I've been pretty quiet as of late. C's doing well, Hubby's doing well, and I'm wrapping up the loose ends on this semester of school. There's not much to report, and, as a wise blogger advised me when I first began this venture, "Don't blog unless you have something to say."
I'm out of therapy for PTSD. The EMDR seems to have been incredibly effective, and, while my triggers still exist and prompt some anxiety, they are no longer debilitating. I have found the strength and power to walk away from drunk, aggressive men in bars. I am no longer experiencing flashbacks. I have been regularly messaging someone whose very name was a trigger for nearly a decade, and I can say that name without flinching (although I'm not entirely sure if I could handle hearing the name spoken just yet). Most importantly, while I'm still carrying my pepper spray in case of emergency, I no longer grip it tightly when I leave the house. I'm no longer watching my street for my former stalker's car. I no longer fear public places in town because he might show up. Truth be told, I don't even think about him anymore, unless it's as part of a reflection on how far I've come. He has officially lost any power over me.
I've made a new friend who lives a few hours away, but she travels to the area at least once a month for work. We've been chatting and texting for a while, and she's going to be in town this weekend. We have plans for lunch and shopping, dinner with Hubby and C, and even for C and me to stay with her when we go out to Shriner's in a couple of weeks for C's next scoliosis or spina bifida clinic (for the life of me, I can't remember which one this is). It's nice to have a new friend, even if she is a little bit far away. I'm not done shopping for new friends--especially friends who live nearby and are available to hang out more frequently--but I feel a sense of closure at having solidified one new relationship after feeling so geographically isolated from my friends back home.
Life is good. My only complaint would be that I'm ready for this semester to be over so I can get fully caught up on my work before the summer term begins! :)
Showing posts with label EMDR. Show all posts
Showing posts with label EMDR. Show all posts
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Better, But Not Cured
After a few months of EMDR and therapy, my PTSD is remarkably well controlled. My triggers have a much smaller, more manageable effect on me now, and I can often breathe my way through a problem. My therapist has graduated me from weekly sessions to a follow-up in a month to see how I'm doing then and evaluate whether we need to continue treatment. I can finally think about my traumas without reliving them, without having panic attacks, and without losing control and running to the nearest bar for comfort.
That being said, one of my biggest triggers is a particular name. A man who assaulted me, who threatened me, who harassed me, and who tried to break into my home. Hearing his name, seeing it in print... It gets me all worked up and defensive. I can't even speak the name. I've tried, but the sounds won't come out. His name is my biggest trigger...
Sadly, one of the people I've met online who I'm supposed to meet in person (the one I was going to meet yesterday, although there was a last-minute change of plans, as neither of us felt well enough for the outing--it should be noted, I felt sickly because I'd been up all night/morning after a nightmare about one of my assaulters--further evidence I'm not cured), shares a name with that bad man of old. I see it every time I chat with him online. For the most part, it hasn't been an issue, but yesterday...
I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was that I just saw it so many times throughout the day. Perhaps it's because I could hear the name in my head when I read it on the computer screen. For whatever reason, it triggered an attack. It was very slow coming, starting with unnoticeable rise in heart rate and anxiety, and eventually culminating in full-body shakes and an inability to breathe normally. I actually had to take an anxiety pill last night just so I could catch my breath.
This was an isolated event. It doesn't happen every time I'm exposed to one of my triggers (unlike before), and it was very gradual. If I'd been paying more attention, I could probably have stopped the symptoms before they got so extreme. In any event, it's a sure sign that, while I'm much better, I'm definitely not cured. I may never be. I may be living with symptoms of PTSD for the rest of my life... The important part is that I learn to control them, so they can't control me. The men who hurt me no longer have the power in my life; I do. I've taken it back, and I refuse to let go.
That being said, one of my biggest triggers is a particular name. A man who assaulted me, who threatened me, who harassed me, and who tried to break into my home. Hearing his name, seeing it in print... It gets me all worked up and defensive. I can't even speak the name. I've tried, but the sounds won't come out. His name is my biggest trigger...
