Tag: healing

The Tattoo Flu

A Girl In A Complex World

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a very ‘complex’ person (eye roll). And that neither my mind nor body functions as it should, and can be very unpredictable. So there’s not really a lot that really surprises me anymore. But like, seriously. Get this … I’ve been sick with what my tattoo artist is calling the ‘Tattoo Flu’. Have you ever heard of this?!



I got my 8th tattoo last week. I have never had any complications from any of them. Have never needed pain meds or even much aftercare because they all healed without any issues. I must also add that earlier this year I had one done on the left side of my chest, which is a part of my body that was seriously injured in a car accident (my left arm was amputated). No major issues with that tattoo. Minimal bleeding, swelling, and redness. No bruising. I went through the session with no problem.

But this time … Oh. My. Goodness!!

Within the first 30 minutes I started shivering, and it didn’t stop. 4 hrs later at home, I was still trembling. I threw up about an hour in. He gave me a break, had me eat candy, and asked if I wanted to stop and finish the rest another day. I told him to keep going.

I must admit though, the reason I didn’t want to stop was mainly because of pride. Because, you see, I am tough! I can handle a lot of pain. I’m a badass, with tattoos! A few needle pokes got nothing on this girl! I’ve been through much worse. So no, I’m not quitting!

Anyways, I was under the needle for 2 hrs. I was booked for additional touch-ups on 2 older tattoos but at the 2 hr mark, he completed my chest piece and told me he wasn’t going to continue. He said “I think you might be getting what we call the Tattoo Flu … you’re going into shock.”

Me being me, how did I respond? “Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m fine! It’s all good!”
I told him that if I could go outside for a few minutes then I’ll be good to go again. But he refused, said it would be dangerous to keep going, and added that I was a sucker for punishment. I was pissed. (I think the fact that my body was reacting this way made me want to keep going even more. Not sure what exactly I was trying to prove ….)

I appreciated his looking out for me and it gained my respect, for being a good responsible artist. But that doesn’t mean I liked the decision!



It’s been 5 days and I’ve been feeling like shit. Leading up to this I wasn’t feeling the greatest to begin with. There’s been a lot of additional stress lately and I think it’s affecting my health a bit. I guess I’ve just been feeling a little burnt out. But still!! I did not expect this. I made sure I got some sleep the night before and I even had breakfast and some water before going to the appointment. But man, this stuff is real!!

So the tattoo flu is caused by an immune system response. When the skin is punctured by needles, the body reacts to the trauma and treats the ink like a foreign substance. So the immune system works to heal the skin and fight off the perceived threat. This response is what causes the flu-like symptoms as it tries to recover and protect itself.

I’ve had chills. Every part of my body has been aching. I’ve been nauseous and dizzy and even more exhausted than usual. Did I mention the swelling and bruising?! I’ve never had bruising from a tattoo before but it’s as if I’ve been beaten with a baseball bat this time!

The tattoo flu could last up to a week. Thankfully I am feeling a bit better today. Its usually only seen it in ppl getting really large pieces done in one sitting. I began showing signs after 30 minutes. Also, low blood sugar is common when the body is under stress, which is why the artist had a stash of lollipops. I didn’t know that a tattoo could cause uour blood sugar to drop!

I was given some great advice, which I will definitely take, to hopefully prevent the tattoo flu if (when) I get another one. It basically all comes down to self-care!

🦋 Have lots of carbs, sugar, and hydration in my system before a session. Drink a couple of bottles of Gatorade the day before (and during) the session.

🦋 Get a good night’s sleep the night before. And afterward, relax and be gentle with yourself because your body just went through a trauma.

🦋 Leading up to the session, don’t do anything super activating. Being calm at the beginning will help make the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash less intense. A lot of tension in the body before the tattooing process begins could actually cause an immune response to occur, that might otherwise not have happened had there not been so much stored stress.

Have Mercy

A Girl In A Complex World

You’re gonna need to help me out today, God.

If anyone in my life needs encouragement today, it can’t come from me because I am in need of the same thing. I just can’t blow sunshine up anyone’s ass today, Lord, so I ask that you send them whatever it is that they need, please.

If it is possible, can you also please remind me that millions of other human beings through history have lived through worse situations than me and still managed to make art, and find joy, and give hope and resist despair? Could you do that for me today?

In fact, send us all a little reminder that we can suffer and still be ok. May our faith be stronger than our fear.

And help us remember to drink some water. My body really needs some hydration.

In other words, have mercy on us.

Amen

Be Gentle

A Girl In A Complex World

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.

Be gentle.

Hope Strengthens, Fear Kills

A Girl In A Complex World

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.

And dammit, I deserve it!

Rest, Restore & Repair

A Girl In A Complex World
Buddy & Me

Some days you just gotta give in. Self-care today has consisted of a whole lot of nothing. No make up. No hair styling. An old pair of ripped jeans. (Which we all know are the best anyway) And an old baggy sweater. I’ve had slippers on over my fuzzy socks and a blanket has been kept within reach.

