There have been many moments lately where I have hidden in my bathroom because life has become too heavy to bear. I wonder if I will ever get the chance to just be myself again. Everything has gotten so complicated lately.
The things that are necessary to be happy are currently not present. I am exhausted, in more ways than one. But I’m still getting up and crawling my way through each day.
Sometimes I squeeze my eyes shut and block everything out to remind myself that I’m human and to breathe. I am trying to teach myself that it’s ok to take a break.
It’s also ok to indulge yourself with whatever sliver of happiness you can find that will help strengthen and recharge you. Whether you make a cup of your favorite tea and sit by the Christmas tree as you drink it, go for a walk, or throw a ball around in the backyard with your dog. If it satisfies even the smallest part of you, it’s worth the effort.
December is a hard month for a lot of ppl. Myself included. Its going to be very easy to get swept up and completely lose ourselves over the next few weeks. So from one struggling human to another …
You can do this. WE can do this! Take a breath. Then another. Drink some water and get some sleep. Then do the next thing. We will make it through December!
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!
My head feels unnaturally heavy. It takes effort to just hold my head up straight. Letting it rest against the back of my chair while I rock brings relief. I feel like I’m stuck inside a cloud of thick fog. Going to different rooms in my house, walking on the beach, out in my garden, even to the shower, it follows me.
Things sound different. Far away. I often need David to repeat himself because I didn’t hear what he said. Music doesn’t sound right unless I’m wearing my earbuds, which I’ve been doing a lot of. Having the loud music playing directly in my ears helps drown out the constant dialog.
The level of pain in my body this evening cannot be described. I just don’t have the words. I feel as if all I can do is sit here and keep reminding myself to breathe.
A recent comment left on a previous post has had me thinking about my emotions.
It needs to come out sometimes. It’s just that I have such a hard time expressing strong emotions. Well, pretty much ANY emotion really, no matter its strength. ESPECIALLY in the presence of another person. I’m so afraid of making the other person uncomfortable that when strong emotions start to surface it’s like I start to just shut down.
But occasionally, like what happened during the recent Ketamine infusion part of my pain treatment, it’s like the emotion just erupts from depths I never knew existed inside of me. Most often it’s a sense of soul-crushing grief.
I envy ppl who are emotional. Actually, it’s the expression of emotions that I envy. Because I have all the same emotions. I just have trouble expressing them. I have an amazing poker face it seems. An impassive expression on my face could easily be what gut-wrenching pain looks like on me that day.
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.
Loving someone long term means you get to attend a thousand funerals, for the ppl they used to be.
Ppl are constantly changing. We become exhausted being ourselves so we change. Our opinions, our routines, our hair color, our style, our attitudes, our likes and dislikes … always changing, always evolving. Who you are in this very moment is different than who you were 3 months ago.
We regularly grow out of ourselves. Our spark dies out. And when we see it happening to our loved ones we grieve for them. We miss who they used to be. We long for the parts that made us fall in love with them in the first place. Sometimes the new version is even better than before. While other times we struggle to hold on to whatever we can from the past version because this newly invented person standing before us has no resemblance whatsoever to the one we held so much respect for.
Hundreds of funerals are to be had for one single person. Sparks die, over and over again. It’s up to us to travel alongside our loved ones as they go from each version and to honor what emerges along the way. Sometimes it will be an even brighter flame than before. While other times it will be a mere flicker that temporarily floods the room with a necessary darkness.
I’ve been learning a lot about relationships in recent weeks and have been experiencing a deep sense of grief. I miss the man my husband was when we first met. I miss the man I married 13 years ago. My heart aches for the past versions of him that are no longer alive. But as I grieve for that which is no more, I feel a slight jarring in my soul as I realize …
Maybe this is an opportunity to fall in love all over again.
I am reluctant, I admit. But am also holding on for dear life, too afraid of the unknown to let him go. I need him. I don’t want to be alone. It’s selfish of me, I know. Even though he hurt me in the worst possible way I still don’t want to let go.
Reading is so friggin frustrating. Books used to be my escape. Growing up I was an avid reader. I never went anywhere w/o a book and I usually had more than one going at a time. There’d be one in my bedroom that I’d be reading, I’d have another that I’d carry around with me and I’d read a few pages whenever I had a few minutes to spare, and then I’d have a 3rd that I would read at night in the bath. I’d soak in a hot bubble bath and read until the water went cold. When I was in high school that’s how I’d also do my studying for exams. And I’d have no trouble whatsoever keeping the storylines straight when switching between books.
Now I can’t even keep focused on one and I hate that. I’d give anything to be able to pick up a book and read like that again.
I love books. The smell of the paper when you open a book for the first time. Mmmm. One of the best smells ever! But reading is super frustrating. It could be a book or an article online. Blog posts. Anything really. Unless it’s something I am extremely interested in. Then I can soak up every single word. But generally, reading is a real challenge.