Sadly, one of the people I've met online who I'm supposed to meet in person (the one I was going to meet yesterday, although there was a last-minute change of plans, as neither of us felt well enough for the outing--it should be noted, I felt sickly because I'd been up all night/morning after a nightmare about one of my assaulters--further evidence I'm not cured), shares a name with that bad man of old. I see it every time I chat with him online. For the most part, it hasn't been an issue, but yesterday...
I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was that I just saw it so many times throughout the day. Perhaps it's because I could hear the name in my head when I read it on the computer screen. For whatever reason, it triggered an attack. It was very slow coming, starting with unnoticeable rise in heart rate and anxiety, and eventually culminating in full-body shakes and an inability to breathe normally. I actually had to take an anxiety pill last night just so I could catch my breath.
This was an isolated event. It doesn't happen every time I'm exposed to one of my triggers (unlike before), and it was very gradual. If I'd been paying more attention, I could probably have stopped the symptoms before they got so extreme. In any event, it's a sure sign that, while I'm much better, I'm definitely not cured. I may never be. I may be living with symptoms of PTSD for the rest of my life... The important part is that I learn to control them, so they can't control me. The men who hurt me no longer have the power in my life; I do. I've taken it back, and I refuse to let go.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Starting Over
In today's mail, I received a DVD with a slideshow of pictures taken the day Hubby and I renewed our wedding vows in October. After a tough EMDR/therapy session and a long, emotional afternoon, seeing those images was just what I needed.
The hubster and I hadn't been getting along very well for a while. We were teetering near the brink of marital disaster, and I wondered what life would be like if I took C and walked away. All around me, marriages were crumbling, and family members were just walking away from years of commitment without any obvious troubles, so it was easy to imagine that I could do it, too.
I thought about it for a long while, and I realized that I had everything to lose and nothing to gain by walking away. I saw that I had turned my back on a love that I cherished, and I had cut myself off from the best friend I had ever known. I resolved to work th
ings out for myself so that we could be happy together, like we had been in the beginning. Then we hit rock bottom. For a week, it looked like there wasn't any choice. We were absolutely doomed. But then... Out of nowhere, hope! It started with a simple, "I love you." It involved many tearful hours of intense conversations about where we were, what we wanted moving forward, and how to get there. Somehow, we fought our way out of the darkness and back into the light.
Love may not conquer all, but it sure can conquer a hell of a lot! We decided that, coming out of our darkest hour, the best way to move forward was to start over, in a sense. We decided to renew our vows. We planned a small, casual event on our alma mater campus and invited a handful of close friends to witness. Then we went to a favorite pub and hung out with fabulous people as a very happy re-married couple. It was truly one of the greatest days of my life. We wrote out our promises to one another and read them in front of the people we loved, while C happily roamed around and played in friends' purses. ;) Honestly, it was beautiful. The only thing about it I would change is the minor hair dye disaster I experienced that made my hair look rather like a Jolly Rancher on our special day!
One of the conditions of our blissful reunion of souls, suggested by myself and agreed upon by my darling, was that I seek out therapy for the PTSD that had been lurking in the shadows and secretly running my life for nearly a decade. He, of course, had always seen it there, and had done everything he could to nourish and support me. I, on the other hand, had been in hardcore denial, because being a victim seemed to mean being weak. As it turns out, it's quite the other way around. Being a victim and identifying yourself as such gives you the strength you need to start to undo the damage of your traumas. Hubby knew this, and he quietly and gently nudged me along until I was ready to realize it for myself.
I do not write about my PTSD or my mental health issues in seek of pity. In fact, the very idea that someone would pity me for any aspect of my life seems ludicrous, because everywhere I look, I see blessings. I write about these things because expressing them helps me to empower myself, to overcome the obstacles in my life, and because there have been countless times when I felt all alone in the world, and I want others out there like myself to be able to stumble across this blog and see that nope, they're not the only ones struggling to make it in this world.
This blog is about a journey. A journey to reclaim my life, reclaim power over my life, and reclaim the unbridled joy I felt before a few jerks cruelly yanked it away. I'm taking it BACK, and how! I still have a long way to go before I'm fully healthy, but I make incredibly progress on a daily basis, and I can't remember ever having felt more loved, more special, or more fulfilled.
