I'm really hoping this post will not be that long. No one wants to read a blog post that goes over 10 years. I'm sure every blogger out there is working on a decade in review post. That is because it is worth looking back on and evaluating where you were and where you might be going. Is that what a 5 year and a 10 year plan are for? (For the record, I have never had a 5 or 10 year plan, which might be part of the issue for some things.)
Here's the deal, this last decade was not just any decade for me. I went from 40 to 50 years old. Yes, we all got a decade older, but those were significant birthdays. I guess I will start there. My 40th birthday was filled with laughter (literally); I had a laughter yoga instructor there and we laughed our heads off. It was tons of fun. My 50th was quieter. I wanted a huge celebration. I wanted a huge party. I mean it was my half century mark. Instead, I had a little surprise part at the belly dance studio I belonged to, and a quiet family celebration at home. It was a nice birthday, but much different than my 40th. And I'm certain that is because the last decade has been significantly harder and celebrating things just isn't the same as it was in the year 2010.
I will say there were some incredible highs in the last decade. To start, I set a huge goal for myself. I was to finish 52 weeks of weight watchers (You might have read that blog), and I set a goal to do the Honolulu marathon in 2011. I accomplished and surpassed that goal. Reaching that goal set a whole new passion in motion. I fell in love with running. I didn't just do the Honolulu marathon, but I did several more marathons, some half marathons, a 10K a couple of 5Ks and one ultra marathon. I didn't do all of those in 1 year, but I did do them in 2. I was in the best shape of my life, and I was loving life!
I was training for a 100 mile "race" when I ended up with back and knee surgeries followed by a huge concussion that I got while training for a 400 mile bike adventure where I raised over $2000 to help build/repair homes for those in need. I was to ride and help repair homes while on this adventure. The concussion took me out. So later that summer, after training, I decided to ride the 400 miles on my own. It was a beautiful week of riding my bike around some of my favorite roads, trails, and towns. During that time, I rode my first 100 mile bike ride in one day. It was a huge accomplishment that I have not repeated yet. Maybe in 2020...maybe.
In 2014, feeling amazing about my life, I decided to take to the burlesque stage. It was the most empowering thing I had done for myself. I had already started belly dancing in 2011, and burlesque was a form of performance that I had loved for years. I took a group class where we all agreed to perform at the next opportunity. As fate would have it, the rest of the class bailed and I was offered the solo for our routine, and I jumped at the opportunity and the rest was history. Burlesque has literally taken me places I never thought it would take me. I took me and Tracy all the way to England so that I could perform in the Bristol Burlesque Festival. It also took me to Portland, Oregon so that I could perform in a competition, which I didn't win; however the experience was tons of fun, and I wouldn't change it for the world. To this date, I have performed for 5 1/2 years, and I'm not entirely certain I will continue at the end of this season. I feel as though life is pulling me in a different direction, but never say never, right?
2014 had my life crash around me. Our oldest son, Nick, was killed in a motorcycle accident. Life has not been the same without him. The care free joy that was in our house disappeared. Every little victory is colored with the sense of grief of wishing Nick was here to celebrate with us. Yet, we all continue to live, persevere and move forward as best as possible. Each one of us walks a similar path, yet we all have our own paths to walk. My grief took me to some very dark places that landed me in the mental hospital a couple of times. If any of you read my blog on a regular basis, you have seen me vomit my grief all over the internet. And you have seen me claw my way up and out. I appreciate your support and love through it all.
Not all of this blog is in chronological order because life's victories and sadness do not all come in clear and neat ways (at least not for this blog's purposes).
Tracy and I had the immense pleasure of travelling this past decade. Not only did we get to do the usual trips to Florida, Texas, Vegas and Washington, but we also got to make some very long trips to Ecuador, Belize, Canada and England. The only trip that our kids got to join us on, was the trip to Canada, and if you ask them, that was their most favorite family vacation ever, and it was the first real vacation after Nick's death. It is certainly one of our favorite trips; we had so much fun with Nate and Omi Girl. There were tons of adventures and laughter. The trip to Belize was to celebrate mine and Tracy's 25th wedding anniversary. It was a huge bucket list for me, and it was the perfect trip. It is certainly one will will always remember, and I can honestly say that trip found me at my happiest with life. Our trip to Ecuador was a fun and unexpected adventure. It wasn't a surprise, but the way in which it happened was unexpected and a true adventure. We had an acquaintance turned friend who had a home there and offered it to anyone who wanted to come visit. AT the time, we had never met this man, but took him up on his offer. We had such an amazing time traveling around Ecuador, getting to know locals and learning a great deal about the culture. I wouldn't have changed a thing. Our trip to England was because of burlesque. I had been there as a teenager, but Tracy had never gone. It was a whirlwind trip of visiting and seeing as much as we possible could...we saw amazing art, architecture, ruins, castles, and of course, the studios where Harry Potter was filmed. We had VIP passes for the studios and that really made Tracy's trip. He deserves it; he works so hard for this family.
The other amazing thing that happened in this decade is that we went from renters to home owners. I'm still not sure how I feel about that. It seemed like the "grown up" thing to do. But man, being a renter is so much easier. Now WE are responsible for home repairs; that's not fun. However, being able to put a tiki bar in our back yard and paint the walls the colors we want IS fun. So its a give and take, and I'll take it.
We also watched our baby girl go from 10 to 20 years old. Do you know how much a kid changes in a decade??? She went from Elementary school to college to deciding that college isn't right for her. (I'm still trying to deal with that concept as that is still fresh). It's scary to think she won't be going to college and getting a degree, but she assures us that she has a plan to lead her to happiness and success in life. All I can do is trust that this will happen.
Nate went from 17 to 27. That means he went from high school to college, and he too, decided college wasn't the right thing for him. He is still trying to figure out what is right for him, but at least he keeps trying, and he hasn't given up. He has tried so many things, I applaud him for his tenacity and creativity and thinking outside of the box. He has the biggest heart I know, and I know that will serve him well.
We were also blessed with a grand baby by one of our bonus children, Jared and his ex wife Breezy. We love all of those kids so much. That grand baby gives us so much pleasure. He is a light in the darkness some days.
This last year of this decade has been harsh. I have never been so ready to see a year come to close, well except maybe the year that Nick died, but we were still grieving so hard, it didn't really make a difference. I'm ready to see this year come to a close. But with all of the angst, sadness, frustrations, scares, it is ending on a positive note with a new career for me. I"m starting 2020 off on a positive note and really hoping that next decade is one of good health, prosperity, joy, and positive growth for my entire family.
From my home to yours, happy New Year, and happy New Decade! May your lives be filled with joy, love, peace, prosperity, and grace to make it through the growth opportunities that are sure to come.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
October 1, 2019... .The path not taken....
Today I was talking with my therapist about this negative self-talk that I seem to have let into my mind. It is a vicious cycle. He started telling me about how my brain and thoughts have different pathways that we either create ourselves or we let others create for us (like our parents or teachers or friends). These pathways are well worn and easy to walk. They are comfortable.
As he was talking it reminded me of a conversation I had with a tiger yesterday.
Yes, you heard me right. I had a conversation (albeit, one sided) with a tiger yesterday.
I was at the zoo with a friend of mine. We had spent 2 hours wandering the zoo and talking with the animals. We had such a great time making up stories with the animals as main characters. The poor animals who looked miserable because of the very noisy geese just the other side of their cage....we made up stories about them and their noise neighbors. Or the baby monkey who wanted the empty bag that held their food but the older monkey wouldn't give it up. So we narrated for him. This is how we spent our time. It was great fun.
We got to the tiger. It was our last animal, and kind of a big one (pun intended). This is a new tiger to the zoo. We had lost our other one, and Boise mourned. Now we have a new one and she is beautiful. We walked up to her habitat and watched her walking along the fence and window line. I had noticed many different pathways that had been worn through the grass and dirt. I looked at the majestic creature and asked, "Are you going to walk the same paths your predecessor did, or are you going to create your own pathways?" My friend looked and said, "Well it looks like she will be waking the already worn paths." As the tiger walked the path our previous Tiger walked over and over and over again.
Today in therapy, once my therapist was done using his metaphor, I chimed in with my thought process. This tiger walked the path that was already laid out for it. Why? Probably because it was easier. Sure it wouldn't have taken much effort to create its own pathways through the grass. It would just take persistence and repetition, but it would be easy enough. Yet, there it was, walking the same old worn down paths of the previous tiger. My therapist looked at me a little amused and agreed with me. This is my task to undertake. My job is to create new pathways for my brain to walk on. I don't have to keep walking the same old tired paths. I can take a step to the left or right or diagonally and walk to the same destination I had wanted to reach, only this one (though may be difficult to bushwhack through) will be a more direct path to my happiness. It will take some persistence. It will take some imagination. It will take some courage. It will take some rest and then some get-up-and-go again. It will take some grace. It will take extra energy and attention. In the end, It will be worth it.
How many times have you taken a path that was laid for you? You didn't think twice. You just saw the path before you and assumed it was the path to take you to the right destination. Instead, you find yourself wandering the path and getting confused because you never get to where you want to be; instead you either keep twisting and turning coming up against obstacle after obstacle, or you find that it keeps taking you to the same ugly place and you never reach that beautiful garden or the beach with warm sand and sun shine. In order to reach those places, you may have to step off the beaten path and create a new one just for you. You don't have to take the path that your parents or teachers or friends have laid out for you. You have your own mind and can make your own decisions on what and how to think.
Which path are you going to take? I hope you to find you out there trailblazing your way to true happiness.
As he was talking it reminded me of a conversation I had with a tiger yesterday.
Yes, you heard me right. I had a conversation (albeit, one sided) with a tiger yesterday.
I was at the zoo with a friend of mine. We had spent 2 hours wandering the zoo and talking with the animals. We had such a great time making up stories with the animals as main characters. The poor animals who looked miserable because of the very noisy geese just the other side of their cage....we made up stories about them and their noise neighbors. Or the baby monkey who wanted the empty bag that held their food but the older monkey wouldn't give it up. So we narrated for him. This is how we spent our time. It was great fun.
We got to the tiger. It was our last animal, and kind of a big one (pun intended). This is a new tiger to the zoo. We had lost our other one, and Boise mourned. Now we have a new one and she is beautiful. We walked up to her habitat and watched her walking along the fence and window line. I had noticed many different pathways that had been worn through the grass and dirt. I looked at the majestic creature and asked, "Are you going to walk the same paths your predecessor did, or are you going to create your own pathways?" My friend looked and said, "Well it looks like she will be waking the already worn paths." As the tiger walked the path our previous Tiger walked over and over and over again.
Today in therapy, once my therapist was done using his metaphor, I chimed in with my thought process. This tiger walked the path that was already laid out for it. Why? Probably because it was easier. Sure it wouldn't have taken much effort to create its own pathways through the grass. It would just take persistence and repetition, but it would be easy enough. Yet, there it was, walking the same old worn down paths of the previous tiger. My therapist looked at me a little amused and agreed with me. This is my task to undertake. My job is to create new pathways for my brain to walk on. I don't have to keep walking the same old tired paths. I can take a step to the left or right or diagonally and walk to the same destination I had wanted to reach, only this one (though may be difficult to bushwhack through) will be a more direct path to my happiness. It will take some persistence. It will take some imagination. It will take some courage. It will take some rest and then some get-up-and-go again. It will take some grace. It will take extra energy and attention. In the end, It will be worth it.
How many times have you taken a path that was laid for you? You didn't think twice. You just saw the path before you and assumed it was the path to take you to the right destination. Instead, you find yourself wandering the path and getting confused because you never get to where you want to be; instead you either keep twisting and turning coming up against obstacle after obstacle, or you find that it keeps taking you to the same ugly place and you never reach that beautiful garden or the beach with warm sand and sun shine. In order to reach those places, you may have to step off the beaten path and create a new one just for you. You don't have to take the path that your parents or teachers or friends have laid out for you. You have your own mind and can make your own decisions on what and how to think.
Which path are you going to take? I hope you to find you out there trailblazing your way to true happiness.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
August 22, 2019 What a difference a year makes!
Yesterday, August 21 2019, marked a year since my first trip to the mental health hospital. The catalyst that took me there was no sleep for longer than 24 hours, coming across a bad motorcycle accident, and social distress. But the real catalyst was my grief. I was a complete wreck and delusional thinking I could still save my son from death. 8 months later, I was back in the hospital because I had not dealt with my grief.
So here we are a year later. What is different?
I have stopped compartmentalizing everything. I have dragged out the metaphorical boxes from the deep recesses of my mind and started to open them up. What I am finding is a great deal of anger, pain, unresolved grief, sadness, depression, anxiety... a whole slew of things that have been put in boxes and shoved aside (I thought never to be seen again). It has been a very painful year; and in some ways it has been a year filled with amazing blessings.
I have reconnected with my Suzy (Nick's widow). We are not doing family functions together, but we have reconnected. I have realized that is all I can do. I am still struggling with her having a baby that isn't Nick's. I'm still struggling with her baby being named Nick. It is still hard. But I don't resent her. It's just hard on me. So making peace with her, while still honoring my own feelings is the best I I can do.
I have created a more peaceful home by rearranging furniture and redecorating some rooms. It has helped a great deal to shift the energy in our home.
I have been through such intensive therapy, and I'm still in regular therapy, that has helped me sort through all of this emotional stuff. OH that reminds me... Thanks to all of this therapy, I went from not feeling anything but anger and misplacing that anger, to feeling everything, but anger really isn't one of them. The anger has been swapped with emotions that are more appropriate for each situation, and I cry at EVERYTHING. That is okay. I'm feeling which is more than I have been doing for the last 4 1/2 years.
I am also taking better care of my family (which includes my puppers). I realized last night that not only had I neglected alot of things in my life and in my family's life, but I had not been getting Shane to the vet for check ups and shots and nail trims or his teeth. I just couldn't look beyond my own pain to take care of anyone else. I was doing the bare minimum to keep my family and my home afloat. Today I took Shane to the vet. Thankfully, everything looks healthy for my 12 year old lab. His teeth need to be cleaned, but everything looks great in his mouth. He got his shots and his nails trimmed and everything is great. *whew*
And then last night, I was interviewed by ProjectGrief. Going through their program and finishing it was one of the most healing things I could have done for the grief. And last night, I got to share that on video for them to use for marketing. I am grateful for the program and for the opportunity to share it with others.
In this last year, I have also found SoulCollage. This art therapy class has been a huge healing factor for me. Anytime I can play with art is healing.
In the last year, I ended up cancelling a great deal of my burlesque performances due to my mental health. I was so upset about having to do that. I want to be the dependable performer that my producers need, and it was breaking my heart to bail. With that said, I did make it to some of the biggest performances of my life... I performed last October in Portland, Oregon for the All Hallows Tease Weekender, I got to perform in England at the Bristol Burlesque Festival, and in November I got to share a stage with some amazing performers from around the country and from England here in Boise for the Dissent show. I am so blessed to have producers who support me and for the opportunities to perform my art that heals. I am grateful to have burlesque in my life.
Of course, through all of this, I have an amazing family who loves me. I know I have scared them more than I can ever understand or express. I am grateful for their love, acceptance and forgivness. I am grateful for their strength. I am grateful for the hugs, the hand holding, the laughter and for their help around the house. I am grateful for the rides when I couldn't drive myself. I am grateful for the clean house and mowed yards.
I am grateful for my friends who have been there for me... the ones who called me while I was hopsitalized, the ones who came to visit me while I was hospitalized, the ones who supported my family while I was going through all of this, the ones who have checked on me and given me hugs. I am grateful for the ones who have read my blogs and facebook posts and cheered me on via the internet. I am grateful for sushi dates and laughter dates.
My life is blessed beyond measure. I could not have made it through this last year, without all of you! Thank you!
So here we are a year later. What is different?
I have stopped compartmentalizing everything. I have dragged out the metaphorical boxes from the deep recesses of my mind and started to open them up. What I am finding is a great deal of anger, pain, unresolved grief, sadness, depression, anxiety... a whole slew of things that have been put in boxes and shoved aside (I thought never to be seen again). It has been a very painful year; and in some ways it has been a year filled with amazing blessings.
I have reconnected with my Suzy (Nick's widow). We are not doing family functions together, but we have reconnected. I have realized that is all I can do. I am still struggling with her having a baby that isn't Nick's. I'm still struggling with her baby being named Nick. It is still hard. But I don't resent her. It's just hard on me. So making peace with her, while still honoring my own feelings is the best I I can do.
I have created a more peaceful home by rearranging furniture and redecorating some rooms. It has helped a great deal to shift the energy in our home.
I have been through such intensive therapy, and I'm still in regular therapy, that has helped me sort through all of this emotional stuff. OH that reminds me... Thanks to all of this therapy, I went from not feeling anything but anger and misplacing that anger, to feeling everything, but anger really isn't one of them. The anger has been swapped with emotions that are more appropriate for each situation, and I cry at EVERYTHING. That is okay. I'm feeling which is more than I have been doing for the last 4 1/2 years.
I am also taking better care of my family (which includes my puppers). I realized last night that not only had I neglected alot of things in my life and in my family's life, but I had not been getting Shane to the vet for check ups and shots and nail trims or his teeth. I just couldn't look beyond my own pain to take care of anyone else. I was doing the bare minimum to keep my family and my home afloat. Today I took Shane to the vet. Thankfully, everything looks healthy for my 12 year old lab. His teeth need to be cleaned, but everything looks great in his mouth. He got his shots and his nails trimmed and everything is great. *whew*
And then last night, I was interviewed by ProjectGrief. Going through their program and finishing it was one of the most healing things I could have done for the grief. And last night, I got to share that on video for them to use for marketing. I am grateful for the program and for the opportunity to share it with others.
In this last year, I have also found SoulCollage. This art therapy class has been a huge healing factor for me. Anytime I can play with art is healing.
In the last year, I ended up cancelling a great deal of my burlesque performances due to my mental health. I was so upset about having to do that. I want to be the dependable performer that my producers need, and it was breaking my heart to bail. With that said, I did make it to some of the biggest performances of my life... I performed last October in Portland, Oregon for the All Hallows Tease Weekender, I got to perform in England at the Bristol Burlesque Festival, and in November I got to share a stage with some amazing performers from around the country and from England here in Boise for the Dissent show. I am so blessed to have producers who support me and for the opportunities to perform my art that heals. I am grateful to have burlesque in my life.
Of course, through all of this, I have an amazing family who loves me. I know I have scared them more than I can ever understand or express. I am grateful for their love, acceptance and forgivness. I am grateful for their strength. I am grateful for the hugs, the hand holding, the laughter and for their help around the house. I am grateful for the rides when I couldn't drive myself. I am grateful for the clean house and mowed yards.
