Well, the comfort I was receiving from the hot water bottle was wonderful. Except, it was short-lived. Through no fault of its own though! That hot water bottle was / STILL IS an incredible tool in my Skills Box.
A lot has happened lately. Maybe a slight percentage has been a genuine response to trauma and/or illness, and not something I had complete control over …. but when you choose to do something, YOU are the reason it happens. So whatever happens is your fault, isn’t it?
I’ve put my body through absolute torture these past 2 weeks and its going to take a while to settle from it all. Unless you deal with it on your own personal level, absolutely no one will ever comprehend what its like to live with a brain that wants me dead.
I can’t help but feel a little jealous … I’m actually more than a little jealous, but I digress … of the ppl I hear and read about who also deal with depression, PTSD, eating disorders, BPD, dissociation, and so on who have found ways to still live productive lives and can maintain a level of stability that is acceptable in other ppl’s eyes. I’ve been dealing with this stuff for several decades … and I have yet to discover what ‘stable’ looks and feels like.
I don’t get angry very often but right now I feel absolutely PISSED – at everyone and everything. All I want is to be able to eat, drink, sleep, and socialize with other ppl the way other stable, functional human beings do every single day. It really isn’t that much to ask, is it?
I want to live … and experience things outside of survival. That’s all I want. I’ve totally got the survival part figured out. Now, I just want to live.
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.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of safety. It came up in a therapy session a few weeks ago and I’ve come to realize that I don’t know how to recognize what safety ‘feels’ like.
I know that I’m almost always on guard. I don’t know if it’s fear, anxiety, or nervousness, or what it is, that I’m usually feeling but I certainly don’t think it’s safety. It also seems like there are lots of situations where I FEEL like I’m in danger but the facts state otherwise. How does one bridge the gap between real and perceived danger? I am not living in a dangerous environment by any means but it’s like my body thinks I am.
It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be in a state of hyperarousal most of the time. And exhausting. Lately, it seems like I’ve been having an overwhelming amount of trauma surfacing, especially on a somatic level, but I have very little capacity to create any sense of safety in the midst of it. It’s wreaking havoc on so many levels. I wish there any way that I could somehow learn how to feel safe.
I feel so stupid saying that. To admit that I don’t know what ‘safe’ feels like seems so ridiculous and it feels awful.
I am not gonna lie; I am not always okay. I will always tell you I’m okay, but sometimes I’m not being completely honest.
Sometimes, I just want to disappear. I want to stop living. Sometimes, I feel like I am not going to be alright. Like everything feels wrong, and I am so sad. I am really good at pretending that I am okay when I’m not.
At night, the darkness haunts me. The pain is trying to suffocate me when I close my eyes. I am just so lost right now. My smiles are fake and I feel like such a fraud. I’ve been wondering what went wrong. Why is this happening? Why am I so unhappy? Why do I feel so tired whenever I wake up?
I am so sick of this. I keep thinking that maybe someday I am going to heal. Maybe I will eventually feel whole, as opposed to broken. I will experience what its like to be happy and content. I crave wellness …
but I just can’t reach it. I don’t think its ever going to happen for me. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be sad over and over again.
I’m tired of reaching for something I want so bad but never being able to grab 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.
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. 🌻
I sweep the shower curtain aside. A few water droplets fall from my hair before gliding down over my bare chest. My skin is bright red from the hot water. Steam rolls out through the window that was slightly ajar. It’s been a busy weekend, but it’s over now and we’re back home again.
It’s mid afternoon and David is in lying down, trying to catch a nap before he heads in to work tonight. Last night was a late one for us. Being the designated driver David spent the early hours of the morning taking ppl home. It was almost 4am when our heads finally touched the pillow. 5 hours later we were back in the car again. Thank God we are home. So while he rests, with the dogs curled up beside him, I go off to shower and calm myself down. In my own shower. In my own bathroom. In my own house. Safety.
The scalding water distracted me from the thoughts that had been swirling around in my mind. The tension that was trapped in my body that had been brought on by so much overstimulation, washed off me freely, mixed with the coconut body wash.
But the second I stepped out and my foot touched the towel that was on the floor, something didn’t feel right. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Goosebumps covered my arm and legs. The frantic beating of my heart became confused with memories of someone pounding on the door. Oh my god … there was someone else in the house.
Fear wound itself around me at the thought and circulated within my mind until it flooded my entire body with panic. I pulled the bath towel tighter around me in a lame attempt to suffocate the terror. Then, I reached for the doorknob and my hand lingered there. I couldn’t turn the knob, my mind was bombarded with images of who could be waiting for me on the other side of the door.
I pulled my hand away from the door, my lungs …too paralyzed to breathe. My shoulders trembled as I held back the cry that was threatening to escape from my throat. I forced my hand over my mouth to block it. Backing up, I felt the bench on the back of my legs and I let myself fall onto the seat. What the heck is wrong with me??!
I reached for my phone on the sink next to me. Placing my thumb on the screen it recognized my fingerprint and unlocked itself. I instantly searched for David’s name and opened up a new msg window. I knew he was asleep but assumed the sound of his phone receiving a new msg would stir him. ‘Are you awake?’
I stared at the screen, silently pleading for him to pick up his phone, a feeling of something dreadful happening consumed me. No response. I msged him again. ‘I’m really sorry for bothering you. I know you’re tired, my honey. But can you get up for a minute?’
Still no response. I thought of calling instead. The ring is louder than the new msg notifications. But that would mean I would also be required to speak. I couldn’t do that. My voice was currently non-existent.
A sob got stuck in my throat and my body trembled. I felt the sting of tears on my cheeks. Panic was pulsing through my veins. I thought to myself, “This is insane. There is nothing out there. There is no one out there! This is ridiculous. Why am I so scared??” I remembered that I needed to breathe. I have a tendency to hold my breath in moments like this and have been working on becoming more aware of it. I take in a small, shakey breath through my nose. “That was then … this is now. That was then … This is now.“
I repeated the familiar words to myself several times. I stood up from the bench I had been sitting on, and reached for the doorknob again. As my fingers touched it panic surged, threatening to drown out the mantra i had just been repeating to myself. Thatwasthen … this is now. Slowly I turned the knob and opened it ever so slightly. My chest burned from needing to exhale, but the grip of terror was strangling my throat.
I paused, waiting for that looming, dark figure to inch his way into the bathroom … but he didn’t. And suddenly I realized that it had happened again. My brain had forgotten where we were.
It’s 2024 … you’re in your own house … David is here … he’s asleep … you’re here in your own bathroom …
I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. My lungs began to relax and I took a few shakey breaths. I grabbed my robe and pulled it close around my body, letting the towel fall to the floor. Feeling ashamed and broken I left the bathroom and went to our room. I quietly positioned myself on the bed next to David, sound asleep. A few silent tears fell before I cuddled in closer to his back. The warmth of his body against mine reminded me once again …
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.
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!
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.
Her Complex Musings 
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