The hubster and I hadn't been getting along very well for a while. We were teetering near the brink of marital disaster, and I wondered what life would be like if I took C and walked away. All around me, marriages were crumbling, and family members were just walking away from years of commitment without any obvious troubles, so it was easy to imagine that I could do it, too.
I thought about it for a long while, and I realized that I had everything to lose and nothing to gain by walking away. I saw that I had turned my back on a love that I cherished, and I had cut myself off from the best friend I had ever known. I resolved to work th
ings out for myself so that we could be happy together, like we had been in the beginning. Then we hit rock bottom. For a week, it looked like there wasn't any choice. We were absolutely doomed. But then... Out of nowhere, hope! It started with a simple, "I love you." It involved many tearful hours of intense conversations about where we were, what we wanted moving forward, and how to get there. Somehow, we fought our way out of the darkness and back into the light.
Love may not conquer all, but it sure can conquer a hell of a lot! We decided that, coming out of our darkest hour, the best way to move forward was to start over, in a sense. We decided to renew our vows. We planned a small, casual event on our alma mater campus and invited a handful of close friends to witness. Then we went to a favorite pub and hung out with fabulous people as a very happy re-married couple. It was truly one of the greatest days of my life. We wrote out our promises to one another and read them in front of the people we loved, while C happily roamed around and played in friends' purses. ;) Honestly, it was beautiful. The only thing about it I would change is the minor hair dye disaster I experienced that made my hair look rather like a Jolly Rancher on our special day!
One of the conditions of our blissful reunion of souls, suggested by myself and agreed upon by my darling, was that I seek out therapy for the PTSD that had been lurking in the shadows and secretly running my life for nearly a decade. He, of course, had always seen it there, and had done everything he could to nourish and support me. I, on the other hand, had been in hardcore denial, because being a victim seemed to mean being weak. As it turns out, it's quite the other way around. Being a victim and identifying yourself as such gives you the strength you need to start to undo the damage of your traumas. Hubby knew this, and he quietly and gently nudged me along until I was ready to realize it for myself.
I do not write about my PTSD or my mental health issues in seek of pity. In fact, the very idea that someone would pity me for any aspect of my life seems ludicrous, because everywhere I look, I see blessings. I write about these things because expressing them helps me to empower myself, to overcome the obstacles in my life, and because there have been countless times when I felt all alone in the world, and I want others out there like myself to be able to stumble across this blog and see that nope, they're not the only ones struggling to make it in this world.
This blog is about a journey. A journey to reclaim my life, reclaim power over my life, and reclaim the unbridled joy I felt before a few jerks cruelly yanked it away. I'm taking it BACK, and how! I still have a long way to go before I'm fully healthy, but I make incredibly progress on a daily basis, and I can't remember ever having felt more loved, more special, or more fulfilled.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
My First EMDR Session
This morning was my third visit to the new therapist, but our first time actually giving EMDR a shot. We started with what I had rated the least emotionally disturbing of my past traumas. I started out with a lot of trepidation about the therapy, anxiety and stress about the trauma, and a whole big ball of negative emotions in the pit of my stomach.
Now, somehow, after only an hour, I feel empowered. I feel like I rewrote the ending to that disaster, like I told the *** what I felt about him and what he did, and like I walked away and never looked back. None of those things actually happened, but we tricked my mind and body into believing they did, and now I'm breathing easier and can think about the experience without reliving it or experiencing profound anxiety. It has no more power over me than any other memory now... It's not an ongoing trauma that lives on in my brain. It's over, it's been resolved, and I can move on now. After six years. /whew!
The most interesting thing for me was that, at times, watching the therapist's fingers move back and forth, my mind would actually start to play back memories like a movie between the two ends of his finger movements. His fingers would slide across my visual field, and I'd get a flash of a black-and-white movie image, and it would slowly move and change with each pass of his fingers. It wasn't frightening or anxiety-provoking; it was like watching everything from a safe distance, through a protective lens, where I was in control and could change the outcome, or just blink twice really quickly and shut off the film altogether. It was truly fascinating!