I am grateful for my friends who have been there for me... the ones who called me while I was hopsitalized, the ones who came to visit me while I was hospitalized, the ones who supported my family while I was going through all of this, the ones who have checked on me and given me hugs. I am grateful for the ones who have read my blogs and facebook posts and cheered me on via the internet. I am grateful for sushi dates and laughter dates.
My life is blessed beyond measure. I could not have made it through this last year, without all of you! Thank you!
Wednesday, May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 Warning: Grief! Do Not Go Beyond This Point!
On a beautiful, seemingly normal day, I came across a beautiful bird singing its song. It began to fly, and I followed it and its song to a beautiful forest. While walking through the lush, green forest filled with the new promises of spring; I stopped to smell the flower buds on the tress. The air was thick with the sweet aroma of the colorful blossoms. Bees were busy and buzzing from one purple bud to the next. Birds were singing their happy tunes and celebrating the new season while they prepared their nests that would protect their eggs and a promise for a new generation. Squirrels were playing and chasing each other up one tree and jumping from one to the other and back down again. Even the water in the near by creek was bubbling with the fullness of winter's melt and gave way for new life.
All around me there were signs of joy, peace, love, beauty, and new beginnings. Days like this are what dreams and folktales are made of. My heart felt happy as I walked along the path letting my hands trail beside me brushing the tall, soft grass. But something was tugging at me. A sense of something foreboding was picking at my joy. I looked around and only saw the beauty around me, but with every step I took further into the forest, this dark feeling got stronger. Chills ran up and down my spine. Goosebumps rose from my skin and the hair on my arms stood on end. My chest tightened as my feet trudged further into the forest.
I looked around and it had gotten darker. How did I not notice that the birds had stopped singing. The path beneath my feet had gone from soft, green grass and easy walking to a path overgrown with prickly weeds. The rocks beneath my feet were jagged and hard to keep balance on. Even the babbling creek had turned wide and angry roaring over rapids as if to warn me to just turn around. I couldn't though.
My heart was pounding now. Each beat warned of something dark and scary up ahead. It was still spring, but it had gotten colder. I looked up and dark gray storm clouds had rolled in. The wind had kicked up and I felt the cold wind blow right to my bones. I have been on many hikes in my life time. I have lived through 49 spring times. I knew that what I was experiencing was likely only temporary. I could turn around, back to the safety of a beautiful path, and hope I out run the rain back to my home; or I could keep going through this fear in my soul and dark, rocky, cold path that lay before me. Surely, the sun, beauty and joy would return again... if I just kept walking.
I turned a corner, and there before me was a giant cave looking thing. Was it a cave or was it a tunnel system that would get me to the other side of this forest? I was unsure. All of my friends had told me about this hike, but none of them told me or warned me about a cave or tunnel. None of them warned me that the path would become dangerous and dark. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Had I gotten so wrapped up in the beauty and promises of new beginnings and the end of winter's slumber that I had missed a trail sign to go a different direction? I had no idea. I wished I had brought a trail map with me.
What lie ahead of me was not just a dark hole in a mountain, but a huge orange warning sign nailed to an old wooden fence. The white paint was chipping away. It had been out in the weather for several years. There was yellow "caution" tape strung all across it. Even it was torn and hanging loose in places. This place looked dark, unloved and rarely visited. I mean, why would you? It was obvious no one was supposed to go any further. The orange warning sign said, "Warning: Grief! Do not go beyond this point!"
As soon as I read this sign, I felt my chest tighten. The ringing in my ears grew louder. Thunder crashed overhead as lightning flashed. The wind was really whipping. The torn yellow caution tape was clinging to the wooden fence as if it's life depended on it. I could hear the plastic flapping. The situation was looking and feeling pretty dire. I no longer had time to turn back around to the safe, easy path of spring and new beginnings. I couldn't stay where I was standing. Hail as big as golf balls had started to pelt my goose-bumped skin. Standing there in the dark, cold forest was too dangerous. But what would happen if I ignored the whipping caution tape, the bright orange warning sign and climbed over the old, weathered, splintered, wood fence? What danger was ahead of me?
I stood there in my fear, welts forming on my cold, red skin. I looked around longing for another option, but there was none. Then as if something was haunting me, I heard the slightest sound of what seemed like a young child whimpering. I stopped everything. I didn't dare move a muscle. I willed my heart to stop pounding and my ears to stop ringing. What was that sound? I stood very still, holding my breath and I heard it again. It was the sound of a young child crying and it was getting louder. It was coming from the inside of the dark hole in the mountain. The poor thing had some how found its way behind the warning sign and must be scared in the darkness. That was it! I had to get in there.
Carefully, I put my hands on the top board and stepped up on the rickety fence. Slowly, one foot at a time, I ignored the warning signs and climbed the fence. The crying was getting louder and I heard a quiet voice plead, "Please help me. I'm scared."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I started moving at a quick pace, carefully throwing my legs one at a time over the top of the fence. Once my entire body was over the fence, I looked over my shoulder to check out the ground beneath me. More sharp rocks; I couldn't just jump off of this fence. I climbed down as quickly as possible and felt the piercing of a sliver of wood sink into my right hand. My feet wobbled; I lost my balance and fell backwards off the fence.
It took a few minutes for me to come back to awareness. My head had hit one of the sharp rocks. My hand reached for the back of my head and felt warm liquid as blood dripped through my fingers. My body hurt all over. My ears were ringing louder and my head was aching. Gently, I lifted myself to my feet and brushed off the dirt. My clothes were ripped from the rocks beneath me. Slowly I placed my feet carefully on the rocks as I started entering the darkness.
My eyes adjusted to the dark as I strained to see beyond my out reached arms. I fumbled as I moved forward and further toward the sound of the crying child. I tripped in a hole and rolled my ankle. the pain shot through and up my leg. I reached my left hand out to catch myself and felt the cool moist rock slice open my hand.
I kept walking towards the crying and whimpering child. What are they doing here? How did they get here? Who would leave a child behind in this scary, cold, desolate place?
As I slipped on the moist rocks and felt water dripping on my head, I kept walking and crying. My hands, ankle, head all hurting and now a heaviness has begun to find its way into my heart. My whole being was feeling tortured by the darkness, isolation, cold and the crying child that seems to be getting closer. The sorrow I was beginning to feel started to feel so personal. The crying seemed to be coming from me rather than from outside of me. Tears started pouring from my eyes. Memories that seemed foreign to me began playing in my head. What was going on? Why was this happening to me?
I kept walking toward the crying child, but it was hard to differentiate between their crying and my crying. My heart and chest felt like they were going to explode. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive this pain I was feeling.
I heard a sound coming from somewhere in this dark place. I jumped and screamed. What kind of monsters live in this dark place? Would they hurt me? Would they kill me? They couldn't because they haven't killed the child in here, but maybe that is why the child is crying. Maybe the unseen monsters have hurt this young child who is crying. I need to get to them to save and protect them.
Walking through this darkness, I heard voices telling me stories about intense pain. As they talked, I could feel that same pain in my body, heart and soul. I was being haunted by what felt like someone else's memories. I could smell the stench of grief; it was pungent and bitter. If I had not already been crying, my eyes would have started to water. It was so strong, I wanted to plug my nose, but it was also one of those smells that you could taste if you tried to breathe through your mouth. I gasped hoping for fresh air to breathe, but there was none.
I felt my self suffocating while I tried to walk. By now all I could hear was my own crying that had become out right wailing My body was shaking and shuttering. Every inch of my body was in pain. Every step I took over the sharp, slippery rocks sent inconceivable pain straight up my legs. My arms were so heavy, I couldn't even lift them to wipe my eyes or the snot pouring from my nose. My chest was exploding and it felt like I had nothing left to give to myself much less that child.
With my lungs burning and gasping for air, I kept my forward movement going. I had to find that abandoned child. My feet began to feel tangled and I felt myself tripping. In my despair, I had not noticed the sharp rocks had given way to tangled vines. It seemed as though these vines were deliberately trying to trip me and hold me in place. I tripped and stumbled and finally fell to my knees almost falling into a dark mirror-like pond of water.
Confused, I shook my head as if to clear the confusion from my head. I looked in the pond, and I gasped at what I saw. There was a young girl in the water! The crying child was right there in the water. But how had she survived deep in this water? How could she cry or beg for help? Was she really there?
I looked at her again. She was trapped by vines that wrapped around her body and bound her upper arms to her body. The vines wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe. I could barely breathe. My own chest felt tight and constricted.
I needed to save this little girl; somehow I needed to pull her out of the water and help her escape this pond, this cave, this grief. I reached my hand towards the water and I saw her struggle to reach out towards me. My hand dipped into the water and her hand had reached out to me but where I should have felt her hand, I only felt water. I looked again at this bound up, crying little girl and realized that she looked just like me.
Gasping from the shock of seeing this little, tortured version of me, I began to wail. I just wanted to pick her up out of the water and hold her, comfort her, and tell her it would be okay. But is it? Can I really tell her that? Was that true? Would she, I, we be okay? Right now we were both feeling bound up and trapped by this horrible experience and feeling. I sat there and cried with her. I talked to her. When I talked, she talked too. We we were one.
"Hi, Little One. How can I help you? What do you need?"
She replied, and I felt my own lips move with her words, "I need you to love and protect me. I want to feel supported by you. I need to get untied and be free to play. I want to laugh. I've been here too long. I am stuck and am slowly dieing. I am ready to return to the light; please take me."
My heart ached for her, for me, for us. "I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Than you. I promise to love you and take care of you. I will untangle both of us, set us free and walk us out of this dark, dark place."
Her face softened and I continued, "I understand we have been hurting and I have not been caring for you, me, us. And know that I love you and am doing my level best to make me stronger to protect us and love us. I will shine a light on us and the way at of this darkness. I have seen the light before, and maybe, together, we can get back there. Not only can we see it again, maybe we can shine it for others too. Would you like to do that?"
Immediately I feel the vines fall away and I see her reach her arms high to the sky. She looked, and I felt, freer than I have felt in a long time. I reached into the water to pick her up and filled my hands with water and raised my water filled hands to my head and face. The cool water washed over me and the young girl and myself were brought together. My heart felt a little lighter.
I pushed myself up from the damp ground; a bit unsteady, I wobbled. I took a deep breath, and for the first time since the clouds rolled in, my chest felt loser and breathing was easier.
Not feeling 100% myself yet, still feeling lighter than before, I contemplated how to leave the darkness. I considered where I came from. I remembered the treacherous, sharp rocks. My body still held the pain and the cuts from my journey into the darkness. I remembered how shaky and splintered that fence was. The idea of going backward sent a shiver up my spine. And the little girl voice said, "No. Do not look back. Going forward is the only way out."
My whole body hurt from the journey into this cave. My feet ached. My hands were cut. My knees were bruised. Even my own heart was still feeling a bit heavy. This journey into this grief space, into this darkness, was painful, and now I had to find the strength to get out. To move backwards was scary, but at least I knew the perils. Moving forward into the unknown was even scarier, but at least there was hope it may be easier. I would never know if I stayed here in this soft grassy place that had once held me captive with scratchy vines. It was tempting to just give in and stay here in this place. I could just stay here and sleep. There is no light to keep me awake. There are no people to distract me. I could sit here in the complete darkness and accept this place as my own. I was so tired from the journey here. What if I just slept for a little while?
I heard the voice deep inside of me. "No. To sleep for a little bit, would mean to stay in the darkness forever. Grief is meant to go through, not avoid or stay in. You must keep walking forward. Move towards the light."
As if my feet knew the way, they began to move one foot in front of the other. I held my hands out to feel my way around. It seemed as though my eyes had adjusted to the darkness because I was beginning to see better and more clearly.
The further I walked away from the mossy area around the dark pond, the harder the ground became. But there was a big difference. There were no more painfully, sharp rocks. My feet only found hard, smooth surfaces to walk on. The path leading out was wider than the path that had lead into the entrance.
As I moved forward, I felt the air get thinner and less heavy. The suffocating humidity had disappeared. I could breath easier. My skin was feeling a welcome warmth caress its surface. My heart was beginning to sing. I heard the music in my head. I could feel the vibrations of joy return to my whole body. I was lighter and was gracefully moving through to what looked like light ahead.
I thought back to the start of my day and the start of this journey. A little singing bird had brought me here into the forest. I remembered the beauty of life. I remembered the color of happiness. I remembered the vibrancy of love. I felt stronger with every step. I kept moving. There was a large opening up ahead and beautiful sunlight was passing through the rocky opening. The light danced off of the crystals that lined the walls of the cave. Happy rays of color danced and sparkled. A smile grew on my face. I was giddy with happiness and hope.
Finally, I reached the other side of grief and darkness and stepped out of the cave into love and light. I had saved the little girl that was me. Together we supported each other and loved each other enough; we trusted each other enough to guide each other out of the pit of despair that was grief and into the beautiful spring sunlight with the cool gentle breeze. I looked upon the new flowers and leaves on the trees. I smelled the sweetness of renewed life and for the first time in a long time, I laughed and played as I chased after a butterfly that escorted me through the beautiful new adventure that had become my new life.
All around me there were signs of joy, peace, love, beauty, and new beginnings. Days like this are what dreams and folktales are made of. My heart felt happy as I walked along the path letting my hands trail beside me brushing the tall, soft grass. But something was tugging at me. A sense of something foreboding was picking at my joy. I looked around and only saw the beauty around me, but with every step I took further into the forest, this dark feeling got stronger. Chills ran up and down my spine. Goosebumps rose from my skin and the hair on my arms stood on end. My chest tightened as my feet trudged further into the forest.
I looked around and it had gotten darker. How did I not notice that the birds had stopped singing. The path beneath my feet had gone from soft, green grass and easy walking to a path overgrown with prickly weeds. The rocks beneath my feet were jagged and hard to keep balance on. Even the babbling creek had turned wide and angry roaring over rapids as if to warn me to just turn around. I couldn't though.
My heart was pounding now. Each beat warned of something dark and scary up ahead. It was still spring, but it had gotten colder. I looked up and dark gray storm clouds had rolled in. The wind had kicked up and I felt the cold wind blow right to my bones. I have been on many hikes in my life time. I have lived through 49 spring times. I knew that what I was experiencing was likely only temporary. I could turn around, back to the safety of a beautiful path, and hope I out run the rain back to my home; or I could keep going through this fear in my soul and dark, rocky, cold path that lay before me. Surely, the sun, beauty and joy would return again... if I just kept walking.
I turned a corner, and there before me was a giant cave looking thing. Was it a cave or was it a tunnel system that would get me to the other side of this forest? I was unsure. All of my friends had told me about this hike, but none of them told me or warned me about a cave or tunnel. None of them warned me that the path would become dangerous and dark. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Had I gotten so wrapped up in the beauty and promises of new beginnings and the end of winter's slumber that I had missed a trail sign to go a different direction? I had no idea. I wished I had brought a trail map with me.
What lie ahead of me was not just a dark hole in a mountain, but a huge orange warning sign nailed to an old wooden fence. The white paint was chipping away. It had been out in the weather for several years. There was yellow "caution" tape strung all across it. Even it was torn and hanging loose in places. This place looked dark, unloved and rarely visited. I mean, why would you? It was obvious no one was supposed to go any further. The orange warning sign said, "Warning: Grief! Do not go beyond this point!"
As soon as I read this sign, I felt my chest tighten. The ringing in my ears grew louder. Thunder crashed overhead as lightning flashed. The wind was really whipping. The torn yellow caution tape was clinging to the wooden fence as if it's life depended on it. I could hear the plastic flapping. The situation was looking and feeling pretty dire. I no longer had time to turn back around to the safe, easy path of spring and new beginnings. I couldn't stay where I was standing. Hail as big as golf balls had started to pelt my goose-bumped skin. Standing there in the dark, cold forest was too dangerous. But what would happen if I ignored the whipping caution tape, the bright orange warning sign and climbed over the old, weathered, splintered, wood fence? What danger was ahead of me?
I stood there in my fear, welts forming on my cold, red skin. I looked around longing for another option, but there was none. Then as if something was haunting me, I heard the slightest sound of what seemed like a young child whimpering. I stopped everything. I didn't dare move a muscle. I willed my heart to stop pounding and my ears to stop ringing. What was that sound? I stood very still, holding my breath and I heard it again. It was the sound of a young child crying and it was getting louder. It was coming from the inside of the dark hole in the mountain. The poor thing had some how found its way behind the warning sign and must be scared in the darkness. That was it! I had to get in there.
Carefully, I put my hands on the top board and stepped up on the rickety fence. Slowly, one foot at a time, I ignored the warning signs and climbed the fence. The crying was getting louder and I heard a quiet voice plead, "Please help me. I'm scared."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I started moving at a quick pace, carefully throwing my legs one at a time over the top of the fence. Once my entire body was over the fence, I looked over my shoulder to check out the ground beneath me. More sharp rocks; I couldn't just jump off of this fence. I climbed down as quickly as possible and felt the piercing of a sliver of wood sink into my right hand. My feet wobbled; I lost my balance and fell backwards off the fence.
It took a few minutes for me to come back to awareness. My head had hit one of the sharp rocks. My hand reached for the back of my head and felt warm liquid as blood dripped through my fingers. My body hurt all over. My ears were ringing louder and my head was aching. Gently, I lifted myself to my feet and brushed off the dirt. My clothes were ripped from the rocks beneath me. Slowly I placed my feet carefully on the rocks as I started entering the darkness.
My eyes adjusted to the dark as I strained to see beyond my out reached arms. I fumbled as I moved forward and further toward the sound of the crying child. I tripped in a hole and rolled my ankle. the pain shot through and up my leg. I reached my left hand out to catch myself and felt the cool moist rock slice open my hand.
I kept walking towards the crying and whimpering child. What are they doing here? How did they get here? Who would leave a child behind in this scary, cold, desolate place?
As I slipped on the moist rocks and felt water dripping on my head, I kept walking and crying. My hands, ankle, head all hurting and now a heaviness has begun to find its way into my heart. My whole being was feeling tortured by the darkness, isolation, cold and the crying child that seems to be getting closer. The sorrow I was beginning to feel started to feel so personal. The crying seemed to be coming from me rather than from outside of me. Tears started pouring from my eyes. Memories that seemed foreign to me began playing in my head. What was going on? Why was this happening to me?
I kept walking toward the crying child, but it was hard to differentiate between their crying and my crying. My heart and chest felt like they were going to explode. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive this pain I was feeling.
I heard a sound coming from somewhere in this dark place. I jumped and screamed. What kind of monsters live in this dark place? Would they hurt me? Would they kill me? They couldn't because they haven't killed the child in here, but maybe that is why the child is crying. Maybe the unseen monsters have hurt this young child who is crying. I need to get to them to save and protect them.
