Inspiration

This week I had the most amazing counseling session.

I really love my counselor.
It had been three weeks since I saw her, due to travel for my grandmother's memorial service, and holidays, and others' schedules.

I was dealing with a lot.
Grief.
Pain.
Frustration.
Anger.
Anxiety.
Life.

As I sat with her, this beautiful woman, and worked on my stuff, I was given a vision of a piece of art, something I MUST make come to life.  Today, 3 days later, it is as fresh as it was sitting in her chair.

The concept is one of allowing the Healer to do His work in me.
It is simple.
It is HARD.
It is a work in progress.

Can't wait to share it.

The Labels I give myself

Often, as a parent, I have fought to keep my children from being limited by their labels.  We think if we can protect them from labels, they will see more of themselves, and be able to do more.

However, for myself, I find that sometimes labels are helpful.  After all, who would want a cabinet full of tin cans with no labels on them?  "Looks like 'surprise dinner' again tonight, kids!  Wonder what's in THIS can?"

I label myself, and often with labels that feel right to me, whether anyone else sees the legitimacy of the label.

I call myself a Believer, a Christian, a follower of Christ.

I call myself a mom.  I guess most people can see that.

I call myself a wife.

I call myself a NAVY wife.

I call myself a counselor.

I call myself by a number of names that at first glance may not seem to fit.

One of those it Third Culture Kid, though I have never lived outside of the contiguous United States.

Another is Orphan, though my parents are still living.

Additionally, I call myself Broken, Wounded, Healing, Healer, Warrior, Misfit, Outsider, Educated, a Reader.

I have fought most of these labels over the years...I have not wanted to label myself.  But like those cans in the cabinet, my labels help me on my path to healing, and help others as they support me on my journey.

What labels do you give yourself?  Are they helpful labels?

What does PTSD look like?

The month of June is PTSD Awareness Month.  PTSD is something most are aware of, on some level, but really don't know what it looks like, fleshed-out, aside from what they seen on TV or in the movies.  I am here to help with a little more personal level of awareness.

This will probably come as a surprise to some people.

I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder a few years ago.

What?  I don't LOOK like I have PTSD?  This begs the question, "What does PTSD ACTUALLY look like?"

I could give you the book-definition (from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition, Text Revision, pg. 463). You can read the actual entry HERE.

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder is:

"the development of characteristic symptoms following exposure to an extreme traumatic stressor involving direct personal experience of an event that involves actual or threatened death or serious injury, or other threat to one's physical integrity; or witnessing an event that involves death, injury, or a threat to the physical integrity of another person; or learning about unexpected or violent death, serious harm, or threat of death or injury experienced by a family member or other close associate." 

The "characteristic symptoms" are what people usually identify as PTSD, though there are symptoms that are invisible, and relatively hidden to most people.

The symptoms listed in the DSM-IV-TR include:
1. Recurrent and intrusive distressing recollections of the event
2. Recurrent distressing dreams of the event (aka, nightmares)
3. Acting or feeling as if the traumatic event were recurring.
4. Intense psychological distress at exposure to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event
5. Physiological reactivity on exposure to internal or external cues.

Also, there can be two or more of each of the following:
1. difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep
2. irritability or outbursts of anger
3. difficulty concentrating
4. hypervigilence
5. exaggerated startle response

There is more...but we'll stop here for now.  When people think of what PTSD "looks like", they often think in terms of #5 under the symptoms - physiological reactivity - the automatic response to stimuli, learned by our bodies over the course of the trauma.

In reality, my diagnosis falls more along the lines of what is commonly known as "Complicated PTSD", mainly because my "traumatic event" took place over the course of at least 18 years, and affects everything I know about myself, and how I view my life, and others.

So, all of the official stuff aside....

Not funny. Created by my mind trying
to make sense of my pain. 

I have nightmares.  Recurring ones.

I have trouble getting to sleep...yes, I am very much a night owl.

For a LONG time, I flinched every time anyone close to me moved fast.

I don't trust.  Anyone.  You're not singled-out for my lack of trust...believe me.  (this makes life SUPER-difficult.) I trust Jason the most...and my lack of trust drives him bonkers some days.

I have a VERY hard time releasing things.  Things are safe.  People are not.

I have a VERY hard time not over-thinking.  Really, I over-think EVERYTHING.

I have a pretty high wall.  Several of them.  If you think you are close to me, chances are that there is another wall you haven't even seen yet.  I don't think my counselor has seen all of them yet.

I am anxious about most things.  I TRY not to be, but the anxiety is there, whether I want it to be, or not.

I have difficulty concentrating...if there is too much noise, if there are too many people, if there is chaos.

I have issues with irritability and anger and can be a BEAR.  I'm sorry.  I don't like it, either.

People and events that remind me of some of my past experiences tend to trigger more anxiety, anger, depression, hypervigilence, and nightmares.

Again, there is more...but I don't want this to all be negative.

I have lived with this diagnosis for a long time before actually knowing what to call it.
It has been my reality as long as I can remember.
It is how I function.
I don't know life apart from this set of symptoms.