When it was over, my body was relaxed, and I felt exhausted. Like, go home and take a 3-hour nap without the need for a sleeping pill exhausted. I also felt like crying, but part of my PTSD prevents me from crying in front of anyone but my husband and daughter (it feels too vulnerable and opens me up for attack), so I just swallowed back the tears and smiled my way out of the office. When C gets off the bus in twenty minutes and goes down for her nap, I'll probably sit down on the couch under my electric blanket, take a few deep breaths, and have a nice, cleansing cry. It's still welling up in me, just below the surface, but I can't risk a teary meltdown before I get C off the bus, so I'll just keep pushing it down until she's in bed.
The doctor assured me that he's doing the paperwork to get my future visits approved and that I will qualify for more than 3 visits, so I'm a little less stressed about that now. It will all get sorted out, and I *WILL* get better! I just wonder how long it will take...
This first one was the tip of the iceberg, the very least upsetting in a fairly long list of traumas. It took an hour to sort out. How long will the harder ones take? How difficult will it be to trick my brain with those? How much longer will they have so much power over me and my every thought, move, and breath? There are a lot of questions... But today gave me a lot of hope. I turned one tragedy into a meaningless, powerless memory, so who's to say I can't do that with the rest of them?
I'm feeling positive. Like I said earlier, I feel empowered. I can do this.
Now, somehow, after only an hour, I feel empowered. I feel like I rewrote the ending to that disaster, like I told the *** what I felt about him and what he did, and like I walked away and never looked back. None of those things actually happened, but we tricked my mind and body into believing they did, and now I'm breathing easier and can think about the experience without reliving it or experiencing profound anxiety. It has no more power over me than any other memory now... It's not an ongoing trauma that lives on in my brain. It's over, it's been resolved, and I can move on now. After six years. /whew!
The most interesting thing for me was that, at times, watching the therapist's fingers move back and forth, my mind would actually start to play back memories like a movie between the two ends of his finger movements. His fingers would slide across my visual field, and I'd get a flash of a black-and-white movie image, and it would slowly move and change with each pass of his fingers. It wasn't frightening or anxiety-provoking; it was like watching everything from a safe distance, through a protective lens, where I was in control and could change the outcome, or just blink twice really quickly and shut off the film altogether. It was truly fascinating!
When it was over, my body was relaxed, and I felt exhausted. Like, go home and take a 3-hour nap without the need for a sleeping pill exhausted. I also felt like crying, but part of my PTSD prevents me from crying in front of anyone but my husband and daughter (it feels too vulnerable and opens me up for attack), so I just swallowed back the tears and smiled my way out of the office. When C gets off the bus in twenty minutes and goes down for her nap, I'll probably sit down on the couch under my electric blanket, take a few deep breaths, and have a nice, cleansing cry. It's still welling up in me, just below the surface, but I can't risk a teary meltdown before I get C off the bus, so I'll just keep pushing it down until she's in bed.
The doctor assured me that he's doing the paperwork to get my future visits approved and that I will qualify for more than 3 visits, so I'm a little less stressed about that now. It will all get sorted out, and I *WILL* get better! I just wonder how long it will take...
This first one was the tip of the iceberg, the very least upsetting in a fairly long list of traumas. It took an hour to sort out. How long will the harder ones take? How difficult will it be to trick my brain with those? How much longer will they have so much power over me and my every thought, move, and breath? There are a lot of questions... But today gave me a lot of hope. I turned one tragedy into a meaningless, powerless memory, so who's to say I can't do that with the rest of them?
I'm feeling positive. Like I said earlier, I feel empowered. I can do this.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Back on Track!