Walking through this darkness, I heard voices telling me stories about intense pain. As they talked, I could feel that same pain in my body, heart and soul. I was being haunted by what felt like someone else's memories. I could smell the stench of grief; it was pungent and bitter. If I had not already been crying, my eyes would have started to water. It was so strong, I wanted to plug my nose, but it was also one of those smells that you could taste if you tried to breathe through your mouth. I gasped hoping for fresh air to breathe, but there was none.
I felt my self suffocating while I tried to walk. By now all I could hear was my own crying that had become out right wailing My body was shaking and shuttering. Every inch of my body was in pain. Every step I took over the sharp, slippery rocks sent inconceivable pain straight up my legs. My arms were so heavy, I couldn't even lift them to wipe my eyes or the snot pouring from my nose. My chest was exploding and it felt like I had nothing left to give to myself much less that child.
With my lungs burning and gasping for air, I kept my forward movement going. I had to find that abandoned child. My feet began to feel tangled and I felt myself tripping. In my despair, I had not noticed the sharp rocks had given way to tangled vines. It seemed as though these vines were deliberately trying to trip me and hold me in place. I tripped and stumbled and finally fell to my knees almost falling into a dark mirror-like pond of water.
Confused, I shook my head as if to clear the confusion from my head. I looked in the pond, and I gasped at what I saw. There was a young girl in the water! The crying child was right there in the water. But how had she survived deep in this water? How could she cry or beg for help? Was she really there?
I looked at her again. She was trapped by vines that wrapped around her body and bound her upper arms to her body. The vines wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe. I could barely breathe. My own chest felt tight and constricted.
I needed to save this little girl; somehow I needed to pull her out of the water and help her escape this pond, this cave, this grief. I reached my hand towards the water and I saw her struggle to reach out towards me. My hand dipped into the water and her hand had reached out to me but where I should have felt her hand, I only felt water. I looked again at this bound up, crying little girl and realized that she looked just like me.
Gasping from the shock of seeing this little, tortured version of me, I began to wail. I just wanted to pick her up out of the water and hold her, comfort her, and tell her it would be okay. But is it? Can I really tell her that? Was that true? Would she, I, we be okay? Right now we were both feeling bound up and trapped by this horrible experience and feeling. I sat there and cried with her. I talked to her. When I talked, she talked too. We we were one.
"Hi, Little One. How can I help you? What do you need?"
She replied, and I felt my own lips move with her words, "I need you to love and protect me. I want to feel supported by you. I need to get untied and be free to play. I want to laugh. I've been here too long. I am stuck and am slowly dieing. I am ready to return to the light; please take me."
My heart ached for her, for me, for us. "I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Than you. I promise to love you and take care of you. I will untangle both of us, set us free and walk us out of this dark, dark place."
Her face softened and I continued, "I understand we have been hurting and I have not been caring for you, me, us. And know that I love you and am doing my level best to make me stronger to protect us and love us. I will shine a light on us and the way at of this darkness. I have seen the light before, and maybe, together, we can get back there. Not only can we see it again, maybe we can shine it for others too. Would you like to do that?"
Immediately I feel the vines fall away and I see her reach her arms high to the sky. She looked, and I felt, freer than I have felt in a long time. I reached into the water to pick her up and filled my hands with water and raised my water filled hands to my head and face. The cool water washed over me and the young girl and myself were brought together. My heart felt a little lighter.
I pushed myself up from the damp ground; a bit unsteady, I wobbled. I took a deep breath, and for the first time since the clouds rolled in, my chest felt loser and breathing was easier.
Not feeling 100% myself yet, still feeling lighter than before, I contemplated how to leave the darkness. I considered where I came from. I remembered the treacherous, sharp rocks. My body still held the pain and the cuts from my journey into the darkness. I remembered how shaky and splintered that fence was. The idea of going backward sent a shiver up my spine. And the little girl voice said, "No. Do not look back. Going forward is the only way out."
My whole body hurt from the journey into this cave. My feet ached. My hands were cut. My knees were bruised. Even my own heart was still feeling a bit heavy. This journey into this grief space, into this darkness, was painful, and now I had to find the strength to get out. To move backwards was scary, but at least I knew the perils. Moving forward into the unknown was even scarier, but at least there was hope it may be easier. I would never know if I stayed here in this soft grassy place that had once held me captive with scratchy vines. It was tempting to just give in and stay here in this place. I could just stay here and sleep. There is no light to keep me awake. There are no people to distract me. I could sit here in the complete darkness and accept this place as my own. I was so tired from the journey here. What if I just slept for a little while?
I heard the voice deep inside of me. "No. To sleep for a little bit, would mean to stay in the darkness forever. Grief is meant to go through, not avoid or stay in. You must keep walking forward. Move towards the light."
As if my feet knew the way, they began to move one foot in front of the other. I held my hands out to feel my way around. It seemed as though my eyes had adjusted to the darkness because I was beginning to see better and more clearly.
The further I walked away from the mossy area around the dark pond, the harder the ground became. But there was a big difference. There were no more painfully, sharp rocks. My feet only found hard, smooth surfaces to walk on. The path leading out was wider than the path that had lead into the entrance.
As I moved forward, I felt the air get thinner and less heavy. The suffocating humidity had disappeared. I could breath easier. My skin was feeling a welcome warmth caress its surface. My heart was beginning to sing. I heard the music in my head. I could feel the vibrations of joy return to my whole body. I was lighter and was gracefully moving through to what looked like light ahead.
I thought back to the start of my day and the start of this journey. A little singing bird had brought me here into the forest. I remembered the beauty of life. I remembered the color of happiness. I remembered the vibrancy of love. I felt stronger with every step. I kept moving. There was a large opening up ahead and beautiful sunlight was passing through the rocky opening. The light danced off of the crystals that lined the walls of the cave. Happy rays of color danced and sparkled. A smile grew on my face. I was giddy with happiness and hope.
Finally, I reached the other side of grief and darkness and stepped out of the cave into love and light. I had saved the little girl that was me. Together we supported each other and loved each other enough; we trusted each other enough to guide each other out of the pit of despair that was grief and into the beautiful spring sunlight with the cool gentle breeze. I looked upon the new flowers and leaves on the trees. I smelled the sweetness of renewed life and for the first time in a long time, I laughed and played as I chased after a butterfly that escorted me through the beautiful new adventure that had become my new life.
Wednesday, April 24, 2019
April 24, 2019 A HUGE moment for me
****Warning this is going to be a LONG blog****
I am going to do my best to keep this concise and easy to read. I have 5 feelings/scenarios that I need to write about to get out of my head, and its actually one of my goals for this week for PHP. So, if you are reading this, please be patient. I appreciate your support and kindness.
Let's start with Monday night's date night and Tracy's declaration that he was going to have lunch with Suzy on Tuesday.
Tracy and I had our regularly scheduled Monday night date night. We had planned a bike ride on the greenbelt. As we were driving, Tracy said, "By the way, just to let you know, I am having lunch with Suzy and the baby tomorrow." I didn't have an issue with him having lunch with them. However, I won't lie and say I felt a little bit jealous and slightly "slighted" that he got to see the baby again, when I have yet to actually see the baby. But I was letting that go. But the tone of voice he had while mentioning the baby illicited a thought process in my head. I asked him something along the lines of, "Do you ever feel upset or like you are doing something wrong because of our connection and relationship with Jared and Tytus and we don't have that with Suzy and her baby?" At least I think it was something like that. The reason I asked is because the sound in Tracy's voice when he mentions time with little Nick is the same tone of voice he has when he gets to spend time with Tytus who *is* our grandbaby via "chosen family". Anyway, that prompted more discussion than I had really meant to get into. It resulted in Tracy saying "It is understandable if Suzy and Tom do not feel comfortable having you in their home." That cut me to the core. It really had nothing to do with what Tom and Suzy may or may not feel about me. It had EVERYTHING to do with Tracy thinking that if Tom and Suzy thought I would physically hurt them or the baby that it was understandable to him. To me, he was saying, "Martha, it is perfectly understandable if people think you are a threat. I understand why people would think that of you." Which to me meant, HE thought that way of me.
***This is where I say that neither Tom nor Suzy have said anything to him or me about them feeling like I was a physical threat. This was all *MY* thought process and story that I had built up in my head***
This was an issue between me and Tracy. And it cut me so deeply. I had already been feeling like a burden and an albatross weighing my family down. The bills from all of my mental health stuff have started rolling in, and I was feeling very guilty about the amount of money being spent on me. Now I was "being told" I was some kind of dangerous monster that is a threat to people and people are afraid of what I will do them. (There are some things that created this thought process; it didn't happen just out of the blue. But without communication with Suzy and Tom, it was very easy for me to make up stories and put them on recurring cycles that got bigger and bigger as the days went by.) After Tracy said this to me, I pretty much lost it. It took me a while to sit in my car and calm down before getting on the bike. I was seriously contemplating how I could take my bike and kill myself. If my biggest support person thought I was capable of doing physical harm to anyone, then how much hope did I actually have for being a normal, rational human being? I must really be a monster if he thought that of me. I managed to collect myself enough to get on my bike and rise slowly (for me). But I didn't talk to Tracy the entire ride, and I kept leaving him in the dust. We got to a bridge to cross the river, and I stopped for a while and watched the water. I was taking into account the deepness, the swiftness, and what was under the water that I could not see. I wondered if I could actually kill myself by jumping off of the bridge. But then I thought about the search and rescue process. I thought about how much money that would be. I thought about what would happen if I didn't actually die but ended up causing severe brain damage and became a vegetable but still alive. Then I thought about other ways to kill myself that didn't cost as much money in recovery and were less messy. Again, I went to the pills. But my pills are locked up and I do not have access to enough of them to actually kill me. And yes, I thought about my family. In the end, I got back on my bike and started writing poetry in my head. I told myself to make it through the ride, and get home and start journaling. I was going to go home, shower, take ONE Valium and sit in bed and journal and then go right to bed. That seemed like the safest idea to me. And that is what I did.
I will say that this subject came up because (in my head) I was telling myself that since I had apologized to Suzy and Tom and had already met them face to face after the apology and they *said* they wanted me to be part of their lives and meet little Nick, it had not happened yet. I would not ask them about it again because I felt like I was harassing them and begging them to be part of their lives and I felt like if they wanted me to be part of their life, they would ask me to get together again. I didn't want to push myself on them. I want them to ask me because they wanted me in their lives, not because I was harassing them to be part of their lives. To me, that made sense. But also, to me, since it had not happened, it meant that they really didn't want me in their lives. (These are stories I was making up. It has nothing to do with anything either of them said. I was kind of okay with it. I had made my peace, and I understood that I might have done too much damage. It wasn't until I mentioned it to Tracy that he said that statement and I lost it.)
***This is where I will say that the stories we tell ourselves are so very powerful and create the world we live in...whether the stories are true or not. And in this case, the stories were NOT true, but I believed them so deeply.***
So Tuesday morning, I was so upset. I really thought my marriage was over with. I didn't want to kill myself anymore, but I didn't want to be here either. I almost took out $2000 from our bank and just disappeared. *almost* Instead, I created a facebook post telling people how I was feeling and where I would be. I told people where I would be in hopes that if I didn't show up to some place where one of my friends was also supposed to be, that they would alert the cavalry. It was a way for me to stay accountable to my mental health and staying alive. I got to PHP and was a crying mess. I had to explain things to my caseworker and to the nurse. They wanted to make sure I didn't need to go back into the hospital. I assured them that I was "safe". Then at 1pm, I got a big surprise. Suzy messaged me and invited me to her home to visit her and little Nick. Knowing that I had a therapy appointment that night, I figured that afternoon after PHP would be the best time and she told me she was free. So after PHP, I drove over there.
I had to ask for her address. Ever since she moved out of the house, she has not wanted me to have her address, or at least that is what it felt like. Whenever mail came here, I would ask her if she wanted me to mail it to her and she said she would just pick it up. I felt like she was trying to hide from me for safety reasons. She never said as much, but that is what I felt. The stories started building there. So when when she asked me over, I had to ask for her address (I think she had forgotten that I didn't know where she lived. That is another indication that these were *MY* stories and not hers.) Once I found her place and parked my car, I had a short walk to her apartment. In that time frame, every step I took was a step of courage. I was so freaking scared. I started to understand what Tracy had said about them being scared to invite me over. I felt like a monster capable of horrible things. What if I DID go into her home and explode? What if I DID go into her home and become the wicked which of Boise. What if I DID go into her home and do something stupid? I mean, I am currently seeking very intensive help for a mental illness and sometimes the DID I experience is very volatile. I started thinking, "I AM a monster. I don't deserve this. I should turn around and run away and make some excuses. I can't do this." With every step that brought me closer to her apartment, I started to shake. I was terrified. I thought maybe I would have a serious conversation with Suzy about how I felt...not because she did anything wrong but because I wanted to hear from her that I was just making up stories in my head. But then ultimately, I didn't have that conversation with her. Partly because I am afraid she would confirm those thoughts and fears, and then what? What would I do in her home if she did confirm those stories? No. I was not going to bring it up. I was going to walk into her home and focus on reconnecting and holding this little baby. One thing at a time. Meeting little Nick was big enough... and scary enough without bringing up scary conversations that really didn't need to happen in that moment..especially since she was the one who invited me to her place. That was enough for me to say, "She felt safe enough to invite me over. She must not think I am that big of a monster." So I took a deep breath and knocked on her door.
She told me to "Come on in." I walked in and she was sitting on the couch feeding little Nick. I kind of took a really quick look around at her apartment that I had never been in before. Then I sat down beside her and after a bit she offered little Nick to me. She said I was welcome to feed him, sing to him, rock him, whatever.... He started to get a little bit fussy so I stood up with him and bounced and rocked him and talked to him. I had yet to say his name. I really had no idea how I was going to do that. I had no idea if I could do that without bursting into tears. Holding this little baby of Suzy and Tom's..being in an apartment that was Suzy and Tom's..was a HUGE step in truly understanding that *MY* Nick was gone and Suzy had moved on. Now there is a little Nick named after *MY* Nick, and he is in my arms. Eventually, I heard my voice speak his name as I cooed to him. I don't remember my exact words, but I remember the words, "Little Nick" tentatively roll off of my tongue, like I was just putting on my first pair of roller skates and having no idea if I was going to fall flat on my face and break something or if I was going to be able to glide away easily and with grace. Neither happened actually. I didn't break down. But it certainly didn't feel graceful. There was a very distinct feeling when I called him by name. It wasn't pain. But it wasn't ease. It was just sort of.. "It is what it is." Little Nick is a precious little baby boy with a very sweet little face. He let me hold him and coo to him for an hour and a half. He let me feed and burp him. I watched as he slept in my arms and dreamed and his little eyes moved so fast and fluttered open and shut and he cried and took deep breaths and he dreamed some kind of dream. (What do babies who are a month old dream about anyway?)
Suzy and I talked about mom stuff. I inquired about her self-care. And ya know.. just regular conversation. I told her stories about my Nick she may have never heard because there was no reason to talk about baby things with her. It was surreal. I mean, this little Nick I was holding had no relation to my Nick, and that felt so odd. It wasn't like he was going to have any of the tendencies my Nick had. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I had to keep reminding myself that this was not my Nick's baby. You would think that would be easy for me considering his urn and pictures of him and Suzy were sitting on a book shelf in front of me. But nope. It wasn't easy at all. I had to remind myself that this is a step in accepting my Nick's death. And at the same time, I have no idea what place I hold in Suzy's life or in this little baby's life. Then I had to tell myself that it doesn't really matter. Take it moment by moment. There is no reason to borrow trouble or put labels on anything. Just relax in THIS moment with this little Nick in my arms sleeping and dreaming. Relax in THIS moment of sitting here sharing baby stories with Suzy, a young woman that I love and have watched grow up...share her happiness in this moment.. share her tiredness and relate to THAT. Relate to her as she is NOW..not what used to be or what dreams I used to have. The rest will work itself out. It was bitter sweet.
Tom came home from work right as I was about to leave. He gave me a huge hug and a kiss goodbye and told me he loved me. Suzy hugged me and told me she loved me. And both of them told me I was welcome to their home to hold little Nick anytime I wanted. I felt loved and accepted. I was not a monster after all.
I left their apartment and started my walk back to my car. Tears fell from my eyes. I wasn't a monster. I was welcome in their home. They loved me. I met and held and loved little Nick. I said his name. I survived. And I started a new chapter in my life. I had to face and accept that my Nick (while remembered) is not here anymore. Now I had to go to therapy and deal with the way I felt about Tracy and what he had said to me. Another deep breath and I got in my car.
So here is the thing about me, Tracy and therapists. We have had a couple of therapists here in Idaho over the last couple of years. One in particular we were seeing for a while. I would see her alone, and then she would decide that Tracy needed to be there. But while she was working with me, she would give me one opinion about Tracy and the choices he made (based on my side of the story). She would make very big statements about what she thought needed to happen and choices Tracy need to make to make me feel safe and secure. But as soon as Tracy came into her office, she would deviate from what she told me. It was so frustrating, and it made me look like a raving lunatic. I would tell Tracy what she said, but she would never tell Tracy herself...so then that left a window open for Tracy to believe that I was lying or manipulating him.
Yesterday was previously scheduled as an appointment for Tracy to join me in therapy with my new therapist that I have loved so far. The point of him being there was so that Casey (my therapist) could hear Tracy's point of view of when the other personalities came out. He also wanted Tracy to tell him what it looked like when I am happy (since Casey has only seen me in this acute hurting stage). This appointment was NOT scheduled for couples therapy. It was NOT scheduled for me to bring up something Tracy had said that hurt me so deeply. And I was terrified that what happened with our other therapist would happen with Casey and again, I would be holding the bag looking like a raving lunatic. Though deep down, I knew that Casey was the most genuine and compassionate therapist I have ever met.
Our session started and he asked Tracy to tell him what it looks like when I am genuinely happy. I sat there and listened to Tracy explain what he sees in me when I am happy. Tears of love fell from my eyes. Tracy described knowing I was happy just by how I breathed. He described a light that shone from my eyes. He described my posture as my shoulder back and my head up. The love in which he spoke about me was palpable. I cried. He didn't describe a monster at all. He described a beautiful woman.