Since the point in time when I began to recognize that my reactions were not normal, I have wanted to change them, and have prayed and worked towards that end.  Thankfully, I am not the person I used to be...God has changed a LOT about me...and He is still in that process of growing and changing me.

Several verses have been a comfort to me as I have worked through the repercussions of my PTSD.

2 Timothy 1:7 YLT
"for God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind;" 

Romans 12:2 YLT
"and be not conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, for your proving what is the will of God -- the good, and acceptable, and perfect."

There is HOPE.  God IS transforming my mind with His love, and His Word...I don't have to be stuck in this former way of thinking...I definitely look forward to the transformation being complete!!



*PSA: If you have PTSD, DO NOT google images of nightmares.  DO NOT.

REPOST: May 11, 2011

Originally written May 11, 2011, and titled "A Place to Begin", this was written while Jason was deployed to Bahrain, and I was a full-time student at Regent University.  This post really reflects where I am today.  I have since finished school, and have been in counseling the whole time.  Some days I feel as if I have made no progress whatsoever, and some days I feel as if I have made a lot of progress.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Some days I feel totally disconnected from the world.
I feel like an orphaned child,
Unwanted,
Unloved,
a "whipping boy" in the family where I have been placed.

Some days I feel like the king of the universe.
I feel as if I can take on anything,
do anything,
be anything.

Some days - most days - I feel as if no one cares who I am,
what I feel,
what direction I go.

There are things that I know in my head to be true, which I am afraid I will never feel inside of me.

I KNOW that I am loved.
"I have loved you with an everlasting love..." Jeremiah 31:3
I know that my husband loves me...that I *do* feel, sometimes.
I know that my children love me.

I KNOW that I have potential, promise, possibility.
I KNOW that I am a good mother.
I KNOW that I am a good student.

I do not feel any of those things...except the *rarely* feeling loved.

I doubt myself.
I doubt my abilities.
I beat myself up over things that are not my fault.
I battle the tapes that play in my head on a daily basis....
...those tapes that say I am not enough...
...not good enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, not cheerful enough, not spiritual enough, not industrious enough, not organized enough, not a good enough friend.
I feel like if I only *tried* harder I could be/do enough.

So I battle on.
I am in counseling.
I am in a body of believers, learning and studying, and fellowshipping, and ministering.

This journey I am on is not easy.
I can't just "snap out of it," whatever "it" may be today.
I am learning how my past affects me on a daily basis, and I don't like it.
I am relearning things about how others see me...*VERY* different from how I see myself.
I am trying to give myself grace...room to grow and change, and to stop beating myself up.

Well, THAT was helpful (or NOT).

I have lived in Christian circles ALL of my life.

One of my first outings as a newborn was to go to church.

I went to church, and school, and every single extra-curricular activity with the same people.

For a lot of years every single relationship I had was with someone who claimed to be a Christian.

Most of the advice I received over the years has come from Christian sources.  Word-of-mouth, preachers, Sunday School teachers and school teachers, parents, youth leaders, writers.  All Christians.  Most very STRONG believers.

I have learned a LOT over the years about Christians and advice.

I have learned that Christians LOVE to give advice.  We KNOW we have a corner on the market of TRUTH, and we have to share it...because that is what the Gospel is all about.  We forget that some of the stuff we have heard as truth is just someone's opinion, or that the truth we speak may do more harm than good.

I have learned that we are all good at repeating things we have heard from others.  And that we are not necessarily good at verifying whether what we repeat is good or helpful.   Because of my next point, things that are not true will still be part of how I view myself, even after they have been proven untrue.




I have learned that, whether or not what I have been told is good or helpful, I ALWAYS internalize a message about ME when I hear it.  I internalize "do more", "try harder", "trust more".  I hear that I am not enough.  Not good enough, not strong enough, not trusting enough, that I don't have enough faith.



I have learned that living in a fallen world means that the advice we give, the truths we know, and the care that we try to express to others can all be misinterpreted, misapplied, twisted to mean something that was not meant.

I have learned that even very good people and strong believers can give bad advice.







I am still in the middle of the process of learning how to deal with advice without basing my view of myself on the advice given by other people.  I know that not everyone knows this.  I also know that there are some people's advice that needs to be thrown out with the garbage.  I am learning who to trust, and who to politely listen to and NOT to take their advice to heart.  It is a process, like the rest of my healing journey.  I hope that people are willing to show me the grace that they also hope to receive.

How do I cry?

(and what does this have to do with my lack of feeling connected?!?)

I regularly see a counselor.  In my profession (Clinical Mental Health Counselor), we call it supervision...except that *I* really need this therapy.  I have seen a LOT of therapists over the years.  Good ones, not-so-good ones, and really great ones.  They have all been instrumental in getting me to THIS place in my healing.  I am grateful for the work they have done with me.

My most recent therapist is good for me.  I don't always like her.  I don't always agree with her.  But she is good for me.  She challenges me.  I need that.

This week, we were talking about how I have a VERY hard time connecting with people.  For as long as I can remember, I have felt like people felt more connected to me than any connection I felt for them.  It has been awkward.  It has been lonely.