Well, the holiday long weekend is officially over, C is on the bus on her way to school, and I've got an appointment with my trainer in just under two hours. I have to clean and vacuum two rooms before C gets home (asleep) at noon so the steam cleaners can clean those rooms (a little gift from the hubby!). I also have a paper to write and an online final to take by Wednesday. /whew! Life is always just a little bit hectic around here. :)
I am eating nothing but Nutrisystem today, because I need to get back on the dieting wagon ASAP if I'm gonna look good by the time I go home for Christmas in 3 weeks! Going home means running into old high school acquaintances at restaurants and stores and clubs, which means being sized up to see who's got the better life, the better figure, and the better clothes now. Well, I'm going to lose the clothing competition hands-down, and those who don't know better will think my life isn't perfect because my daughter has special needs (how very wrong they are!), so I really have to fight on the superficial front and at least have the better figure! ;)
I'm nervous because my therapist hasn't called me back since the insurance company limited my visits to 3, so I don't know yet if we can start up with my EMDR, which I desperately need. I feel pushed aside and insignificant because he couldn't even be bothered to return my call and say, "We'll work something out." It's been nearly two weeks, and I just haven't heard a word from him. I'm a little angry. I feel marginalized. He's supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me limp through recovering from my PTSD, and he can't even make a phone call when I'm in crisis? That's just not cool... But I'm not writing him off yet. I need his expertise and experience too much, and he may have worked some insurance magic behind the scenes that I just don't know about yet. We'll find out about that at tomorrow's appointment. I won't have to fret much longer.
This was a great weekend for me on Twitter. I found a whole bunch of great new people to follow, and I have several new followers, myself. I'm building a network of people who have experiences with special needs, particularly autism (I am LOVING the autism crowd!), parenting, and teaching. I view these people as companions, peers, and resources... I am learning so much about parenting a child with autism, which will help me teach children with ASD in a few years when I'm finished with school, and it helps me parent my own little girl, who doesn't have ASD but isn't NT, either. I am meeting people whose lives are as hectic and emotionally challenging as mine is--people who GET IT. And then, on top of it all, I'm meeting other teachers who can help give me tips as I enter the world of Special Education. All of this is huge for me, but I appreciate the companionship most. It's a lonely, isolating world when your child isn't typically developing, and it's that much lonelier without people on your side who have been there and know what you're experiencing. Invaluable.
It's Cyber Monday, so I should stay off the computer as much as possible today. I am completely out of money and can't afford to get sucked in by the online specials! Boot Barn and Kohl's have been bombarding me with emails, and I'm more than a little tempted...! Excessive shopping can be a symptom of a manic episode, and those often end in me spending ~$4000 I don't have, so I have to sit back, relax, take deep breaths, and try to keep my mouse away from the Add To Cart buttons so I don't put myself in financial trouble. Ahh, the joys of being bipolar!
Alright, time to eat some Nutrisystem breakfast and hop in the shower. After all, it's just rude to show up at the gym smelly--you're supposed to at least start out smelling fresh! ;)
I am eating nothing but Nutrisystem today, because I need to get back on the dieting wagon ASAP if I'm gonna look good by the time I go home for Christmas in 3 weeks! Going home means running into old high school acquaintances at restaurants and stores and clubs, which means being sized up to see who's got the better life, the better figure, and the better clothes now. Well, I'm going to lose the clothing competition hands-down, and those who don't know better will think my life isn't perfect because my daughter has special needs (how very wrong they are!), so I really have to fight on the superficial front and at least have the better figure! ;)
I'm nervous because my therapist hasn't called me back since the insurance company limited my visits to 3, so I don't know yet if we can start up with my EMDR, which I desperately need. I feel pushed aside and insignificant because he couldn't even be bothered to return my call and say, "We'll work something out." It's been nearly two weeks, and I just haven't heard a word from him. I'm a little angry. I feel marginalized. He's supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me limp through recovering from my PTSD, and he can't even make a phone call when I'm in crisis? That's just not cool... But I'm not writing him off yet. I need his expertise and experience too much, and he may have worked some insurance magic behind the scenes that I just don't know about yet. We'll find out about that at tomorrow's appointment. I won't have to fret much longer.