Later, Casey asked me what had happened to make me feel as upset as I was. Before I could express that to him, I told him how scared I was that he would "side with Tracy" and not support me. The man literally stopped in his tracks and said, "Remember on our first meeting that I said before we started EMDR you would have to trust me and I would have to trust you. Now you are here telling me that you do not trust me based on previous therapists. Lets look at this and get it cleared up." He told Tracy that I was testing both of them in that moment. I was testing Tracy to see if he really supported me and would keep me safe. And I was testing him to see if he would support me and my recovery process and stand up for me in case Tracy hurt me. He got really frank with both of us. He told finally nailed it down... He told Tracy that what I heard when he said "It's understandable that Suzy and Tom wouldn't want you in their home...." that I heard, "I am a monster and unlovable. Even Tracy thinks I am a monster and he will not keep me safe." (Or something like that) Whatever Casey said was dead on! He was so freaking correct. I have NEVER had a therapist "get me" so thoroughly. And he didn't do this in a quick fashion. He literally stopped and took some deep breaths and got very clear on the intentions of his words before he spoke them in a very calm manner. He gently gave Tracy instructions and corrections. Casey stood up for me and stood by me. I have not felt so heard and understood by a therapist in 20 years! For that matter, even Tracy was impressed by the way Casey handled the matter.
By the time our session was complete, Casey had given Tracy (and me) some very clear instructions on positive non-reactive communication. He told Tracy that what I really need is to feel heard and if I feel heard, then I will feel safe. And when I feel safe, I can heal and we can grow stronger and some of these feelings I have felt for so many years will begin to dissipate. It was so beautiful and so elegant. He suggested to Tracy that the next time I say something that Tracy normally would feel defensive about, to stop, breathe and NOT get defensive. But instead, paraphrase what I said to show he heard me and then ask clarifying questions until I can get all of my feelings out and everyone understand how I am feeling and I feel heard. It might not be easy at first, but it will work. Tracy liked the idea and I did too. I have never heard that kind of suggestion from a therapist before.. where was that piece of advise when we were going to marriage counseling? Gah!
After therapy, I went to dance. I wasn't sure I would be able to make it, but Tracy drove me and I walked in. By the time we were done, I was feeling much better. I am so thankful for dance therapy! That night, Tracy and I sat in the hot tub. Casey had given us homework. We were to sit quietly and remind each other why we love each other.. what is it that we see in each other that makes us love each other? Surprisingly it was difficult for me to do this. Partly because I have had such a rough emotional time lately. And partly cause I was put on the spot. I knew I loved my husband, but damn if I could not FEEL it in that moment much less express it. Tracy told me that if I didn't FEEL it, then it was okay to skip it. But it wasn't okay. I knew I needed to do this, and I knew that once I started, I would start to FEEL it. So I started, and sure enough, I started to FEEL it. I do love my husband so very much. But in the middle of me telling him just how much I love him, he interrupted me with some snarky comment about me posting pictures of him. He sounded downright upset and angry. I was right in the middle of telling him how much I love him and how amazing he is, and something I said made him remember that he was angry about something. He had stopped himself in mid thought, but the damage had been done. It was a total buzz kill. Normally, I would get defensive and start a fight..or continue a fight that I thought he had started. But I took a breath. I paraphrased what he had said and then I asked clarifying questions. I told him I wanted to respect his boundaries, but if I didn't clearly know what his boundaries were, that would be difficult. So we nailed down those boundaries very clearly. It was a very calm conversation. Tracy felt heard, and I felt assured that he loved me and that we could continue on with our night without fights or hurt feelings. It wasn't until AFTER that conversation ended that I realized what I had done. I realized I had practiced what Casey had told us to do. This was a HUGE representation of what I had been learning since my hospitalization. I didn't do that because of what Casey said, it was done instinctively and based on what I had learned about boundaries in PHP. I felt empowered and loving. It was an act of respect and love for Tracy. It felt amazing. We continued our night in the hot tub with some more very deep conversations that I can not now remember. But they were profound :). Oh wait.. I remember but they are a subject for another blog; this one is long enough as it is.
So there you have it...a very long blog post about 5 very important thought processes and feelings that went through my head yesterday. Healing has taken place. Not just some little scratch on my arm that closed up, but a HUGE gash in my heart that was previously thought to be terminal and unrepairable. It's a start. The grief process and healing process is in full swing... nearly 5 years after Nick was killed. But here I am. I am grateful for the forgiveness shown to me. I am grateful for the love and support given to me. I am grateful for the opportunity for me to heal and grow in so many ways. I am grateful for my counselors, my teachers, my case workers, my support system, my family, and mostly for my own courage and tenacity. This isn't easy, but I'm doing it. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your compassion. Thank you for bearing witness to my journey.
I am going to do my best to keep this concise and easy to read. I have 5 feelings/scenarios that I need to write about to get out of my head, and its actually one of my goals for this week for PHP. So, if you are reading this, please be patient. I appreciate your support and kindness.
Let's start with Monday night's date night and Tracy's declaration that he was going to have lunch with Suzy on Tuesday.
Tracy and I had our regularly scheduled Monday night date night. We had planned a bike ride on the greenbelt. As we were driving, Tracy said, "By the way, just to let you know, I am having lunch with Suzy and the baby tomorrow." I didn't have an issue with him having lunch with them. However, I won't lie and say I felt a little bit jealous and slightly "slighted" that he got to see the baby again, when I have yet to actually see the baby. But I was letting that go. But the tone of voice he had while mentioning the baby illicited a thought process in my head. I asked him something along the lines of, "Do you ever feel upset or like you are doing something wrong because of our connection and relationship with Jared and Tytus and we don't have that with Suzy and her baby?" At least I think it was something like that. The reason I asked is because the sound in Tracy's voice when he mentions time with little Nick is the same tone of voice he has when he gets to spend time with Tytus who *is* our grandbaby via "chosen family". Anyway, that prompted more discussion than I had really meant to get into. It resulted in Tracy saying "It is understandable if Suzy and Tom do not feel comfortable having you in their home." That cut me to the core. It really had nothing to do with what Tom and Suzy may or may not feel about me. It had EVERYTHING to do with Tracy thinking that if Tom and Suzy thought I would physically hurt them or the baby that it was understandable to him. To me, he was saying, "Martha, it is perfectly understandable if people think you are a threat. I understand why people would think that of you." Which to me meant, HE thought that way of me.
***This is where I say that neither Tom nor Suzy have said anything to him or me about them feeling like I was a physical threat. This was all *MY* thought process and story that I had built up in my head***
This was an issue between me and Tracy. And it cut me so deeply. I had already been feeling like a burden and an albatross weighing my family down. The bills from all of my mental health stuff have started rolling in, and I was feeling very guilty about the amount of money being spent on me. Now I was "being told" I was some kind of dangerous monster that is a threat to people and people are afraid of what I will do them. (There are some things that created this thought process; it didn't happen just out of the blue. But without communication with Suzy and Tom, it was very easy for me to make up stories and put them on recurring cycles that got bigger and bigger as the days went by.) After Tracy said this to me, I pretty much lost it. It took me a while to sit in my car and calm down before getting on the bike. I was seriously contemplating how I could take my bike and kill myself. If my biggest support person thought I was capable of doing physical harm to anyone, then how much hope did I actually have for being a normal, rational human being? I must really be a monster if he thought that of me. I managed to collect myself enough to get on my bike and rise slowly (for me). But I didn't talk to Tracy the entire ride, and I kept leaving him in the dust. We got to a bridge to cross the river, and I stopped for a while and watched the water. I was taking into account the deepness, the swiftness, and what was under the water that I could not see. I wondered if I could actually kill myself by jumping off of the bridge. But then I thought about the search and rescue process. I thought about how much money that would be. I thought about what would happen if I didn't actually die but ended up causing severe brain damage and became a vegetable but still alive. Then I thought about other ways to kill myself that didn't cost as much money in recovery and were less messy. Again, I went to the pills. But my pills are locked up and I do not have access to enough of them to actually kill me. And yes, I thought about my family. In the end, I got back on my bike and started writing poetry in my head. I told myself to make it through the ride, and get home and start journaling. I was going to go home, shower, take ONE Valium and sit in bed and journal and then go right to bed. That seemed like the safest idea to me. And that is what I did.
I will say that this subject came up because (in my head) I was telling myself that since I had apologized to Suzy and Tom and had already met them face to face after the apology and they *said* they wanted me to be part of their lives and meet little Nick, it had not happened yet. I would not ask them about it again because I felt like I was harassing them and begging them to be part of their lives and I felt like if they wanted me to be part of their life, they would ask me to get together again. I didn't want to push myself on them. I want them to ask me because they wanted me in their lives, not because I was harassing them to be part of their lives. To me, that made sense. But also, to me, since it had not happened, it meant that they really didn't want me in their lives. (These are stories I was making up. It has nothing to do with anything either of them said. I was kind of okay with it. I had made my peace, and I understood that I might have done too much damage. It wasn't until I mentioned it to Tracy that he said that statement and I lost it.)
***This is where I will say that the stories we tell ourselves are so very powerful and create the world we live in...whether the stories are true or not. And in this case, the stories were NOT true, but I believed them so deeply.***
So Tuesday morning, I was so upset. I really thought my marriage was over with. I didn't want to kill myself anymore, but I didn't want to be here either. I almost took out $2000 from our bank and just disappeared. *almost* Instead, I created a facebook post telling people how I was feeling and where I would be. I told people where I would be in hopes that if I didn't show up to some place where one of my friends was also supposed to be, that they would alert the cavalry. It was a way for me to stay accountable to my mental health and staying alive. I got to PHP and was a crying mess. I had to explain things to my caseworker and to the nurse. They wanted to make sure I didn't need to go back into the hospital. I assured them that I was "safe". Then at 1pm, I got a big surprise. Suzy messaged me and invited me to her home to visit her and little Nick. Knowing that I had a therapy appointment that night, I figured that afternoon after PHP would be the best time and she told me she was free. So after PHP, I drove over there.
I had to ask for her address. Ever since she moved out of the house, she has not wanted me to have her address, or at least that is what it felt like. Whenever mail came here, I would ask her if she wanted me to mail it to her and she said she would just pick it up. I felt like she was trying to hide from me for safety reasons. She never said as much, but that is what I felt. The stories started building there. So when when she asked me over, I had to ask for her address (I think she had forgotten that I didn't know where she lived. That is another indication that these were *MY* stories and not hers.) Once I found her place and parked my car, I had a short walk to her apartment. In that time frame, every step I took was a step of courage. I was so freaking scared. I started to understand what Tracy had said about them being scared to invite me over. I felt like a monster capable of horrible things. What if I DID go into her home and explode? What if I DID go into her home and become the wicked which of Boise. What if I DID go into her home and do something stupid? I mean, I am currently seeking very intensive help for a mental illness and sometimes the DID I experience is very volatile. I started thinking, "I AM a monster. I don't deserve this. I should turn around and run away and make some excuses. I can't do this." With every step that brought me closer to her apartment, I started to shake. I was terrified. I thought maybe I would have a serious conversation with Suzy about how I felt...not because she did anything wrong but because I wanted to hear from her that I was just making up stories in my head. But then ultimately, I didn't have that conversation with her. Partly because I am afraid she would confirm those thoughts and fears, and then what? What would I do in her home if she did confirm those stories? No. I was not going to bring it up. I was going to walk into her home and focus on reconnecting and holding this little baby. One thing at a time. Meeting little Nick was big enough... and scary enough without bringing up scary conversations that really didn't need to happen in that moment..especially since she was the one who invited me to her place. That was enough for me to say, "She felt safe enough to invite me over. She must not think I am that big of a monster." So I took a deep breath and knocked on her door.
She told me to "Come on in." I walked in and she was sitting on the couch feeding little Nick. I kind of took a really quick look around at her apartment that I had never been in before. Then I sat down beside her and after a bit she offered little Nick to me. She said I was welcome to feed him, sing to him, rock him, whatever.... He started to get a little bit fussy so I stood up with him and bounced and rocked him and talked to him. I had yet to say his name. I really had no idea how I was going to do that. I had no idea if I could do that without bursting into tears. Holding this little baby of Suzy and Tom's..being in an apartment that was Suzy and Tom's..was a HUGE step in truly understanding that *MY* Nick was gone and Suzy had moved on. Now there is a little Nick named after *MY* Nick, and he is in my arms. Eventually, I heard my voice speak his name as I cooed to him. I don't remember my exact words, but I remember the words, "Little Nick" tentatively roll off of my tongue, like I was just putting on my first pair of roller skates and having no idea if I was going to fall flat on my face and break something or if I was going to be able to glide away easily and with grace. Neither happened actually. I didn't break down. But it certainly didn't feel graceful. There was a very distinct feeling when I called him by name. It wasn't pain. But it wasn't ease. It was just sort of.. "It is what it is." Little Nick is a precious little baby boy with a very sweet little face. He let me hold him and coo to him for an hour and a half. He let me feed and burp him. I watched as he slept in my arms and dreamed and his little eyes moved so fast and fluttered open and shut and he cried and took deep breaths and he dreamed some kind of dream. (What do babies who are a month old dream about anyway?)
Suzy and I talked about mom stuff. I inquired about her self-care. And ya know.. just regular conversation. I told her stories about my Nick she may have never heard because there was no reason to talk about baby things with her. It was surreal. I mean, this little Nick I was holding had no relation to my Nick, and that felt so odd. It wasn't like he was going to have any of the tendencies my Nick had. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I had to keep reminding myself that this was not my Nick's baby. You would think that would be easy for me considering his urn and pictures of him and Suzy were sitting on a book shelf in front of me. But nope. It wasn't easy at all. I had to remind myself that this is a step in accepting my Nick's death. And at the same time, I have no idea what place I hold in Suzy's life or in this little baby's life. Then I had to tell myself that it doesn't really matter. Take it moment by moment. There is no reason to borrow trouble or put labels on anything. Just relax in THIS moment with this little Nick in my arms sleeping and dreaming. Relax in THIS moment of sitting here sharing baby stories with Suzy, a young woman that I love and have watched grow up...share her happiness in this moment.. share her tiredness and relate to THAT. Relate to her as she is NOW..not what used to be or what dreams I used to have. The rest will work itself out. It was bitter sweet.
Tom came home from work right as I was about to leave. He gave me a huge hug and a kiss goodbye and told me he loved me. Suzy hugged me and told me she loved me. And both of them told me I was welcome to their home to hold little Nick anytime I wanted. I felt loved and accepted. I was not a monster after all.
I left their apartment and started my walk back to my car. Tears fell from my eyes. I wasn't a monster. I was welcome in their home. They loved me. I met and held and loved little Nick. I said his name. I survived. And I started a new chapter in my life. I had to face and accept that my Nick (while remembered) is not here anymore. Now I had to go to therapy and deal with the way I felt about Tracy and what he had said to me. Another deep breath and I got in my car.
So here is the thing about me, Tracy and therapists. We have had a couple of therapists here in Idaho over the last couple of years. One in particular we were seeing for a while. I would see her alone, and then she would decide that Tracy needed to be there. But while she was working with me, she would give me one opinion about Tracy and the choices he made (based on my side of the story). She would make very big statements about what she thought needed to happen and choices Tracy need to make to make me feel safe and secure. But as soon as Tracy came into her office, she would deviate from what she told me. It was so frustrating, and it made me look like a raving lunatic. I would tell Tracy what she said, but she would never tell Tracy herself...so then that left a window open for Tracy to believe that I was lying or manipulating him.
Yesterday was previously scheduled as an appointment for Tracy to join me in therapy with my new therapist that I have loved so far. The point of him being there was so that Casey (my therapist) could hear Tracy's point of view of when the other personalities came out. He also wanted Tracy to tell him what it looked like when I am happy (since Casey has only seen me in this acute hurting stage). This appointment was NOT scheduled for couples therapy. It was NOT scheduled for me to bring up something Tracy had said that hurt me so deeply. And I was terrified that what happened with our other therapist would happen with Casey and again, I would be holding the bag looking like a raving lunatic. Though deep down, I knew that Casey was the most genuine and compassionate therapist I have ever met.
Our session started and he asked Tracy to tell him what it looks like when I am genuinely happy. I sat there and listened to Tracy explain what he sees in me when I am happy. Tears of love fell from my eyes. Tracy described knowing I was happy just by how I breathed. He described a light that shone from my eyes. He described my posture as my shoulder back and my head up. The love in which he spoke about me was palpable. I cried. He didn't describe a monster at all. He described a beautiful woman.
Later, Casey asked me what had happened to make me feel as upset as I was. Before I could express that to him, I told him how scared I was that he would "side with Tracy" and not support me. The man literally stopped in his tracks and said, "Remember on our first meeting that I said before we started EMDR you would have to trust me and I would have to trust you. Now you are here telling me that you do not trust me based on previous therapists. Lets look at this and get it cleared up." He told Tracy that I was testing both of them in that moment. I was testing Tracy to see if he really supported me and would keep me safe. And I was testing him to see if he would support me and my recovery process and stand up for me in case Tracy hurt me. He got really frank with both of us. He told finally nailed it down... He told Tracy that what I heard when he said "It's understandable that Suzy and Tom wouldn't want you in their home...." that I heard, "I am a monster and unlovable. Even Tracy thinks I am a monster and he will not keep me safe." (Or something like that) Whatever Casey said was dead on! He was so freaking correct. I have NEVER had a therapist "get me" so thoroughly. And he didn't do this in a quick fashion. He literally stopped and took some deep breaths and got very clear on the intentions of his words before he spoke them in a very calm manner. He gently gave Tracy instructions and corrections. Casey stood up for me and stood by me. I have not felt so heard and understood by a therapist in 20 years! For that matter, even Tracy was impressed by the way Casey handled the matter.
By the time our session was complete, Casey had given Tracy (and me) some very clear instructions on positive non-reactive communication. He told Tracy that what I really need is to feel heard and if I feel heard, then I will feel safe. And when I feel safe, I can heal and we can grow stronger and some of these feelings I have felt for so many years will begin to dissipate. It was so beautiful and so elegant. He suggested to Tracy that the next time I say something that Tracy normally would feel defensive about, to stop, breathe and NOT get defensive. But instead, paraphrase what I said to show he heard me and then ask clarifying questions until I can get all of my feelings out and everyone understand how I am feeling and I feel heard. It might not be easy at first, but it will work. Tracy liked the idea and I did too. I have never heard that kind of suggestion from a therapist before.. where was that piece of advise when we were going to marriage counseling? Gah!