I am both mentally and physically exhausted. It’s day 4 or 5 of this recent CRPS flare. I’ve lost track, as the days and nights have kinda blended into one another. Chronic pain can be brutal on any level. But these flare-ups of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome push things to a whole different level.

My body can’t regulate it’s temperature. I go from shivering to sweating and back again in the blink of an eye. Even a light sensation of something against my legs or feet feels like razor blades slicing through my skin. I feel like my upper body is currently wrapped tightly in barbed wire with electricity shooting through it.

Up until last night, I have been pushing through, not letting the pain slow me down. But while picking up dog toys around the house before bed, nausea swept over me and the vomiting started. It was a long night of trying to lay still and keep my breath regulated because each time I moved I’d throw up.

So today, I was forced to prioritize rest. Maybe I should have done this before. But I guess in the back of my mind I just feel that by resting, I’m letting the pain win. I keep hoping that it will all be OK and will go away again in a day or 2. Except I should know by now that these flares never go away that quickly.

Rest is hard for me. Especially during the daytime. But I have to say that I actually enjoyed having this down time today. My boy was by my side (and my head!) all day. There’s such a profound level of comfort that comes with having a dog next to me. It puts my entire self at ease when I feel the warmth from their body against mine.

I ate without putting too much focus on good vs. bad food. I treated myself to some diet pop and chewed bubble gum like there was no tomorrow. Netflix took a chunk of my afternoon once I got caught up in a series called Cobra Kai and while I did do laundry, it still sits in the basket waiting to be folded. But hey, at least it’s clean!

Days like this require a lot of self-talk. Constantly needing to tell myself that it’s perfectly OK for me to rest, that it doesn’t mean I’m a fat, lazy, slob. Maybe this wasn’t actually an unproductive day. But rather a day where repair took place. Maybe even a little healing and restoration. Because my pain level has dropped from an 8 this morning to about a 4 or 5 here now at 9pm. So I must have done something right!

Buddy & Me

Salt Water Is A Powerful Thing

A Girl In A Complex World

I had such a lovely day on Thursday and I slept a solid 6 hours, in bed, the night before. It has been ages since that has happened! I’ve been feeling bad about having such a limited supply of energy lately and not having the motivation to go out and do things. As a wife and a dog mom, as a human in general, I have been failing miserably. I haven’t been able to engage much because the majority of my mental energy is being spent on keeping myself alive.

So I reached out to my Aunt, who lives on the other side of the bay, and asked if they were going to be home and if it would be OK for us to go over to take the dogs out swimming. The beach has been gross here lately, full of green algae, and definitely not an ideal place for Zoey to be in the water. So I packed up a bag with a few towels, 3 bottles of water (one for each dog and David) and a bowl for them to drink from, sunscreen and off we went.

Zoey

Zoey’s excitement as we were walking down to the beach brought tears to my eyes. Buddy loves the beach but hates the water. He refuses to even get his paws wet. He’d rather explore, especially with all the different smells in an unfamiliar place. Zoey ran ahead and straight out in the water, jumping over the small waves as they came towards her. It felt like my heart was going to burst. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

The temperature was perfect. Not too hot, with a slight breeze. And there was literally only one small cloud in the sky. It was the perfect shade of blue as far as the eye could see. I tried my best to take everything in and notice whatever I could, using all of my senses, because these moments don’t happen very often and I really wanted to remember this. I chose that particular location because of the sand. A lot of the beaches here in Newfoundland tend to be a bit rocky, making it difficult to walk with my balance issues, but this area was lovely.

Buddy

Zoey splashed along the shoreline in the water. Buddy zigzagged around us with his nose to the ground, taking in whatever scent he could. And being a beagle, a breed known for their hunting capabilities, he was in doggy heaven. And David and I walked for a while, holding hands, engaging in some random small talk.

Then he looks at me and says, “You should put your feet in the water. It’s not cold at all.” I looked at him and laughed. I was wearing jeans. “I’m not getting wet,” I said. David had shorts on and flip flops and had already walked in the water a little, getting his feet wet. “Just roll up your jeans. You’re wearing sandals anyway. Its ok if they get wet. They won’t be long drying.” I shook my head and continued walking along the sand.

Zoey (look at that smile!)

We were quiet for a while but I kept thinking about what he’d said. Lots of ppl love putting their feet in water. In movies I see ppl sit on the edge of pools or on the side of wharves, dangling their feet over the side. I’ve watched countless ppl walk along the shoreline, with the water covering their feet. It’s a normal thing lots of ppl do. So why does it seem like such an absurd thing for me? Why is it something I’m not allowed to do? What makes it so scary? Why does the thought of me doing something that others consider ‘fun’ fill me with so much discomfort in my body?