This was a great weekend for me on Twitter. I found a whole bunch of great new people to follow, and I have several new followers, myself. I'm building a network of people who have experiences with special needs, particularly autism (I am LOVING the autism crowd!), parenting, and teaching. I view these people as companions, peers, and resources... I am learning so much about parenting a child with autism, which will help me teach children with ASD in a few years when I'm finished with school, and it helps me parent my own little girl, who doesn't have ASD but isn't NT, either. I am meeting people whose lives are as hectic and emotionally challenging as mine is--people who GET IT. And then, on top of it all, I'm meeting other teachers who can help give me tips as I enter the world of Special Education. All of this is huge for me, but I appreciate the companionship most. It's a lonely, isolating world when your child isn't typically developing, and it's that much lonelier without people on your side who have been there and know what you're experiencing. Invaluable.
It's Cyber Monday, so I should stay off the computer as much as possible today. I am completely out of money and can't afford to get sucked in by the online specials! Boot Barn and Kohl's have been bombarding me with emails, and I'm more than a little tempted...! Excessive shopping can be a symptom of a manic episode, and those often end in me spending ~$4000 I don't have, so I have to sit back, relax, take deep breaths, and try to keep my mouse away from the Add To Cart buttons so I don't put myself in financial trouble. Ahh, the joys of being bipolar!
Alright, time to eat some Nutrisystem breakfast and hop in the shower. After all, it's just rude to show up at the gym smelly--you're supposed to at least start out smelling fresh! ;)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
PTSD and Parenting
For 8-1/2 years, I have been battling Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The thing is, I didn't know I had PTSD until a few months ago. It has colored everything in my life for nearly a decade, causing me to make some questionable decisions, making me keep the people I love at arm's length, and creating a very high anxiety situation in my life. I can't sleep without sleeping pills, I have to take two anxiety pills a day, and I suffer from violent night terrors that result in me beating my husband in my sleep (though, in fairness, he probably deserves it. ;) )
C is nearly 4 years.... Which means I had PTSD for years before conceiving her and for the entire time I've been her mom. On a scale of 1-10, my standard stress level is an 8 or 9. I am constantly clenching my jaw, my knees, my toes... SOMETHING. I am incapable of relaxing. So how did learning my daughter had multiple disabilities and health conditions contribute to this? Well, it certainly didn't HELP my anxiety, that's for sure!
How do you face the world head-on, advocate for your child, and remain positive and supportive of them when you constantly feel like the world is a terrifying place full of life-threatening dangers? How do you focus on creating learning opportunities for your child through play when you can't stop thinking that you have no way to protect yourself if and when someone breaks through the front door?
About a month ago, I started seeing a new therapist who specializes in EMDR (look it up; it's interesting and effective for PTSD). We laid the groundwork for the therapy, creating a prioritized list of memories that are intrusive and cause great emotional disturbances, as well as a mental "safe place" (my childhood bedroom) to which I can retreat if therapy gets too difficult and I need to feel protected. Then my insurance company sent me a letter saying they were only approving 3 visits (2 of which I had already used) to the new therapist.
I went into a panic. I cried, I shook, and I curled up in bed for hours, unable to function. I had finally found someone with a technique that could actually help me and change my life for the better, and now the insurance company is threatening to take that away from me??!? It was a nightmare, and it sent me into an emotional crisis. I went into my daughter's bedroom to sit with her for a minute, and I emerged 45 minutes later without having uttered a sound or made a single move. I can only imagine what her little brain made of that!
Sometimes, it seems nearly impossible to take care of another human life when you feel so out of control over your own life. When the world is just too big and too scary and too dangerous to function, how do you prepare a child--especially a child with special needs--to enter that world? Wouldn't it be better just to lock her in her room for her entire life and spare her the pain and anguish that lurks in the world beyond the front door?
Most days, I do just fine. I wake up, I get her ready for preschool, and I put her on the bus without any major anxiety. I don't fret while she's at school, and I'm excited when the bus drops her off and I have my baby girl back in my arms. I remember that play is educational and therapeutic, and I play with her. I try to teach her new words, new ways to play, and new skills. I am a good mother.