After therapy, I went to dance. I wasn't sure I would be able to make it, but Tracy drove me and I walked in. By the time we were done, I was feeling much better. I am so thankful for dance therapy! That night, Tracy and I sat in the hot tub. Casey had given us homework. We were to sit quietly and remind each other why we love each other.. what is it that we see in each other that makes us love each other? Surprisingly it was difficult for me to do this. Partly because I have had such a rough emotional time lately. And partly cause I was put on the spot. I knew I loved my husband, but damn if I could not FEEL it in that moment much less express it. Tracy told me that if I didn't FEEL it, then it was okay to skip it. But it wasn't okay. I knew I needed to do this, and I knew that once I started, I would start to FEEL it. So I started, and sure enough, I started to FEEL it. I do love my husband so very much. But in the middle of me telling him just how much I love him, he interrupted me with some snarky comment about me posting pictures of him. He sounded downright upset and angry. I was right in the middle of telling him how much I love him and how amazing he is, and something I said made him remember that he was angry about something. He had stopped himself in mid thought, but the damage had been done. It was a total buzz kill. Normally, I would get defensive and start a fight..or continue a fight that I thought he had started. But I took a breath. I paraphrased what he had said and then I asked clarifying questions. I told him I wanted to respect his boundaries, but if I didn't clearly know what his boundaries were, that would be difficult. So we nailed down those boundaries very clearly. It was a very calm conversation. Tracy felt heard, and I felt assured that he loved me and that we could continue on with our night without fights or hurt feelings. It wasn't until AFTER that conversation ended that I realized what I had done. I realized I had practiced what Casey had told us to do. This was a HUGE representation of what I had been learning since my hospitalization. I didn't do that because of what Casey said, it was done instinctively and based on what I had learned about boundaries in PHP. I felt empowered and loving. It was an act of respect and love for Tracy. It felt amazing. We continued our night in the hot tub with some more very deep conversations that I can not now remember. But they were profound :). Oh wait.. I remember but they are a subject for another blog; this one is long enough as it is.
So there you have it...a very long blog post about 5 very important thought processes and feelings that went through my head yesterday. Healing has taken place. Not just some little scratch on my arm that closed up, but a HUGE gash in my heart that was previously thought to be terminal and unrepairable. It's a start. The grief process and healing process is in full swing... nearly 5 years after Nick was killed. But here I am. I am grateful for the forgiveness shown to me. I am grateful for the love and support given to me. I am grateful for the opportunity for me to heal and grow in so many ways. I am grateful for my counselors, my teachers, my case workers, my support system, my family, and mostly for my own courage and tenacity. This isn't easy, but I'm doing it. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your compassion. Thank you for bearing witness to my journey.
Sunday, April 14, 2019
April 14, 2019 Changing My Thoughts and Beliefs through REBT
I have been posting on Facebook about all that I am learning in my Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP) at Intermountain Hospital. I have been talking in generalities about subjects, and a friend of mine saw me in person and asked me to share more specifics about what I am learning. So that is what I am doing today.
One of the things that really has made a difference in my healing process and living my lie is a process called Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT). This process walks a person through an event that happened, their thoughts/beliefs about that event, their feelings about the event, and the behaviors that come from those thoughts/beliefs and emotions about the event. Once those have been written down, then we do the whole process over again, exchanging our thoughts/beliefs to more rational beliefs, and what we would feel and how we would behave based on those new thoughts and beliefs.
I first learned about this process while I was in inpatient care in the ICU at the psych ward at Intermountain Hospital. When I was first taught about it, I thought the event had to be an actual physical event like someone cutting me off in traffic. But in PHP I learned that you can REBT anything, including a thought of depression, as an event. Learning that blew my mind!
So here are a couple of practical examples, I will use what happened last night as I was in line for a show. It is actually much like being cut off in traffic.
EVENT: I stood in line for 2 hours to get good seats to a show. My husband and I were 3rd and 4th in line, when the people who were 1st and 2nd were actually allowing people (who came in and hour or 15 minutes till door opening) to join them in line and planned on saving 3 rows of seats for friends who were not even there yet. When talking with the man, he actually said he would fight people who tried to cut in front of him in line (when he said that, he didn't mention that he had planned on letting 10 to 15 people in front of us).
THOUGHTS/BELIEFS: I am not worthy. I am unimportant. I am not valid. My place in this world is not visible. Speaking up and stating my observations and truth would get me hurt either or both emotionally and physically. I am not worth stating my truth. My time is not as valuable as others. It's okay to be walked all over if it means keeping the peace and avoiding confrontation. I am weak. I am worthless. I am invisible.
FEELINGS: Intimidated, Scared, Fearful, Unworthy, Small, Tense, Unsure, Irritated, Angry, Desperate, Raging, Livid, Resentful, Dejected, Heavy
BEHAVIOR: Panic attack, physically shaky, blood pressure rises, chest pains, yelling profanities
So that is the "old way" of thinking.. here is what I replace it with...
EVENT: The same
THOUGHTS/BELIEFS: No one is entitled to any specific seat. There are plenty of seats, even if I don't get my favorite seat. I am strong and worthy of speaking my truth, regardless of the outcome. My time is as valuable as others, and if I was willing to do the time and do what is right by my own guage of fairness, then I am an ethical person and following my own standards which makes me an amazing human being..one worth loving and one worth being seen by others. I am strong. I am as worthy of a good seat as the others in the line. I am a loving, kind, patient and peaceful human being.
FEELINGS: Strong, Worthy, Peaceful, Compassionate, Tenacious, Assertive, Determined, Dynamic, Empowered, Joyful, Understanding, Optimistic
BEHAVIOR: Assertive conversation, standing up for my belief, calm demeanor, easy breathing, peacefully walking away from aggressive behavior.
This whole process is about changing thought and beliefs patterns to empower the person and create new thought patterns that will help a person live a more peaceful, assertive life.
One of the things that really has made a difference in my healing process and living my lie is a process called Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT). This process walks a person through an event that happened, their thoughts/beliefs about that event, their feelings about the event, and the behaviors that come from those thoughts/beliefs and emotions about the event. Once those have been written down, then we do the whole process over again, exchanging our thoughts/beliefs to more rational beliefs, and what we would feel and how we would behave based on those new thoughts and beliefs.
I first learned about this process while I was in inpatient care in the ICU at the psych ward at Intermountain Hospital. When I was first taught about it, I thought the event had to be an actual physical event like someone cutting me off in traffic. But in PHP I learned that you can REBT anything, including a thought of depression, as an event. Learning that blew my mind!
So here are a couple of practical examples, I will use what happened last night as I was in line for a show. It is actually much like being cut off in traffic.
EVENT: I stood in line for 2 hours to get good seats to a show. My husband and I were 3rd and 4th in line, when the people who were 1st and 2nd were actually allowing people (who came in and hour or 15 minutes till door opening) to join them in line and planned on saving 3 rows of seats for friends who were not even there yet. When talking with the man, he actually said he would fight people who tried to cut in front of him in line (when he said that, he didn't mention that he had planned on letting 10 to 15 people in front of us).
THOUGHTS/BELIEFS: I am not worthy. I am unimportant. I am not valid. My place in this world is not visible. Speaking up and stating my observations and truth would get me hurt either or both emotionally and physically. I am not worth stating my truth. My time is not as valuable as others. It's okay to be walked all over if it means keeping the peace and avoiding confrontation. I am weak. I am worthless. I am invisible.
FEELINGS: Intimidated, Scared, Fearful, Unworthy, Small, Tense, Unsure, Irritated, Angry, Desperate, Raging, Livid, Resentful, Dejected, Heavy
BEHAVIOR: Panic attack, physically shaky, blood pressure rises, chest pains, yelling profanities
So that is the "old way" of thinking.. here is what I replace it with...
EVENT: The same
THOUGHTS/BELIEFS: No one is entitled to any specific seat. There are plenty of seats, even if I don't get my favorite seat. I am strong and worthy of speaking my truth, regardless of the outcome. My time is as valuable as others, and if I was willing to do the time and do what is right by my own guage of fairness, then I am an ethical person and following my own standards which makes me an amazing human being..one worth loving and one worth being seen by others. I am strong. I am as worthy of a good seat as the others in the line. I am a loving, kind, patient and peaceful human being.
FEELINGS: Strong, Worthy, Peaceful, Compassionate, Tenacious, Assertive, Determined, Dynamic, Empowered, Joyful, Understanding, Optimistic
BEHAVIOR: Assertive conversation, standing up for my belief, calm demeanor, easy breathing, peacefully walking away from aggressive behavior.
This whole process is about changing thought and beliefs patterns to empower the person and create new thought patterns that will help a person live a more peaceful, assertive life.
Sunday, April 7, 2019
April 7, 2018 Building a Bridge
Today has been a very emotional day. First I had one hell of a nightmare early this morning. It scared the hell out of me. I dreamed I was in some kind of group/class setting and one of my personalities (the violent one who tries to kill me) came out and no one believed me that it was real. It was a horrible experience. I mean, its a horrible experience in real life when it comes to visit. But this is the first time, that my DID has crept into my dream state, and I was terrified I would not be able to wake up and be ME. I was so scared of losing myself completely.
I have spent a good chunk of my day trying to not just shake that mood and that dream, but also doing my work for my program. I started reading a book called Trauma And The Unbound Body. It looks interesting so far. It's a little on the metaphysical side.. well not just a little.. so we shall see. That stuff is usually right up my alley, but for some reason I am feeling some resistance. I also read a rather long hand out I picked up from PHP on Bipolar. I need to get a handle on the information and understand what is going on in my head. I had no idea there were more than one type of bipolar. I decided to keep a journal of my moods to see if I can figure out what is going on (or at least help my doctors figure it out). I'm not sure I am completely stable enough to make any real prognosis right now.
Then it was time for dinner.....
When I was in inpatient care at Intermountain, I wrote Suzy a letter apologizing for so many things I had said and my behaviors. I asked if we could find a way (if she wanted and only if she wanted) to build a bridge and heal our family. Tracy delivered it, and she and Tom were receptive. Well today we met for dinner. It was just the 4 of us. I was hoping to meet the baby, but they are not taking him out to restaurants right now. I get it. I've had newborns before. We chatted and had a nice dinner. It's a start. I brought her a gift for the baby. I made the baby a rubber ducky blanket and gave her the book Dragons Like Tacos. After dinner, she handed me a bag... it had 4 mason jars filled with Nick's remains.
We started building that bridge. It's emotional. It's awkward. It's healing. I have no idea where this will take us, but I will say that I am eternally grateful for their forgiveness and their loving kindness in creating individual jars of remains for our family. It means the world to me, and to the rest of the family.
I told Suzy that I would never talk bad about her on my blog ever again or mention her name unless I was praising her.. and that is what I am doing. I am grateful for her forgiveness and her kindness. Suzy, if you reading this, thank you and I love you.
I have spent a good chunk of my day trying to not just shake that mood and that dream, but also doing my work for my program. I started reading a book called Trauma And The Unbound Body. It looks interesting so far. It's a little on the metaphysical side.. well not just a little.. so we shall see. That stuff is usually right up my alley, but for some reason I am feeling some resistance. I also read a rather long hand out I picked up from PHP on Bipolar. I need to get a handle on the information and understand what is going on in my head. I had no idea there were more than one type of bipolar. I decided to keep a journal of my moods to see if I can figure out what is going on (or at least help my doctors figure it out). I'm not sure I am completely stable enough to make any real prognosis right now.
Then it was time for dinner.....
When I was in inpatient care at Intermountain, I wrote Suzy a letter apologizing for so many things I had said and my behaviors. I asked if we could find a way (if she wanted and only if she wanted) to build a bridge and heal our family. Tracy delivered it, and she and Tom were receptive. Well today we met for dinner. It was just the 4 of us. I was hoping to meet the baby, but they are not taking him out to restaurants right now. I get it. I've had newborns before. We chatted and had a nice dinner. It's a start. I brought her a gift for the baby. I made the baby a rubber ducky blanket and gave her the book Dragons Like Tacos. After dinner, she handed me a bag... it had 4 mason jars filled with Nick's remains.
We started building that bridge. It's emotional. It's awkward. It's healing. I have no idea where this will take us, but I will say that I am eternally grateful for their forgiveness and their loving kindness in creating individual jars of remains for our family. It means the world to me, and to the rest of the family.
I told Suzy that I would never talk bad about her on my blog ever again or mention her name unless I was praising her.. and that is what I am doing. I am grateful for her forgiveness and her kindness. Suzy, if you reading this, thank you and I love you.
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
April 2, 2019 New Diagnosis..New Meds...This week is hard.
So months ago, I had a doctor's appointment.. just my yearly well human check up. While I was there, I asked the doctor to refer me to a Psychiatrist to double check my diagnosis and meds and I also asked for an MRI on my brain since no one has scanned my brain with my brain injuries. The MRI had to be rescheduled cause of my recent hospitalization, but my psychiatrist appointment was today.
There were several reasons I wanted this appointment. I had been feeling like maybe I had a wrong diagnosis or at least the meds that the doctors had been giving me for depression were not working, and that maybe something else was going on, but I didn't really know what. Then I had this recent hospitalization. While I was in the hospital, I began to really look at my mental health history. I began to question things. I began to see things a bit more clearly. I asked the psychiatrists there if maybe I was bipolar. They asked me a couple of questions and told me that I might be on to something, but my visit with my new psych would be able to help. In the mean time, they upped the dosage of my antidepressant that obviously was not working, and they gave me another medicine for sleeping (which I didn't think I needed and it doesn't help either).
Having been through 2 hospitalizations in 7 months and now in the PHP program for my mental health, I am seeing mental illnesses of all kinds, and quite frankly, it scares me. I have talked to so many people and heard their stories and witnessed some of their experience. Last night, I cried in the hot tub and expressed my deepest fear. I am scared. I have heard people talk about going in and out of the hospital. I have heard them talk about being frequent fliers. I have heard them talk about how long they have been with PHP or the next step down is IOP. For some of these people, they have been in this program for over a year. Some stay in IOP for a year and then end up in the hospital again for various reasons then get released to PHP again. Some use ALL of their vacation time or may even be losing their job in order to take care of their mental health. This seems to be a never ending battle for them. The ones with bipolar are the ones who struggle the most. Med changes can throw them into crisis so they put themselves in the hospital while they adjust. Some just can't cope and end up in the hospital. This is a life long thing. Some are on disability for their mental health issues. I told Tracy last night that I was scared. I was scared that I will never get better. I was scared that what I experience is life altering and will have me going in and out of hospitals the rest of my life. He did his best to reassure me. "You will get over this. It will be okay. This is only temporary. You are getting the help you need. You will feel better in time." I still felt scared. What if my happiest years were just "lies". What if 2011-2013 were just years of complete mania? What if I don't know what happy looks like and feels like?
So today, I put on my big girl panties and went to the psychiatrist. I had Tracy go with me. I need a second brain to remember everything. Its a good thing he was there, because there were questions that I could not remember the answers to and he was able to answer the questions. As a matter of fact, the knowledge he has of me from the age of 14 was very helpful. How many people can say they have someone who knows them that well and that long? Anyway, after all was said and done, the psychiatrist asked me if anyone has ever mentioned me being bipolar. I told her "no, but I had been wondering if that was what was going on". Apparently that is the correct diagnosis on top of Dissociative Identity Disorder and Complicated Grief and PTSD. Yay me! However, I am NOT depressed and the antidepressant that has been prescribed to me is actually hurting my mental health, and so is that sleeping med they prescribed to me. So we are weening me off of the anti depressant and we have new meds on board. What they gave me is an anti-seizure med that is prescribed with people who have brain injuries and bi-polar. She also insisted I keep my MRI appointment, and she was glad that I had made all of these appointments to take care of myself BEFORE my hospitalization.
So what I had suspected, but really didn't want has just happened. Part of me wonders if this is real, or if this is something that I created out of "law of attraction" stuff. Or if maybe the thoughts I had been having was my inner Self saying, "You have bigger issues, its time to look at it." I don't know. But I can tell you that I am scared. While I have always had empathy for those with bi-polar, I have been the person who kind of avoids getting close to people with it. Mostly because I have had so much trauma and so many issues of my own that being that close and available to people with bi-polar seemed impossible to me. Now I am that person. I am the person I have been avoiding. Who will be avoiding me now? Who has been avoiding me? I know people have. I have had people say that my mental state has scared them and they can't be friends with us anymore.
I cried to Tracy after my diagnosis. I said, "I told you this was never going away and its permanent!" He hugged me. He reassured me that this is good news..it means I am getting the treatment I am suppose to have and now we can face this head on and not play the guessing game anymore. He was proud of me for taking the steps before my hospitalization to seek the help. He tells me he loves me and he doesn't see a "sick person" when he looks at me, he only sees the Martha that he knows and loves. He assures me he will stay by my side. All I can do is be grateful for his love and support. How he has stayed with me all of these years with an undiagnosed mental illness that could have destroyed us, I will never know. I have owed him my life several times over. He has saved me from committing suicide so many times. I would not be here without him. It's just that simple. But man...what a drain I must be on the guy.
Today has been hard. This week has been hard. I realize its only Tuesday. I have been struggling. Nick's birthday is Thursday...that is not lost on me. I'm grateful that I will be in PHP that day. But it's not stopping the pain I feel. I almost checked myself in to the hospital today after getting my diagnosis. But instead, I am here blogging. I am doing my mental health homework. And I will force myself to go to dance. I picked up my new meds and took them, and then I had an instant head ache that feels like a blood pressure headache. I don't know if that has anything to do with the new meds or not. It could just be panic. So I will breathe it out.
I guess I should count my blessings that I have survived this kind of undiagnosed mental health challenge to the age of 49 ...nearly 50... years old. I guess I am stronger than I think I am, and I am quite the fighter. Here's to getting stronger and healthier.
There were several reasons I wanted this appointment. I had been feeling like maybe I had a wrong diagnosis or at least the meds that the doctors had been giving me for depression were not working, and that maybe something else was going on, but I didn't really know what. Then I had this recent hospitalization. While I was in the hospital, I began to really look at my mental health history. I began to question things. I began to see things a bit more clearly. I asked the psychiatrists there if maybe I was bipolar. They asked me a couple of questions and told me that I might be on to something, but my visit with my new psych would be able to help. In the mean time, they upped the dosage of my antidepressant that obviously was not working, and they gave me another medicine for sleeping (which I didn't think I needed and it doesn't help either).
Having been through 2 hospitalizations in 7 months and now in the PHP program for my mental health, I am seeing mental illnesses of all kinds, and quite frankly, it scares me. I have talked to so many people and heard their stories and witnessed some of their experience. Last night, I cried in the hot tub and expressed my deepest fear. I am scared. I have heard people talk about going in and out of the hospital. I have heard them talk about being frequent fliers. I have heard them talk about how long they have been with PHP or the next step down is IOP. For some of these people, they have been in this program for over a year. Some stay in IOP for a year and then end up in the hospital again for various reasons then get released to PHP again. Some use ALL of their vacation time or may even be losing their job in order to take care of their mental health. This seems to be a never ending battle for them. The ones with bipolar are the ones who struggle the most. Med changes can throw them into crisis so they put themselves in the hospital while they adjust. Some just can't cope and end up in the hospital. This is a life long thing. Some are on disability for their mental health issues. I told Tracy last night that I was scared. I was scared that I will never get better. I was scared that what I experience is life altering and will have me going in and out of hospitals the rest of my life. He did his best to reassure me. "You will get over this. It will be okay. This is only temporary. You are getting the help you need. You will feel better in time." I still felt scared. What if my happiest years were just "lies". What if 2011-2013 were just years of complete mania? What if I don't know what happy looks like and feels like?