I have people I consider my friends.  I enjoy spending time with them.  I miss them when we move.  But I have never had a close enough friend who actually came and visited me after we left the area.  I AM still friends with people from high school, and especially friends from college, but again, no one visits.  Really, my family doesn't visit, either.

So, my therapist and I were exploring why that was the case...why DON'T I have friends with whom I feel a deep connection?

She made an observation that originally put me on the defense.  She said that I don't connect with people because I do not interact on an emotional level.  All of my interactions are on an intellectual "head" level.  It is easy.  It is safe.  I won't get hurt.

This realization stings.  I have worked long and hard to NOT been seen as overly emotional.  I remember crying at the drop of a hat.  I remember being so angry that I scared myself (knife-throwing is not just a circus-trick!).  I was told I was a cry-baby, and to stop being such a stereo-typical hysterical female.  I was told that my crying was an attempt at emotional blackmail and manipulation.  My opinions, hurts, and frustrations were dismissed because I cried when I felt things deeply.

So, I quit crying.  For a LONG time.  It was not healthy.  It was lonely, and it was hard.

Then I started my healing journey, and allowed myself to cry again.  And THAT was really REALLY helpful in the healing process.  And I cried a LOT.

But life (God!) has a way of cycling us back through things, so that we can learn lessons from our repeated experiences.  And when Jason deployed in 2010/2011, my tears became depleted.  Besides, I had to be strong for my kids.  And then Jason was home, and was a pastor, and I had to be strong and "on" for the people in our church.  And more hard things assaulted us, and I still had to be strong.  So, I was right back to suppressing the tears.

So this brings us to NOW.  Life is still hard, and I still need to be strong.  And the tears that I now WANT to cry won't come.  They have been suppressed for so long that I find it hard to let them out.  I NEED to let them flow.  I need friends who are able to sit with me through the tears, and to help walk me through the process of tears and anger and a normal range of emotions, and still be there on the other side of the flood.

I don't have a lot of answers for how this plays out.
My friends that feel safe to me are more than 12 hours away.
Besides, my life is full and good.  Some days I don't want to rock the boat.
But there is more...Oh, so much more...and I want to be free to experience the whole spectrum of emotions.

Changing Perspectives

Do you remember how, as a kid, all of the teens and young adults looked so "OLD!!"?  How they were super-cool, and yet you couldn't imagine actually BEING that old, and especially could not imagine life AFTER that?  How as a teenager, seeing people in their 30s and 40s as being REALLY OLD made them super-uncool, and you really couldn't imagine being that uncool?

What happened between then and now?
High school graduation.
College.
Marriage.
6 children.
Military life.
Grad school.
17 moves.

Perspective.  I have gained the perspective that only age and experience afford us.  I am now that super-uncool 40-something, with children in elementary, middle, high school, and college, two cars, and bills.  My focus is VERY different than it was when I was that bug-eyed kid looking up to the young adults surrounding, drooling over their "privilege".

The same thing that happened with my perspective on aging has also happened in other areas of my life.

I could not imagine, now, going back to the sheltered life I once lived.  The thought is enough to make me hyperventilate.

I enjoy many different foods.

I LOVE seeing new places.

I thoroughly enjoy traveling.

The stuff that used to bring me comfort now threatens to suffocate me.

The anger I used to feel about ways I was treated in the past has faded as I recognize the way God has used those experiences to change me.  Yes, there is hurt...the way an old scar is sensitive, an old broken bone aches from time to time.  It is enough to remind me that those scars and breaks are the catalysts to growth.

I am grateful for the changes brought about...not because I enjoyed the pain, but because I know now that God is taking what was designed to break me, and is using it to make me stronger and more useful to Him.

To borrow a much-loved phrase from a friend, "Soli Deo gloria."  Glory to God alone.  He has done this.  Not me.

Realizations

The love expressed by my friends has been amazing.






For far too many years, I have felt alone.

Unloved.

Unseen.

Invisible.

None of this is the fault of any of those friends who have walked this path with me.  Brokenness of mind, body, and spirit happen as the result of abuse.  I could not feel love from others.  I felt my own love, reaching out to those around me, but I never ever felt anything reciprocated...with one exception...my husband was somehow able to break through to me.

So, for many, many years, I was groping my way through my life, feeling blind to love.  I knew what *I* felt, but I could not see that others felt that same way towards me.  I did not know how to be a friend.  I scared people away with my neediness one minute, and my walls and barriers the next.

Repeatedly, I asked for help.
Not in so many words, because that would be admitting that I was broken.
Rather, I tried to find a best friend.
A mentor.
A grandmother.
A mother.
Someone.
ANYONE who would love me.

With the help of my husband and several amazing counselors, over the last few years I have started to actually feel loved by and connected to people around me, and by extension, I have actually begun to KNOW that I am loved by God.  It is an amazing thing.

The growth that has happened, the recognition of my own woundedness, and the application of a LOT of years of hard work, both by myself and by my counselors and husband, and especially God's work in my life, have gotten me to this point.

What I have learned in this process:
1. The need for a mother's love never ever goes away.
2. God has brought me a LONG long ways.
3. I still have a LOT more to learn.
4. Really learning about God's love is AMAZING.  For that, I am eternally grateful.