Then there are those days when the walls come tumbling down around me, and all I can do is sit among the rubble and mourn the evils in the world, the way in which I suffer daily, and a general sense of hopelessness that interferes with my ability to see past my daughter's challenges and makes trying to raise my expectations and overcome the obstacles nearly impossible. I am a good mother, but I am not a perfect mother. I am broken, and sometimes I just don't work correctly or as intended.
Parenting with PTSD and mental illness is a constant struggle. Sure, there are pills and therapists and online support groups to help you through it... But I never feel like I'm good enough for C. I'm not whole, so how can I be the exceptional mother her disabilities require? At least I'm healthy enough to know I need help and to seek it out. I don't give up on my mental health any more than I would give up on C. On the hard days, I fight and I keep my head above water so I can be and do all the things I need to be and do. Then there are the easy days, when I can simply enjoy the miracles in my life and the wonder that is my little girl.
I'm looking forward to getting the insurance company on my side so I can get better and have more of those easy days.
C is nearly 4 years.... Which means I had PTSD for years before conceiving her and for the entire time I've been her mom. On a scale of 1-10, my standard stress level is an 8 or 9. I am constantly clenching my jaw, my knees, my toes... SOMETHING. I am incapable of relaxing. So how did learning my daughter had multiple disabilities and health conditions contribute to this? Well, it certainly didn't HELP my anxiety, that's for sure!
How do you face the world head-on, advocate for your child, and remain positive and supportive of them when you constantly feel like the world is a terrifying place full of life-threatening dangers? How do you focus on creating learning opportunities for your child through play when you can't stop thinking that you have no way to protect yourself if and when someone breaks through the front door?
About a month ago, I started seeing a new therapist who specializes in EMDR (look it up; it's interesting and effective for PTSD). We laid the groundwork for the therapy, creating a prioritized list of memories that are intrusive and cause great emotional disturbances, as well as a mental "safe place" (my childhood bedroom) to which I can retreat if therapy gets too difficult and I need to feel protected. Then my insurance company sent me a letter saying they were only approving 3 visits (2 of which I had already used) to the new therapist.
I went into a panic. I cried, I shook, and I curled up in bed for hours, unable to function. I had finally found someone with a technique that could actually help me and change my life for the better, and now the insurance company is threatening to take that away from me??!? It was a nightmare, and it sent me into an emotional crisis. I went into my daughter's bedroom to sit with her for a minute, and I emerged 45 minutes later without having uttered a sound or made a single move. I can only imagine what her little brain made of that!
Sometimes, it seems nearly impossible to take care of another human life when you feel so out of control over your own life. When the world is just too big and too scary and too dangerous to function, how do you prepare a child--especially a child with special needs--to enter that world? Wouldn't it be better just to lock her in her room for her entire life and spare her the pain and anguish that lurks in the world beyond the front door?
Most days, I do just fine. I wake up, I get her ready for preschool, and I put her on the bus without any major anxiety. I don't fret while she's at school, and I'm excited when the bus drops her off and I have my baby girl back in my arms. I remember that play is educational and therapeutic, and I play with her. I try to teach her new words, new ways to play, and new skills. I am a good mother.
Then there are those days when the walls come tumbling down around me, and all I can do is sit among the rubble and mourn the evils in the world, the way in which I suffer daily, and a general sense of hopelessness that interferes with my ability to see past my daughter's challenges and makes trying to raise my expectations and overcome the obstacles nearly impossible. I am a good mother, but I am not a perfect mother. I am broken, and sometimes I just don't work correctly or as intended.
Parenting with PTSD and mental illness is a constant struggle. Sure, there are pills and therapists and online support groups to help you through it... But I never feel like I'm good enough for C. I'm not whole, so how can I be the exceptional mother her disabilities require? At least I'm healthy enough to know I need help and to seek it out. I don't give up on my mental health any more than I would give up on C. On the hard days, I fight and I keep my head above water so I can be and do all the things I need to be and do. Then there are the easy days, when I can simply enjoy the miracles in my life and the wonder that is my little girl.
I'm looking forward to getting the insurance company on my side so I can get better and have more of those easy days.
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