So today, I put on my big girl panties and went to the psychiatrist. I had Tracy go with me. I need a second brain to remember everything. Its a good thing he was there, because there were questions that I could not remember the answers to and he was able to answer the questions. As a matter of fact, the knowledge he has of me from the age of 14 was very helpful. How many people can say they have someone who knows them that well and that long? Anyway, after all was said and done, the psychiatrist asked me if anyone has ever mentioned me being bipolar. I told her "no, but I had been wondering if that was what was going on". Apparently that is the correct diagnosis on top of Dissociative Identity Disorder and Complicated Grief and PTSD. Yay me! However, I am NOT depressed and the antidepressant that has been prescribed to me is actually hurting my mental health, and so is that sleeping med they prescribed to me. So we are weening me off of the anti depressant and we have new meds on board. What they gave me is an anti-seizure med that is prescribed with people who have brain injuries and bi-polar. She also insisted I keep my MRI appointment, and she was glad that I had made all of these appointments to take care of myself BEFORE my hospitalization.
So what I had suspected, but really didn't want has just happened. Part of me wonders if this is real, or if this is something that I created out of "law of attraction" stuff. Or if maybe the thoughts I had been having was my inner Self saying, "You have bigger issues, its time to look at it." I don't know. But I can tell you that I am scared. While I have always had empathy for those with bi-polar, I have been the person who kind of avoids getting close to people with it. Mostly because I have had so much trauma and so many issues of my own that being that close and available to people with bi-polar seemed impossible to me. Now I am that person. I am the person I have been avoiding. Who will be avoiding me now? Who has been avoiding me? I know people have. I have had people say that my mental state has scared them and they can't be friends with us anymore.
I cried to Tracy after my diagnosis. I said, "I told you this was never going away and its permanent!" He hugged me. He reassured me that this is good news..it means I am getting the treatment I am suppose to have and now we can face this head on and not play the guessing game anymore. He was proud of me for taking the steps before my hospitalization to seek the help. He tells me he loves me and he doesn't see a "sick person" when he looks at me, he only sees the Martha that he knows and loves. He assures me he will stay by my side. All I can do is be grateful for his love and support. How he has stayed with me all of these years with an undiagnosed mental illness that could have destroyed us, I will never know. I have owed him my life several times over. He has saved me from committing suicide so many times. I would not be here without him. It's just that simple. But man...what a drain I must be on the guy.
Today has been hard. This week has been hard. I realize its only Tuesday. I have been struggling. Nick's birthday is Thursday...that is not lost on me. I'm grateful that I will be in PHP that day. But it's not stopping the pain I feel. I almost checked myself in to the hospital today after getting my diagnosis. But instead, I am here blogging. I am doing my mental health homework. And I will force myself to go to dance. I picked up my new meds and took them, and then I had an instant head ache that feels like a blood pressure headache. I don't know if that has anything to do with the new meds or not. It could just be panic. So I will breathe it out.
I guess I should count my blessings that I have survived this kind of undiagnosed mental health challenge to the age of 49 ...nearly 50... years old. I guess I am stronger than I think I am, and I am quite the fighter. Here's to getting stronger and healthier.
Monday, April 1, 2019
April 1, 2019 Day 4 of Partial Hospitalization Program...lots to think about.
When I was released from the hospital, I was feeling great. But it didn't take long (like a few hours) for me to start getting angry again. Tracy and I had an argument that night. The next day, which was a Friday, we agreed that the weekend would be free of any talk of why I went into the hospital or anything like that. That first weekend out of the hospital was peaceful. By Sunday night, we could talk again, and things were going okay. But I was still feeling shaky. I was told I could start PHP on the next Wednesday. I just needed to make it 2 more days. Those were 2 very hard days for me. I was so happy to start PHP. I'm not gonna lie. It's hard. Sometimes it's very hard.
I just completed day 4 of PHP. I feel stronger since starting, but I am not sure I am strong enough to be released yet. I have 6 more days of PHP covered by insurance, then we will discuss it further. But what I am getting right now is a kind of double edged sword. It is painful and helpful all at the same time. Opening up the closets where my monsters live and taking a good long scary look at them is a bit horrifying, but realizing that they really aren't that scary after all helps. They are like gremlins.. totally cute and adorable as long as you treat them properly. But the minute I mistreat them, they become those ugly angry things that we call monsters. So what kind of gremlins do I have living in my closet? Well, Grief is a given. But I also have some named Guilt, Blame, Anxiety, Rage, Depression, PTSD, DID, Jealousy and so many more. PHP allows me to open the door of this closet, with a support person beside me. The support person is there to have my back in case it gets ugly. But mostly, they are just there to witness my interaction with each of the gremlins. They cheer me on and support me as I get to know these gremlins and hear their stories and find out how to care for them so that they don't turn into the ugly gremlins that are mistreated. It's a scary process. It's a healthy process. It's a painful process. And it feels good in the end.
A day in PHP is filled with 4 group meetings and lunch. The first meeting is Goals, Affirmations, and Gratitude; its just to check in on everyone for the day and do a roll call. The 2nd meeting time holds two spots and could be about anything, but on Tues/Wed/Thursdays there is a "Trauma" group with a 2nd group about something else. The 3rd meeting also has 2 meetings; 1 is for relapse prevention for those in addiction recovery and the other meeting could be on any other subject. The 4th meeting (after lunch) could be about anything mental health related, and is more of a closing group. In the last 4 days, I have gone to 2 trauma groups, a group on forgiveness, 2 groups on the affects of stress, a group on Maslows Hierarchy of Needs, a group on Learned Helplessness, a group on Assertive Communication, and just a "get to know you" type class where we were asked questions and everyone went around answering it. I have met some incredible people and heard some stories that would blow you away (and probably not in a good way). I am exposed to a very diverse group of people.. people from homeless shelters, people with disposable income, artists, engineers, people with grief, people who meth addictions, people with booze addiction, people who still live with their abusers, young adults barely out of their teens and senior citizens and everyone in between. The one thing we all have in common, is that we are there to help ourselves and get better. Mental illness has brought our journeys together along this path, and we support each other.
This weekend while Tracy and I were out of town, I had some pretty big clarity moments. We went out of town, because we both needed some relaxation. Tracy has been stressed beyond belief, and I just wanted him to focus on him and laugh and relax. He wanted me to just relax and have fun. We took off for Bend, Oregon. We have never spent any length of time there. He planned it out. He found our hotel in the "mill district" and planned out our cross country skiing. But everything else was just kind of up in the air. What I found was that I didn't want my phone. I have actually not been very attached to my phone since my hospital stay. But this past weekend, while I had my phone on me to take pictures, I was not reading facebook or texting people. We weren't' even playing Pokemon. I literally spent the weekend being present with my feelings, with my husband, with life around me. It was such a great feelings. I thought about how much the kids would enjoy Bend, and we talked about it. But we didn't talk about stress. We didn't talk about pain. We talked about the beautiful homes, the rock statues, the gorgeous river, the rain, the beers that we were enjoying, about our love and our marriage. We spent a great deal of time just enjoying each other and walking hand in hand. We actually sat and enjoyed the sunset while drinking beers on a porch by a park. It was so fabulous and relaxing. I did actually break out my phone and post about it because, well, I wanted to share my happiness after sharing so much sadness. We enjoyed the snow. We enjoyed watching the big air competition. We enjoyed sleeping in. We enjoyed food and ice cream. We enjoyed just living in the moment and taking spontaneous stops and just being there in the moment with no agenda. It was beautiful.
I also realized that for the first time, I was perfectly okay thinking about me and me alone. Usually, when we go out of town, a great deal of my time and energy is put into what I am going to get the kids, my mom, or my friends. I feel guilty if I buy something for myself, but I come home empty handed for my friends and family. I even feel guilty if Tracy doesn't buy something while we are out of town. Like if I buy something for me, everyone has to have something too. But this time, I heard myself say, "No. You don't have to buy something for people just because you bought something. It is okay to want to buy something because you want to remember how happy you are right here. The kids don't need a pair of socks just because you bought something for yourself. It is okay to be selfish. And if Tracy wants something, he can get it for himself. If he doesn't want something, that is okay too. It's okay to just think about you, and let everyone else take care of themselves and be responsible for themselves." That was a huge moment for me.
Today I was back in PHP. After having such a beautiful weekend, the idea of going into PHP was very difficult. I know what is ahead of me. It will be more stories of pain. It will be opening that closet up again and having to take a look at my gremlins. I am grateful for the rest I had over the weekend that made it easier to open closets, but still, it takes alot of courage and effort to open the closets and look. It also takes alot of effort to stay in the room and be present with others while they do the same thing. Hearing other people's pain while you are in pain is a double edged sword and can sometimes be overwhelming. Thankfully, they give us tools and I use those tools religiously now. Today we talked more about how stress affects our bodies, and I wonder if part of my weight gain has been all of the anger and stress I have kept in my body since Nick's death. We also talked about what we can do when we start to feel stress..what are our tools? There was also a class on boundaries today. I have been working on creating my boundaries for a couple of years. I have been getting better at setting boundaries and hopefully at respecting boundaries. That is an ever changing process.
I am tired today. Leaving PHP has left me feeling tired and drained. My head always hurts. I wonder if my post concussive syndrome gets triggered by all of the talk and noise and deep thinking. I have a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow to go over my meds and over my diagnosis and make sure I am everything diagnosed properly and my meds are correct. I also have questions about the brain injury and what I feel. I also have a brain MRI on the 9th (rescheduled since I missed it while I was in the hospital). Getting this brain taken care of is the name of the game right now. Taking time to take care of me seems so indulgent...I should be cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping..you name it. But this time, is very much needed. I am grateful for the insurance that allows this to happen. I am grateful for Tracy's income. I am grateful for the ability to be able to do this. I am grateful for all of the love and support of my friends and family. This is just as bad as a heart attack or some other severe illness that could kill me.. I did time in the hospital in ICU and then in a general ward. Then I was released to rehab specialist. Eventually I will be released to see people like a chiropractor or massage therapist or personal trainer. Eventually...... But for right now, its one moment at a time, one day at a time in PHP. I'm doing my work. Following my treatment plans. I'm getting better. I'm healing. And I'm grateful.
I just completed day 4 of PHP. I feel stronger since starting, but I am not sure I am strong enough to be released yet. I have 6 more days of PHP covered by insurance, then we will discuss it further. But what I am getting right now is a kind of double edged sword. It is painful and helpful all at the same time. Opening up the closets where my monsters live and taking a good long scary look at them is a bit horrifying, but realizing that they really aren't that scary after all helps. They are like gremlins.. totally cute and adorable as long as you treat them properly. But the minute I mistreat them, they become those ugly angry things that we call monsters. So what kind of gremlins do I have living in my closet? Well, Grief is a given. But I also have some named Guilt, Blame, Anxiety, Rage, Depression, PTSD, DID, Jealousy and so many more. PHP allows me to open the door of this closet, with a support person beside me. The support person is there to have my back in case it gets ugly. But mostly, they are just there to witness my interaction with each of the gremlins. They cheer me on and support me as I get to know these gremlins and hear their stories and find out how to care for them so that they don't turn into the ugly gremlins that are mistreated. It's a scary process. It's a healthy process. It's a painful process. And it feels good in the end.
A day in PHP is filled with 4 group meetings and lunch. The first meeting is Goals, Affirmations, and Gratitude; its just to check in on everyone for the day and do a roll call. The 2nd meeting time holds two spots and could be about anything, but on Tues/Wed/Thursdays there is a "Trauma" group with a 2nd group about something else. The 3rd meeting also has 2 meetings; 1 is for relapse prevention for those in addiction recovery and the other meeting could be on any other subject. The 4th meeting (after lunch) could be about anything mental health related, and is more of a closing group. In the last 4 days, I have gone to 2 trauma groups, a group on forgiveness, 2 groups on the affects of stress, a group on Maslows Hierarchy of Needs, a group on Learned Helplessness, a group on Assertive Communication, and just a "get to know you" type class where we were asked questions and everyone went around answering it. I have met some incredible people and heard some stories that would blow you away (and probably not in a good way). I am exposed to a very diverse group of people.. people from homeless shelters, people with disposable income, artists, engineers, people with grief, people who meth addictions, people with booze addiction, people who still live with their abusers, young adults barely out of their teens and senior citizens and everyone in between. The one thing we all have in common, is that we are there to help ourselves and get better. Mental illness has brought our journeys together along this path, and we support each other.
This weekend while Tracy and I were out of town, I had some pretty big clarity moments. We went out of town, because we both needed some relaxation. Tracy has been stressed beyond belief, and I just wanted him to focus on him and laugh and relax. He wanted me to just relax and have fun. We took off for Bend, Oregon. We have never spent any length of time there. He planned it out. He found our hotel in the "mill district" and planned out our cross country skiing. But everything else was just kind of up in the air. What I found was that I didn't want my phone. I have actually not been very attached to my phone since my hospital stay. But this past weekend, while I had my phone on me to take pictures, I was not reading facebook or texting people. We weren't' even playing Pokemon. I literally spent the weekend being present with my feelings, with my husband, with life around me. It was such a great feelings. I thought about how much the kids would enjoy Bend, and we talked about it. But we didn't talk about stress. We didn't talk about pain. We talked about the beautiful homes, the rock statues, the gorgeous river, the rain, the beers that we were enjoying, about our love and our marriage. We spent a great deal of time just enjoying each other and walking hand in hand. We actually sat and enjoyed the sunset while drinking beers on a porch by a park. It was so fabulous and relaxing. I did actually break out my phone and post about it because, well, I wanted to share my happiness after sharing so much sadness. We enjoyed the snow. We enjoyed watching the big air competition. We enjoyed sleeping in. We enjoyed food and ice cream. We enjoyed just living in the moment and taking spontaneous stops and just being there in the moment with no agenda. It was beautiful.
I also realized that for the first time, I was perfectly okay thinking about me and me alone. Usually, when we go out of town, a great deal of my time and energy is put into what I am going to get the kids, my mom, or my friends. I feel guilty if I buy something for myself, but I come home empty handed for my friends and family. I even feel guilty if Tracy doesn't buy something while we are out of town. Like if I buy something for me, everyone has to have something too. But this time, I heard myself say, "No. You don't have to buy something for people just because you bought something. It is okay to want to buy something because you want to remember how happy you are right here. The kids don't need a pair of socks just because you bought something for yourself. It is okay to be selfish. And if Tracy wants something, he can get it for himself. If he doesn't want something, that is okay too. It's okay to just think about you, and let everyone else take care of themselves and be responsible for themselves." That was a huge moment for me.
Today I was back in PHP. After having such a beautiful weekend, the idea of going into PHP was very difficult. I know what is ahead of me. It will be more stories of pain. It will be opening that closet up again and having to take a look at my gremlins. I am grateful for the rest I had over the weekend that made it easier to open closets, but still, it takes alot of courage and effort to open the closets and look. It also takes alot of effort to stay in the room and be present with others while they do the same thing. Hearing other people's pain while you are in pain is a double edged sword and can sometimes be overwhelming. Thankfully, they give us tools and I use those tools religiously now. Today we talked more about how stress affects our bodies, and I wonder if part of my weight gain has been all of the anger and stress I have kept in my body since Nick's death. We also talked about what we can do when we start to feel stress..what are our tools? There was also a class on boundaries today. I have been working on creating my boundaries for a couple of years. I have been getting better at setting boundaries and hopefully at respecting boundaries. That is an ever changing process.
I am tired today. Leaving PHP has left me feeling tired and drained. My head always hurts. I wonder if my post concussive syndrome gets triggered by all of the talk and noise and deep thinking. I have a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow to go over my meds and over my diagnosis and make sure I am everything diagnosed properly and my meds are correct. I also have questions about the brain injury and what I feel. I also have a brain MRI on the 9th (rescheduled since I missed it while I was in the hospital). Getting this brain taken care of is the name of the game right now. Taking time to take care of me seems so indulgent...I should be cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping..you name it. But this time, is very much needed. I am grateful for the insurance that allows this to happen. I am grateful for Tracy's income. I am grateful for the ability to be able to do this. I am grateful for all of the love and support of my friends and family. This is just as bad as a heart attack or some other severe illness that could kill me.. I did time in the hospital in ICU and then in a general ward. Then I was released to rehab specialist. Eventually I will be released to see people like a chiropractor or massage therapist or personal trainer. Eventually...... But for right now, its one moment at a time, one day at a time in PHP. I'm doing my work. Following my treatment plans. I'm getting better. I'm healing. And I'm grateful.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
March 26, 2019 Something about the month of March
There have been alot of thoughts going through my head since my recent break down..... Yes, there was a specific event that sent me over the edge, but there is something bigger afoot.
When I look at my history, I have a tendency to make big changes and healing choices in the month of March. In 2010 I did a fire walk. In 2011, I joined Weight Watchers and started myself on a whole new path of health and adventure. I joined WW again with a friend in March. I have started lots of things in March that have to do with either my physical health, emotional health, spiritual health, and financial health. Then I started to think about what happens in March.. the Spring Equinox. Spring is a time to plant new seeds.. a time to start new things.. a time to clean out the things that no longer serve us and make room for those that do. Wow. Okay.
Then I thought some more. March is the 3rd month of the year. That got me thinking about the number 3. In numerology it is the number of creative expression and joy. But mostly, I think about it in term of Maiden/Mother/Crone (3 being Crone which..to me..means wisdom). I also think about it in other stages of life... 3 is a powerful number and runs deep in my core, apparently. It's big in general. You know what we all say, "Things happen in 3s", "Third times a charm".... I was looking on line for the symbolism in the number 3... and I found this...
"The iris flower as a symbol of power in ancient Egypt. It was often placed on scepter of rulers and kings. the three large petals of the iris flower symbolize: Faith, Wisdom and courage. The iris flower is named after the Greek messenger goddess, Iris. She was also seen as the rainbow. Iris flowers were planted on the graves of women. The answer Greeks believed that the goddess Iris would lead the dead women to the Underworld."
The website said lots of interesting things, but the word "Underworld" caught me. In metaphor, "underworld" is our subconscious...where all our deepest lessons lie. It's what has boiled over the rim for me and sent me to the hospital.
I have had some really great inspirations with this hospital stay... some of those include, more information on a book that has been rolling around in my head for decades.... a great idea for a burlesque production.. a couple of new act ideas...and some stories are coming back to me. The number 3.. the month of March is a magical time.
