand more about your diagnosis of cPTSD. You may even think you don’t need therapy after all. You’ve figured it out!
Except, your life continues to unravel and you feel more lost now than you ever were before. Its because you’ve mistakenly thought that awareness was the answer. I did too.
Healing requires so much more than education and awareness. It requires action. Change.
Her Complex Musings 
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