I will read the page, but after I get to the bottom of that page I realize that I was thinking about something else and didn’t really read the page even though I was reading. I know, sounds stupid.
So, I read it again. I read a few sentences and by the time I get to the bottom of the page … same friggin thing. So I read it over again … concentrating this time. But I get distracted by the fact that I am concentrating …
By this point, I have read, and absorbed maybe half of the page. This is no exaggeration. In fact, this is more of a watered-down version of actual events.
Like seriously. Something so simple as reading a book is such a frustrating thing for me. I have a shelf, lined with books waiting to be read and all I can do is avoid them.
They merely serve as a reminder of yet another thing that is extra difficult for me.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
My middle name is Danielle, which is the name I mostly go by.
It’s strange, how some parents give their kids multiple names, but choose to put the name they want to acknowledge the child by as a middle name. It has created some interesting situations for me throughout my life.
All legal documents have to use the name given on your birth certificate. Mine is Bridget Danielle. From the time I entered this world my family acknowledged me as Danielle. People who meet me get to know me as Danielle. Growing up I didn’t hear Bridget used at all.
In my teens I thought it would be cool to have a second version of myself so some people started referring to me as Bridget. Depending on who I was with or where I was, my name got switched back and forth.
And to this day both names are used. Close friends and family know me as Danielle, my middle name. If I am dealing with a doctor or specialist at the hospital I’m known as Bridget. At the pharmacy I am Bridget. At the bank I am Bridget. At home I’m called Danielle. At church I’m Danielle. On social media I am usually Danielle.
It all came to be this way when my mom found out I was going to be a girl. Mom was a teen still living with her parents when I was unexpectedly conceived. At the same time my grandparents had just been through an ordeal of their own with another child. They had been in the process of adopting a little girl named Bridget and they were near the end stages of the adoption process when the biological mother changed her mind. My grandparents were devastated. They were so set on being the parents of little Bridget. Everything was ready for them to bring her home. To them, it felt like they had lost their child. Just as if she had died.
Then my mom learns that she is having a little baby girl and my grandparents immediately wanted to name me Bridget. They were set on having a little Bridget in their lives. Mom on the other hand, wasn’t on board with this. She had her heart set on naming me Danielle, after the author she had been obsessed with at the time. You may be familiar with her … Danielle Steele. That’s where my middle name originated from.
Anyways my mother made a compromise. To make everyone happy I was named Bridget Danielle. My grandparents got their little Bridget and my mom got her little Danielle.
And I grew up confused, never knowing from one day to the next who I was supposed to be lol
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.
My mind is constantly shifting, switching from one thought to the next, one memory to the next, one daydream to the next. I admire ppl who can focus on one task at a time and are able to lead productive lives.
I’ve been so frustrated lately with my inability to focus. I find my mind growing full of ideas for blog post topics. I wanted to make writing a central activity in my daily life once Christmas had settled down. I intended to turn writing into a therapeutic practice as well as a hobby. I love writing but I usually lack the motivation. So I decided to put my focus into growing this blog.
The only problem is that I’ve gone from unmotivated and lacking direction to becoming almost borderline obsessed with collecting ideas. I find myself super aware of things around me, even more than usual, as I search for things I can write about that would bring growth and add depth to this site.
See the thing is … while I haven’t been officially diagnosed with ADHD, I have undergone some testing and it has revealed that I do fall on the spectrum. The problem though is that the psychiatrist who I’ve been with is not at all open to the possibility of a new diagnosis. Despite having official testing done by a well respected psychologist, who did multiple different types of clinical tests to see where I am with regard to current diagnosis and other potential diagnostic possibilities … and even though she presented the findings in a written report to the psychiatrist, he was still unwilling to even consider the possibility of a new diagnosis.
Now in saying that, a diagnosis is merely another label. While it has added to the confusion I have about my identity as an individual, having a diagnosis that is agreed on by all the professionals is not completely necessary. It would certainly help me a great deal, that’s for sure! But I already KNOW I have a big problem with distraction. And focusing on one thing at a time is really difficult for me. I don’t need a diagnosis of something to know that.
But you know, I don’t think its a lack of attention that’s my problem. Quite the opposite actually. I feel like I have too much attention. I notice more than my brain is able to fully process at one time. I’m frequently distracted, yes. But not because I can’t pay attention. Its because I’m paying attention to everything. It seems like I hear more and see more and just notice more in general, than other ppl do. And that makes it super hard to fully focus on any one specific thing since I’m being distracted by all the other things that are coming at me at any given time. I have more attention than I know what to do with.
I have no idea if that makes any sense to you who is reading this because I’m trying to make … oh look! Squirrel!!
Oops. Sorry about that. So um, yeah. Where was I? Oh yes. So, I’m trying to make sense out of all of this myself to be quite honest. But if you agree/disagree or even relate in any way, feel free to leave a comment below and share your own thoughts about this topic! I’d love to hear what you have to say about this!
Her Complex Musings 
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