With all of that said, I also believe that we create our life. Everything I have done I believe I have created in some way or another. The last time I went to church, was the service right before "lent". My belief system does not really practice lent the way traditional Christian churches do. However, we did talk about what we could let go of this season. And in my heart, I felt and heard, "The heart ache and pain of our broken family. The stuff going on with Suzy." I heard it, but I told it "No! It's too hard! It's too painful!" But it was my heart's desire and no matter what my head was saying, my heart and my spiritual center said, "Yes!" So here's the thing, I have studied the Hero's Journey for years. That moment in church, I hear the call to adventure to heal, and I denied the call. What happens when you deny the call to adventure? Pain happens. When you are called, you will continue to be called until you go. So, yes, I created this. My truest heart's desire is to heal my family, and when I denied it, the Universe made sure it happened. It's time. So here I am. Reading. Being open to new creative endeavors and the healing that comes with it.
Here's to spring! Here's to growth! Here's to healing.
When I look at my history, I have a tendency to make big changes and healing choices in the month of March. In 2010 I did a fire walk. In 2011, I joined Weight Watchers and started myself on a whole new path of health and adventure. I joined WW again with a friend in March. I have started lots of things in March that have to do with either my physical health, emotional health, spiritual health, and financial health. Then I started to think about what happens in March.. the Spring Equinox. Spring is a time to plant new seeds.. a time to start new things.. a time to clean out the things that no longer serve us and make room for those that do. Wow. Okay.
Then I thought some more. March is the 3rd month of the year. That got me thinking about the number 3. In numerology it is the number of creative expression and joy. But mostly, I think about it in term of Maiden/Mother/Crone (3 being Crone which..to me..means wisdom). I also think about it in other stages of life... 3 is a powerful number and runs deep in my core, apparently. It's big in general. You know what we all say, "Things happen in 3s", "Third times a charm".... I was looking on line for the symbolism in the number 3... and I found this...
"The iris flower as a symbol of power in ancient Egypt. It was often placed on scepter of rulers and kings. the three large petals of the iris flower symbolize: Faith, Wisdom and courage. The iris flower is named after the Greek messenger goddess, Iris. She was also seen as the rainbow. Iris flowers were planted on the graves of women. The answer Greeks believed that the goddess Iris would lead the dead women to the Underworld."
The website said lots of interesting things, but the word "Underworld" caught me. In metaphor, "underworld" is our subconscious...where all our deepest lessons lie. It's what has boiled over the rim for me and sent me to the hospital.
I have had some really great inspirations with this hospital stay... some of those include, more information on a book that has been rolling around in my head for decades.... a great idea for a burlesque production.. a couple of new act ideas...and some stories are coming back to me. The number 3.. the month of March is a magical time.
With all of that said, I also believe that we create our life. Everything I have done I believe I have created in some way or another. The last time I went to church, was the service right before "lent". My belief system does not really practice lent the way traditional Christian churches do. However, we did talk about what we could let go of this season. And in my heart, I felt and heard, "The heart ache and pain of our broken family. The stuff going on with Suzy." I heard it, but I told it "No! It's too hard! It's too painful!" But it was my heart's desire and no matter what my head was saying, my heart and my spiritual center said, "Yes!" So here's the thing, I have studied the Hero's Journey for years. That moment in church, I hear the call to adventure to heal, and I denied the call. What happens when you deny the call to adventure? Pain happens. When you are called, you will continue to be called until you go. So, yes, I created this. My truest heart's desire is to heal my family, and when I denied it, the Universe made sure it happened. It's time. So here I am. Reading. Being open to new creative endeavors and the healing that comes with it.
Here's to spring! Here's to growth! Here's to healing.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
March 23, 2019 A Week In The Psych Ward
It's been a couple of days since I have been home after doing a week in Intermountain Hospital (a mental health hospital here in Boise, Idaho). This is my 2nd stay in a mental hospital in 7 months. I am hoping this is my last one. But since it has been a couple of days, and my brain has been processing and healing and forgetting and moving on, this blog post may be a bit scatter and I'm sure it will be long. So please make yourself a drink and make yourself comfortable and get ready for a bumpy ride.
On Friday, March 15, a set of circumstances lead my brain into deciding that I couldn't handle life anymore and I needed to kill myself. It was centered around the birth of Suzy's (Nick's widow) son which she named Nicholas. (This is NOT Suzy's fault, and I am NOT talking trash about her. This is about MY reaction, and MY healing process.) For my own mental health, and for Suzy's happy pregnancy, I had unfriended and blocked her. When her baby shower happened, I had unfriended more people. It was just breaking my heart...seeing all of the rubber duckies in a place where Nick should have been (if he had been alive). It was just hurting so much. I thought I was safe, and I was dealing as best I could with knowing that she had named her son after my dead son....knowing that every time I saw this baby or someone talked of this baby, I would be reminded that my own son was dead. It was so hard for me. I was talking with my friends. I was reaching out. I was doing the best that I could. But then, out of nowhere, and from an unexpected source, I saw a picture of Suzy and her family as she was discharging from the hospital. I saw a picture of little Nicholas in a onesie that said, "Hello, I'm Nicholas" and there was a rubber ducky on it. I felt like my dead son was being erased and replaced. Still I was dealing as best I could. I was actively talking to my friends in private messenger trying to stay calm. But it was spinning out of control fast. I showed the picture to Tracy (knowing he had already seen 1 picture of Suzy and the baby from our friend Michael). He looked at the picture. Paused and said, "Ya... thats a cute baby." But there was something in his voice. Then he said he was going to take a nap. And in that moment, I made the move that sent me over the edge. I walked over to his computer, and opened up his messenger, and saw conversations he had been having with Suzy (and I didn't know he had). There were pictures of her and the baby. And there was a discussion where she asked if he was coming to visit her with our friend Michael. When he asked if I could come, her response was "That is probably not a good idea." That is where I lost it!
I should say that *now* I do not blame Suzy. If you have been reading my blog and my facebook posts since November of 2015, You know how horrible I have been about talking shit about Suzy. It was my pain talking shit. I was just "word vomiting" my pain everywhere I went. So of course, Suzy would not want me to visit the baby. I don't blame her now, but on March 15th, that was a completely different story.
I ran into the bathroom, opened up my bottle of Valium, and dumped the contents in my hand. I did not know Tracy was in the bathroom. He asked me what I was doing, and I replied, "I'm killing myself." He quickly came to me and knocked the pills out of my hand. (I did not take any.) But what resulted after that was a horrific scene...
I was screaming horrible, vile things as I tried to get away from him. He was doing his best to restrain me so I could not kill myself or run away. He called Naomi in to help. They were chasing me around the bed, keeping me from climbing out of windows and opening doors. I actually tried to crawl under the bed to get away from them. I was pushing and thrashing and screaming obscenities. I was making horrible declarations. Tracy used "Alexa" to call my mom and told her to call the police. I was screaming uncontrollably. I was screaming profanities and horrible things at my mom. The police came and knocked on our bedroom door. We opened it, and I ran past him as he questioned Tracy and Naomi. I was screaming at the officer. He tried to calm me down and I started to fight with him. He ended up handcuffing me with metal cuffs (pretty tightly). I only say that, cause a week later, I still have bruises and pain in my hands.
The next thing I knew I had a house full of officers and I was being dragged out of my house against my will by two officers. One on each side me of holding me up by my shoulders and my handcuffed hands and dragging me out to the front yard. I was still screaming out of control. I was 100% rage. They took me out to my front yard. I tried to run again. I was still screaming obscenities and threats and rage was spewing from my mouth. It took 2 officers to get me down to the grass. They started to restrain my feet but I kept getting lose. They finally restrained my legs as best they could with my thrashing and kicking but I still got my feet moved from the way they wanted them. They restrained my upper body. Then they somehow connected the two and they put a helmet on my head. I was still screaming and thrashing. I was literally still trying to get away. I was scooching like an inch worm trying to get away. They held me down. I still wanted to die. I started hitting my head on the ground hoping to give myself another concussion that was bad enough to make this nightmare go away. They threatened me again with something, but I don't know what. I just kept screaming.. in my front yard...on the ground.. restrained. The ambulance came. They picked me up and threw me on the stretcher and took me into the ambulance and I continued to scream. I was yelling obscenities and the paramedics. They told me we couldn't leave till I calmed down. They asked me if they could help me, I told them to kill me because that is the only help that would help. I screamed and screamed and still thrashed. I stopped thrashing my body, but then started hitting my head on the stretcher over and over and over again. Then finally it all stopped. I went limp. I had completely checked out. I was stuck in my body. I could hear things but I could not respond. I could hear them talking about me. I could hear the "ride along" answer his phone and stay that he was in the ambulance with a restrained screaming woman and how interesting it was.
They took me into the ER or some "safety unit". I don't know. They threw me like a hog tied pig onto a hospital bed. I was laying on my back. Still restrained. Still handcuffed with metal handcuffs and laying on my back. I was still checked out. I was not talking to anyone. Someone asked my birth date. I think I gave them that. But that was all. I was done. I was out of it. I could hear them talking to me. I could hear them asking me questions. But I could not respond. I was limp, not moving, not fighting, and not speaking and my eyes were closed and I was not able to respond to anything. They took off the police restraints and restrained me with the hospital restraints...first my feet, then my hands, pulling my arm down and pulling the muscles in my shoulder. The pain shot through my body. I could not speak. They restrained my feet with my legs spread. I felt so vulnerable and dead inside. They some how rolled me a bit to my side and pulled my pants down a bit to give me a shot in my butt. I was checked out. I heard the officer tell me that I was now under state's custody and would be going to the psych ward.
I don't remember getting into paper clothes in the hospital. I don't remember getting unrestrained. I don't remember Tracy being in the ER room. I don't remember anything until I was being put into a purple car and being driven to Intermountain. I don't remember the drive. I vaguely remember walking into the hospital feeling scared. Still not talking. The rest of that night was a blurr....having to strip down to nothing so the nurse could see that I didn't smuggle anything in and that she could check my skin in case I do any self harming while there in the hospital. My bra was taken from me because it had an underwire, but they gave me a sports bra. I don't remember that first night. I started talking at some point. I was compliant. I was courteous. I was calm. (I only know that because of the nurses reports.) They gave me some pretty serious drugs to sedate me and I slept all night.
I woke up the next morning after 10am. No one had woken me up for breakfast, and I had already missed group meetings (that I have to go to in order to be released). The hospital is old and "dark" looking. I was in a unit called ICU. The other women I shared the unit with seemed to be drugged out too. I felt like I was in some kind of hell and would never be let out. I knew the drill from my last stay 7 months ago at a different facility. Get up, be sociable, go to meetings, eat your foot, take your shower, prove that you can take care of yourself and you are not going to harm yourself or others. So that is what I started to do. I wanted out of there and quick! Tracy, Michael, my mom and Naomi came to visit me that first night. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but I was glad they were there. I was still pretty mad at Tracy for calling the cops.
The hospital staff had me on a "detox" plan. I don't know why. I am not on any drugs and do not take any narcotics on a regular basis. But it was that "detox" plan that was knocking my ass out. I was only on it for 2 nights (I think). But the doctors had decided to up my antidepressant dose and gave me a new pill for sleeping. My body was so sore. I had bruises all over my body (still do) from being restrained and from fighting people. I had seen my first DE (designated examiner...the person from the state who decides if I am stable enough to be released or if I need to stay longer). She apparently gave me a positive; which meant that I needed to stay and would be seen by a 2nd DE within 72 hours, and that would be an independent Psychiatrist. In the mean time, I was seeing the hospital's Physicians assistant, social workers, case workers, and the hospital psychiatrist. I was attending group therapy sessions. I was doing my work and being sociable.
The unit I was in was pretty tight with the security. I don't know if you have ever been in a psych ward, but they can be pretty scary places. The unity I was in, was the strictest in the hospital. I was in there with women who were facing felony charges for who knows what, woman with different personalities that you could watch switch within seconds, women who had so much paranoia you never knew what they were telling you was real or not or if you were safe with them or not, women who were so bad off they had to have 24/7 one on one babysitter. There were homeless women there to detox and try to get their lives back on track. There was a pregnant mother in there who already had 3 babies in state's custody. One woman had lost her child at 37 weeks and her other children were in states custody. The stories I heard were intense. We were not allowed to touch each other and the staff were not allowed to touch us. We were not allowed outside, except on rare occasions for a few minutes. We were deprived of the things humans need the most.. touch and vitamin d. Some women couldn't even go outside at all (due to their legal issues or their mental health issues and the hold the state held them on). It was a very hard unit to be in. Every one of those women wanted out of there. Some were being committed to the state facility. One was had to plea insanity in a court of law. It was heart breaking.
By the 2nd day, I stared to feel better and I was working on myself. Tracy had brought me some clothes to change into. I was able to shower. He had also brought me a book. I was given a folder with a handbook about the hospital and a goals packet. The goals packet is what saved me. It had pages for me to fill out every day. I had to put down what my word for the day was, my affirmation for the day, my gratitude, my coping skills, and so much more to keep me on task. The best part of those pages was the back of the pages. It had the REBT exercise on it. I don't know what it stands for, but it is a cognitive exercise to help rewire my brain. I wrote down an "event" that happened to me, what my original thoughts/beliefs were about the event, my emotions, and then my behaviors based on that belief. Then it had me rework that belief into a rational belief, and what my feelings would be if it were true and then my actions if it were true. We had to do 3 of those a day. This is where true healing started. Between these worksheets, my book and the journaling about the book, and my group therapies I started to realize what was going on in my life and how to heal it.
I started reworking everything that had happened between me and Suzy since Nicks death. I started to feel healing taking place. I was lighter. I was laughing. I was smiling. I started to have goals and vision and purpose. I realized that it was time to let go of all of the anger. I realized Suzy was not a horrible person. I realized she loved my boy and her naming her son Nicholas was a way of honoring him. I started writing letters to my family. I wrote one to Naomi first. I wrote some to Tracy and Nate next. Then I wrote a very very very long one (7 pages front and back) to Suzy apologizing and asking her to forgive me. I explained myself. I let her know what was going on. And I took responsibility for my stuff. I truly love her. If I didn't love her, I could not have been as upset as I was. But I had lost site of that love. Why? Because I was angry about Nick dieing, and I was focusing all of that anger onto her. If she moved on, I had to face the fact that Nick was dead, and I have been denying that for 3 years now. There is alot to it. But that is the gist of it. I told her that if she wanted, I would love to be part of their life again. (At least I Think I did. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote in that letter..I just know what the feeling and the gist of it was.) I gave it to Tracy to give to Suzy. He had already seen her and little Nicholas. Tom had already apologized to Tracy for things that happened way back in 2015. Healing was starting to take place.
I skipped a step in here somewhere. Like I said, I was in the Intensive Care Unit of the facility. When the first DE came in to see me in ICU, she had asked if they hold was lifted if I would voluntarily sign myself in. I told her I would think about it. I remember feeling like I had been released to soon from my previous stay back in the fall. Tracy and I had agreed that staying longer would be good for me. I needed to heal. I could not keep this up. I talked to the Psychiatrist about this. A social worker came in and told me about the PHP program which is a daily group therapy group that meets from 10-3 every day. It is a bridge between inpatient treatment and seeing a therapist one on one. This is EXACTLY what I needed. I was so excited to hear about the program! That would mean I could go home and get help once I was home. The 2nd DE came in. He asked me questions. By the time he had come in, I had been doing my worksheets, reading, and feeling amazing. I was dancing in my room without music. When I could get hold of the TV remote, I turned on soothing music in the TV room and did my work in the quiet. The staff would comment to me how good I was looking. I participated in my classes, not just sit there. I had made the conscious decision to stay there on my own; I was going to use this time for ME to heal. This was MY time. It was okay to be selfish. It was okay to take care of me. The DE was thrilled with my progress and my plan. He agreed to remove my hold and it was totally up to me on what I wanted to do. I told him that I would sign myself in to be moved to the Adult Unit where I was promised more freedom and better group therapy classes.
That night was my last night in the ICU. I was sitting on a couch facing the open doorway of one of the women in the unity. I heard her calling me. I went to her door. (We are not allowed in each others rooms). "Martha will you read me a bed time story?" Her little girl was out. I told her that I could not come into her room. "Well if I come out, will you read it to me?" I told her that I did not have a book that would be good for bedtime stories, but I would tell her stories if she wanted me too. "Yes!" she said. She hopped out of bed, with all of the excitement of a little child. She grabbed her pillow and her blanket and ran to the couch in the TV room. She laid down, curled up, pulled her blanket over her and started to suck her thumb. I told her stories that I had written that had a lullaby to it. She got excited. "That was a great story! Tell me another one!" I told her another story I had written. I broke the rule and touched her and "squiggles the wiggle worm" crawled on her shoulder. She giggled. I finished the story. "That was great! Can you tell me another one?" I told her the story of how the frog lost his tail. Then she wanted me to sing to her. I sang her lullabies. And she fell asleep. One of the staff came in a couple of times during this (because they do a face check in every 15 minutes) and once the woman was asleep, she whispered, "Thank you." My heart was happy that I could bring her peace. The next morning, she was really upset. Another girl was talking to her. I asked if she was okay. The other girl said, "Martha, she needs you." I moved across the room and sat beside her. Her little girl was out again. "I feel lost. I don't know what to do." In the span of 10 minutes, her personalities switched several times and each time, I adapted and calmed her down until group started. Thankfully, group was all about the questions she had. But that didn't stop her from crying when I was transferred to the next unit.
When I moved to the Adult unit (which was co-ed), I was disappointed. The only "extra" freedom I received was the fact that now I could WALK to the cafeteria instead of having to order it in to the unit. But the groups were better. Immediately, I got to do a guided meditation about being at the beach. It was the perfect way to start my stay in that unit. My room mate was very sweet, and the bed was so much better. But I think my favorite thing was that the bathroom had an actual counter and places to hang my stuff. The very first day I was there, was the day that I was writing that letter to Suzy. AS I was writing it, a young man walked by me. He was the spitting image of my Nick. I could not stop staring at him. I knew it was Nick sending me him telling me that I was on the right path. I mentioned that to Suzy in the letter. As I continued to write the letter to Suzy, I had realized that I had become the parent I never wanted to be. After going through the abuse I went through as a kid, I didn't want to be that parent. As a matter of fact, when I found out I was pregnant with Nick, I decided right then and there to break the cycle of abuse. However, since Nick's death, I had become that toxic abusive parent (at least to Suzy). I had also let the rage out on my family at home. I had become unrecognizable to myself. It was the pregnancy of Nick that made me want to heal and change. And then, it was the birth Suzy's little Nicholas that had prompted this break down that put me in a space that facilitated this a-ha moment and the healing started on the fast track. Nick was still working his magic.