I had no answers and that bothered me. And I had no valid reason to not allow myself to walk in the water. All I knew was that I felt scared. The shame spiral began and my inner critic let loose, telling me how useless I was. Saying I was stupid and childish and a waste of space.

But I surprised myself this time. “Stop,” I said. Somehow I had found my voice and it took me a second to realize that I had said it out loud. It had been directed at the spiraling thoughts in my head but David stopped walking. I hesitated then bent down and began rolling up the leg of my jeans.

David’s flip flops

I don’t have the words to adequately describe how it felt to walk out in that water but I hope I never forget it. It’s like all of my problems just disappeared for a little while and I felt connected to something much greater. I smiled. I laughed. And at one point I even cried because I was so overwhelmed with something that felt good. I can’t label different emotions very well, other than it being either good or bad. But this felt absolutely incredible!

And Zoey … oh my goodness. It’s bringing tears to my eyes here now just writing about it. When she realized that I was in the water her excitement was almost too much for her to contain and she got the ‘puppy zoomies’. She ran circles around us, in and out of the water, jumping over the waves, then Buddy started chasing her around on the beach, and they were barking, and David and I just stood there laughing. Like, it was absolute pure joy surrounding all 4 of us and I don’t remember the last time I felt something like that.

Zoey

They say that salt water can cure almost anything. And I believe it. I’ve used salt water many times over the years to help promote healing in various physical ailments. But this was on a whole different level. The salt water may have only covered the lower part of my legs and feet but it felt like healing took place somewhere deep within my soul. It’s like, deep down inside, all of the broken and shattered parts of me felt … loved. I don’t know any other way to describe it.

And the little drops of salty water that fell from my eyes when I looked to the sky were my heart’s way of saying Thank You. Because it was as if God himself had wrapped His arms around me and said, ‘I got you’.

Myself and David

Yes, Thursday was a good day.

Warrior In The Making

A Girl In A Complex World

You are a warrior!

You’re not crazy. It has all been real, and it stretched you, and at times, it has felt as if it would even kill you.
Their words broke your heart.
Their actions broke your trust.
That injury broke your body.
That illness broke your hope.
That circumstance broke your spirit.
BUT GOD…
He came to overcome it all.
And guess what?
It never broke you!
It challenged you, and it LOST!

You’re still here. You’re not “just” a survivor. You’re a fighter. You’re a warrior. And yes, you may be covered in scars, but they are scars of deaths defeat! Your scars have become a memoir of your  journey, and they tell ONLY a story of triumph!

You see, they don’t see you the same way anymore, because a warrior was birthed from the destruction and fires in your life! What was meant to kill you, didn’t and while some keep judging you for starting over, others are clapping because you never quit! You went into the flames covered in life’s grit, but came out of the fire polished in Gods grace!

The abuse, the pain, the anxiety, the bullying, the fear, the anguish, the doubt, the worry, the crushing, the pulling, the words, the moments, the days and the years – were real, but so was your strength and resilience. You did it. You survived everything they said you wouldn’t! You are still standing, and you are a WARRIOR!

Yearning For Safety

A Girl In A Complex World

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.

Yet … that still, small voice whispers, hold on. 

Awareness Isn’t Enough

A Girl In A Complex World

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.

Building A Safe Relationship

A Girl In A Complex World

Gently talking to ourselves with love and respect is hard. Especially when we’ve been conditioned to talk like its someone we hate.

The healing journey is all about rebuilding – or maybe its about building for the first time – a safe relationship with ourselves.

Spoiler alert: it takes a minute and its really awkward. 100% worth it tho!

Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle

Taken Off Guard By Grief

A Girl In A Complex World

Sometimes all I want is a little comfort. Just a tiny sliver of it for a few short moments and I would be grateful. Because the ache of missing someone is just so incredibly intense. I didn’t want to get out of bed today. In fact I haven’t wanted to physically move at all. I did manage to move myself from my bed to the patio outside, where I curled up on the bench and spent hours just staring up at the sky. The sun was perfection. The temperature was perfection. The occasional perfect breeze blew across my face, just enough to remind me to take another breath. Secretly though, I wanted nothing more than to stop. Breathing I mean. To stop … existing.

The thoughts and feelings are haunting me every single minute that I’m awake. Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to fake a smile, because the emotions are way too close to the surface and it feels like the tears are about to slip out at any minute …

But no, thanks. I have managed to come this far today. I’ve made it past 5:30. So I just want to eat some hot soup. Or maybe I can manage some toast instead. But please, please don’t make me go anywhere. I’m just so tired. I know this feeling is temporary and that it will pass, just like the rain that was falling out here last night.

It’s just that sometimes that old familiar longing to have you alive, back here on earth and back in my life again takes me off guard because nothing can ever replace a friend once suicide takes her away. 💔