I ended up spending 2 nights in the Adult unit. In that time, I got to meet some amazing human beings. I spent time talking with the young man that looked like Nick. I wailed in my room and mourned for my son. My roommate held space for me while I cried and she listened to my story and the healing that was taking place. I listened to another young man who had a dream of world peace. We shared stories and philosophical ideas. I gave him some things to think about. One of the other women, said, "Wow! You are super smart." The next day, I heard her tell one of our group meeting leaders that she had used one of the suggestions I had given to the young man and how much it had helped her. Everyone kept asking me why I was there. They couldn't believe the stuff I was coming up with. But the me.. the me before Nick's death..was re-emerging. Even other employees who had not met me yet, thought I was one of the employees there and were asking me questions. I had to keep saying, "I don't know. I don't work here. I am a patient."
One of the big things I did there was learn to set boundaries. People wanted my attention. They wanted me to sit with them and play cards. They wanted me to sit with them and color. They wanted me to sit with them and have long philosophical conversations. But I was there to help myself. I was there to focus on myself. I was there to heal myself. So I set my boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't allow myself to be sociable until I had my work and my goals accomplished for the day. That felt amazing.
I was released and scared to come home, but I am glad I am home now. I have alot of work to do, but I have a plan. I have created a tool chest for things to do in the house when I have a flare up. I have a little gym with a punching bag and throwing medicine ball and yoga mat and dumb bells in the garage. I have a list of coping skills that can be used in my car in case I get triggered in my car. I have been to my assessment for PHP. I am taking my meds. And every day more and more stuff becomes clear.
Most importantly, Suzy, Tom and I have become friends on facebook again and we have begun to talk and started to rebuild the bridge. They have graciously forgiven me for my past behaviors and have agreed to move forward in healing our family. I don't know what that will look like and all sides are a bit apprehensive. But we love each other and want our family to heal. Tracy has a picture of himself with Suzy and little Nicholas, and his face is all smiles and happy. I am looking forward to meeting little Nicholas and hugging Suzy again.
On Friday, March 15, a set of circumstances lead my brain into deciding that I couldn't handle life anymore and I needed to kill myself. It was centered around the birth of Suzy's (Nick's widow) son which she named Nicholas. (This is NOT Suzy's fault, and I am NOT talking trash about her. This is about MY reaction, and MY healing process.) For my own mental health, and for Suzy's happy pregnancy, I had unfriended and blocked her. When her baby shower happened, I had unfriended more people. It was just breaking my heart...seeing all of the rubber duckies in a place where Nick should have been (if he had been alive). It was just hurting so much. I thought I was safe, and I was dealing as best I could with knowing that she had named her son after my dead son....knowing that every time I saw this baby or someone talked of this baby, I would be reminded that my own son was dead. It was so hard for me. I was talking with my friends. I was reaching out. I was doing the best that I could. But then, out of nowhere, and from an unexpected source, I saw a picture of Suzy and her family as she was discharging from the hospital. I saw a picture of little Nicholas in a onesie that said, "Hello, I'm Nicholas" and there was a rubber ducky on it. I felt like my dead son was being erased and replaced. Still I was dealing as best I could. I was actively talking to my friends in private messenger trying to stay calm. But it was spinning out of control fast. I showed the picture to Tracy (knowing he had already seen 1 picture of Suzy and the baby from our friend Michael). He looked at the picture. Paused and said, "Ya... thats a cute baby." But there was something in his voice. Then he said he was going to take a nap. And in that moment, I made the move that sent me over the edge. I walked over to his computer, and opened up his messenger, and saw conversations he had been having with Suzy (and I didn't know he had). There were pictures of her and the baby. And there was a discussion where she asked if he was coming to visit her with our friend Michael. When he asked if I could come, her response was "That is probably not a good idea." That is where I lost it!
I should say that *now* I do not blame Suzy. If you have been reading my blog and my facebook posts since November of 2015, You know how horrible I have been about talking shit about Suzy. It was my pain talking shit. I was just "word vomiting" my pain everywhere I went. So of course, Suzy would not want me to visit the baby. I don't blame her now, but on March 15th, that was a completely different story.
I ran into the bathroom, opened up my bottle of Valium, and dumped the contents in my hand. I did not know Tracy was in the bathroom. He asked me what I was doing, and I replied, "I'm killing myself." He quickly came to me and knocked the pills out of my hand. (I did not take any.) But what resulted after that was a horrific scene...
I was screaming horrible, vile things as I tried to get away from him. He was doing his best to restrain me so I could not kill myself or run away. He called Naomi in to help. They were chasing me around the bed, keeping me from climbing out of windows and opening doors. I actually tried to crawl under the bed to get away from them. I was pushing and thrashing and screaming obscenities. I was making horrible declarations. Tracy used "Alexa" to call my mom and told her to call the police. I was screaming uncontrollably. I was screaming profanities and horrible things at my mom. The police came and knocked on our bedroom door. We opened it, and I ran past him as he questioned Tracy and Naomi. I was screaming at the officer. He tried to calm me down and I started to fight with him. He ended up handcuffing me with metal cuffs (pretty tightly). I only say that, cause a week later, I still have bruises and pain in my hands.
The next thing I knew I had a house full of officers and I was being dragged out of my house against my will by two officers. One on each side me of holding me up by my shoulders and my handcuffed hands and dragging me out to the front yard. I was still screaming out of control. I was 100% rage. They took me out to my front yard. I tried to run again. I was still screaming obscenities and threats and rage was spewing from my mouth. It took 2 officers to get me down to the grass. They started to restrain my feet but I kept getting lose. They finally restrained my legs as best they could with my thrashing and kicking but I still got my feet moved from the way they wanted them. They restrained my upper body. Then they somehow connected the two and they put a helmet on my head. I was still screaming and thrashing. I was literally still trying to get away. I was scooching like an inch worm trying to get away. They held me down. I still wanted to die. I started hitting my head on the ground hoping to give myself another concussion that was bad enough to make this nightmare go away. They threatened me again with something, but I don't know what. I just kept screaming.. in my front yard...on the ground.. restrained. The ambulance came. They picked me up and threw me on the stretcher and took me into the ambulance and I continued to scream. I was yelling obscenities and the paramedics. They told me we couldn't leave till I calmed down. They asked me if they could help me, I told them to kill me because that is the only help that would help. I screamed and screamed and still thrashed. I stopped thrashing my body, but then started hitting my head on the stretcher over and over and over again. Then finally it all stopped. I went limp. I had completely checked out. I was stuck in my body. I could hear things but I could not respond. I could hear them talking about me. I could hear the "ride along" answer his phone and stay that he was in the ambulance with a restrained screaming woman and how interesting it was.
They took me into the ER or some "safety unit". I don't know. They threw me like a hog tied pig onto a hospital bed. I was laying on my back. Still restrained. Still handcuffed with metal handcuffs and laying on my back. I was still checked out. I was not talking to anyone. Someone asked my birth date. I think I gave them that. But that was all. I was done. I was out of it. I could hear them talking to me. I could hear them asking me questions. But I could not respond. I was limp, not moving, not fighting, and not speaking and my eyes were closed and I was not able to respond to anything. They took off the police restraints and restrained me with the hospital restraints...first my feet, then my hands, pulling my arm down and pulling the muscles in my shoulder. The pain shot through my body. I could not speak. They restrained my feet with my legs spread. I felt so vulnerable and dead inside. They some how rolled me a bit to my side and pulled my pants down a bit to give me a shot in my butt. I was checked out. I heard the officer tell me that I was now under state's custody and would be going to the psych ward.
I don't remember getting into paper clothes in the hospital. I don't remember getting unrestrained. I don't remember Tracy being in the ER room. I don't remember anything until I was being put into a purple car and being driven to Intermountain. I don't remember the drive. I vaguely remember walking into the hospital feeling scared. Still not talking. The rest of that night was a blurr....having to strip down to nothing so the nurse could see that I didn't smuggle anything in and that she could check my skin in case I do any self harming while there in the hospital. My bra was taken from me because it had an underwire, but they gave me a sports bra. I don't remember that first night. I started talking at some point. I was compliant. I was courteous. I was calm. (I only know that because of the nurses reports.) They gave me some pretty serious drugs to sedate me and I slept all night.
I woke up the next morning after 10am. No one had woken me up for breakfast, and I had already missed group meetings (that I have to go to in order to be released). The hospital is old and "dark" looking. I was in a unit called ICU. The other women I shared the unit with seemed to be drugged out too. I felt like I was in some kind of hell and would never be let out. I knew the drill from my last stay 7 months ago at a different facility. Get up, be sociable, go to meetings, eat your foot, take your shower, prove that you can take care of yourself and you are not going to harm yourself or others. So that is what I started to do. I wanted out of there and quick! Tracy, Michael, my mom and Naomi came to visit me that first night. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but I was glad they were there. I was still pretty mad at Tracy for calling the cops.
The hospital staff had me on a "detox" plan. I don't know why. I am not on any drugs and do not take any narcotics on a regular basis. But it was that "detox" plan that was knocking my ass out. I was only on it for 2 nights (I think). But the doctors had decided to up my antidepressant dose and gave me a new pill for sleeping. My body was so sore. I had bruises all over my body (still do) from being restrained and from fighting people. I had seen my first DE (designated examiner...the person from the state who decides if I am stable enough to be released or if I need to stay longer). She apparently gave me a positive; which meant that I needed to stay and would be seen by a 2nd DE within 72 hours, and that would be an independent Psychiatrist. In the mean time, I was seeing the hospital's Physicians assistant, social workers, case workers, and the hospital psychiatrist. I was attending group therapy sessions. I was doing my work and being sociable.
The unit I was in was pretty tight with the security. I don't know if you have ever been in a psych ward, but they can be pretty scary places. The unity I was in, was the strictest in the hospital. I was in there with women who were facing felony charges for who knows what, woman with different personalities that you could watch switch within seconds, women who had so much paranoia you never knew what they were telling you was real or not or if you were safe with them or not, women who were so bad off they had to have 24/7 one on one babysitter. There were homeless women there to detox and try to get their lives back on track. There was a pregnant mother in there who already had 3 babies in state's custody. One woman had lost her child at 37 weeks and her other children were in states custody. The stories I heard were intense. We were not allowed to touch each other and the staff were not allowed to touch us. We were not allowed outside, except on rare occasions for a few minutes. We were deprived of the things humans need the most.. touch and vitamin d. Some women couldn't even go outside at all (due to their legal issues or their mental health issues and the hold the state held them on). It was a very hard unit to be in. Every one of those women wanted out of there. Some were being committed to the state facility. One was had to plea insanity in a court of law. It was heart breaking.
By the 2nd day, I stared to feel better and I was working on myself. Tracy had brought me some clothes to change into. I was able to shower. He had also brought me a book. I was given a folder with a handbook about the hospital and a goals packet. The goals packet is what saved me. It had pages for me to fill out every day. I had to put down what my word for the day was, my affirmation for the day, my gratitude, my coping skills, and so much more to keep me on task. The best part of those pages was the back of the pages. It had the REBT exercise on it. I don't know what it stands for, but it is a cognitive exercise to help rewire my brain. I wrote down an "event" that happened to me, what my original thoughts/beliefs were about the event, my emotions, and then my behaviors based on that belief. Then it had me rework that belief into a rational belief, and what my feelings would be if it were true and then my actions if it were true. We had to do 3 of those a day. This is where true healing started. Between these worksheets, my book and the journaling about the book, and my group therapies I started to realize what was going on in my life and how to heal it.
I started reworking everything that had happened between me and Suzy since Nicks death. I started to feel healing taking place. I was lighter. I was laughing. I was smiling. I started to have goals and vision and purpose. I realized that it was time to let go of all of the anger. I realized Suzy was not a horrible person. I realized she loved my boy and her naming her son Nicholas was a way of honoring him. I started writing letters to my family. I wrote one to Naomi first. I wrote some to Tracy and Nate next. Then I wrote a very very very long one (7 pages front and back) to Suzy apologizing and asking her to forgive me. I explained myself. I let her know what was going on. And I took responsibility for my stuff. I truly love her. If I didn't love her, I could not have been as upset as I was. But I had lost site of that love. Why? Because I was angry about Nick dieing, and I was focusing all of that anger onto her. If she moved on, I had to face the fact that Nick was dead, and I have been denying that for 3 years now. There is alot to it. But that is the gist of it. I told her that if she wanted, I would love to be part of their life again. (At least I Think I did. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote in that letter..I just know what the feeling and the gist of it was.) I gave it to Tracy to give to Suzy. He had already seen her and little Nicholas. Tom had already apologized to Tracy for things that happened way back in 2015. Healing was starting to take place.
I skipped a step in here somewhere. Like I said, I was in the Intensive Care Unit of the facility. When the first DE came in to see me in ICU, she had asked if they hold was lifted if I would voluntarily sign myself in. I told her I would think about it. I remember feeling like I had been released to soon from my previous stay back in the fall. Tracy and I had agreed that staying longer would be good for me. I needed to heal. I could not keep this up. I talked to the Psychiatrist about this. A social worker came in and told me about the PHP program which is a daily group therapy group that meets from 10-3 every day. It is a bridge between inpatient treatment and seeing a therapist one on one. This is EXACTLY what I needed. I was so excited to hear about the program! That would mean I could go home and get help once I was home. The 2nd DE came in. He asked me questions. By the time he had come in, I had been doing my worksheets, reading, and feeling amazing. I was dancing in my room without music. When I could get hold of the TV remote, I turned on soothing music in the TV room and did my work in the quiet. The staff would comment to me how good I was looking. I participated in my classes, not just sit there. I had made the conscious decision to stay there on my own; I was going to use this time for ME to heal. This was MY time. It was okay to be selfish. It was okay to take care of me. The DE was thrilled with my progress and my plan. He agreed to remove my hold and it was totally up to me on what I wanted to do. I told him that I would sign myself in to be moved to the Adult Unit where I was promised more freedom and better group therapy classes.
That night was my last night in the ICU. I was sitting on a couch facing the open doorway of one of the women in the unity. I heard her calling me. I went to her door. (We are not allowed in each others rooms). "Martha will you read me a bed time story?" Her little girl was out. I told her that I could not come into her room. "Well if I come out, will you read it to me?" I told her that I did not have a book that would be good for bedtime stories, but I would tell her stories if she wanted me too. "Yes!" she said. She hopped out of bed, with all of the excitement of a little child. She grabbed her pillow and her blanket and ran to the couch in the TV room. She laid down, curled up, pulled her blanket over her and started to suck her thumb. I told her stories that I had written that had a lullaby to it. She got excited. "That was a great story! Tell me another one!" I told her another story I had written. I broke the rule and touched her and "squiggles the wiggle worm" crawled on her shoulder. She giggled. I finished the story. "That was great! Can you tell me another one?" I told her the story of how the frog lost his tail. Then she wanted me to sing to her. I sang her lullabies. And she fell asleep. One of the staff came in a couple of times during this (because they do a face check in every 15 minutes) and once the woman was asleep, she whispered, "Thank you." My heart was happy that I could bring her peace. The next morning, she was really upset. Another girl was talking to her. I asked if she was okay. The other girl said, "Martha, she needs you." I moved across the room and sat beside her. Her little girl was out again. "I feel lost. I don't know what to do." In the span of 10 minutes, her personalities switched several times and each time, I adapted and calmed her down until group started. Thankfully, group was all about the questions she had. But that didn't stop her from crying when I was transferred to the next unit.
When I moved to the Adult unit (which was co-ed), I was disappointed. The only "extra" freedom I received was the fact that now I could WALK to the cafeteria instead of having to order it in to the unit. But the groups were better. Immediately, I got to do a guided meditation about being at the beach. It was the perfect way to start my stay in that unit. My room mate was very sweet, and the bed was so much better. But I think my favorite thing was that the bathroom had an actual counter and places to hang my stuff. The very first day I was there, was the day that I was writing that letter to Suzy. AS I was writing it, a young man walked by me. He was the spitting image of my Nick. I could not stop staring at him. I knew it was Nick sending me him telling me that I was on the right path. I mentioned that to Suzy in the letter. As I continued to write the letter to Suzy, I had realized that I had become the parent I never wanted to be. After going through the abuse I went through as a kid, I didn't want to be that parent. As a matter of fact, when I found out I was pregnant with Nick, I decided right then and there to break the cycle of abuse. However, since Nick's death, I had become that toxic abusive parent (at least to Suzy). I had also let the rage out on my family at home. I had become unrecognizable to myself. It was the pregnancy of Nick that made me want to heal and change. And then, it was the birth Suzy's little Nicholas that had prompted this break down that put me in a space that facilitated this a-ha moment and the healing started on the fast track. Nick was still working his magic.
I ended up spending 2 nights in the Adult unit. In that time, I got to meet some amazing human beings. I spent time talking with the young man that looked like Nick. I wailed in my room and mourned for my son. My roommate held space for me while I cried and she listened to my story and the healing that was taking place. I listened to another young man who had a dream of world peace. We shared stories and philosophical ideas. I gave him some things to think about. One of the other women, said, "Wow! You are super smart." The next day, I heard her tell one of our group meeting leaders that she had used one of the suggestions I had given to the young man and how much it had helped her. Everyone kept asking me why I was there. They couldn't believe the stuff I was coming up with. But the me.. the me before Nick's death..was re-emerging. Even other employees who had not met me yet, thought I was one of the employees there and were asking me questions. I had to keep saying, "I don't know. I don't work here. I am a patient."
One of the big things I did there was learn to set boundaries. People wanted my attention. They wanted me to sit with them and play cards. They wanted me to sit with them and color. They wanted me to sit with them and have long philosophical conversations. But I was there to help myself. I was there to focus on myself. I was there to heal myself. So I set my boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't allow myself to be sociable until I had my work and my goals accomplished for the day. That felt amazing.
I was released and scared to come home, but I am glad I am home now. I have alot of work to do, but I have a plan. I have created a tool chest for things to do in the house when I have a flare up. I have a little gym with a punching bag and throwing medicine ball and yoga mat and dumb bells in the garage. I have a list of coping skills that can be used in my car in case I get triggered in my car. I have been to my assessment for PHP. I am taking my meds. And every day more and more stuff becomes clear.
Most importantly, Suzy, Tom and I have become friends on facebook again and we have begun to talk and started to rebuild the bridge. They have graciously forgiven me for my past behaviors and have agreed to move forward in healing our family. I don't know what that will look like and all sides are a bit apprehensive. But we love each other and want our family to heal. Tracy has a picture of himself with Suzy and little Nicholas, and his face is all smiles and happy. I am looking forward to meeting little Nicholas and hugging Suzy again.
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