Back on the Weight Watchers Train...

I will give a bit of a warning here.  This post will likely be lengthy.  The content will be about fat guilt, fat shame, weight loss and health.  If you are triggered by any of these things, then feel free to exercise self-care and stop reading now.  If you choose to continue reading, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the ride.

For months now I have been dealing with some serious depression that has taken the form of isolating, lethargy, and self-loathing.  That may be over simplfying things, I don't know.  But it has been bad.  At first I thought I escaped Covid without any mental health and physical health issues, but the more things opened up, the more I realized, I did NOT escape Covid without mental health and physical health issues.  And about a week ago, or a little over, a Facebook memory popped up with a side by side picture of me from around 2013.  The picture was a before shot of me just as I was starting weight watchers in 2011 when I weighed 240# wearing a size 22 and then another shot of me in my favorite bikini weighing in around 180#  wearing a size 9.  That hit me like a ton of bricks.  Not because of the "skinny" factor or because of the way that I looked, but because it reminded me of just how happy I was back then.  I wasn't happy because I was skinny; I was happy because I was taking are of myself.  I was setting and reaching goals.  I was healthy both physically and emotionally.  My lab work showed I was no longer pre-diabetic.   My resting heart rate was that of an athlete.  I had become an athlete and a dancer.  I was living my dreams.  I miss that feeling.  And that picture that came across my memories really made me feel some deep feelings.

For months, I have been feeling like I needed to do something about my weight/health.  Actually, its been about a year (or more) that I have been struggling with what to do.  I have friends who have had weight loss surgery and are doing so great with their health.  I often think, I would qualify for that surgery.  It's certainly a faster way to lose weight, but it is NOT for the faint of heart and its hard work.  From my limited understanding, you have to dial in your eating in a specific way before you have the surgery and then after the surgery you dietary restrictions are pretty tight.  My response to this is, "If I could change my eating habits to follow those of surgery, then I wouldn't need the surgery to begin with!"  I have also seen people gain the weight back after surgery, and I don't want to pay for a surgery that may end up being "useless" (because of my own weakness).  So I continued with the way I was going.  Every day, every week, every month sinking deeper into a depression and confused about what to do about my weight/health.  Back in 2011, when I joined Weight Watchers (WW), a switch was flipped and it felt so easy.  (Though after talking to Tracy last night, he said I struggled at the beginning.  I do not remember such things.)  Anyway, I kept saying, "I need the switch to flip again before I join again.  I have already joined once since then and it didn't take.  I need that swtich to flip."  But it just wasn't flipping.  Then that picture came up........I'm not sure it was the flip I needed, but it was enough for me to say, "Enough is enough.  You have to do something to take care of yourself, and you gotta start somewhere.  Weight Watchers seems like a good place to start."

Why Weight Watchers?  Well, I know it works.  It's a program that works as long as you continue to work the program.  But the most important thing is that it involved going to meetings and being surrounded by people on the same path.  I have been isolating, so this was forcing me to get out and DO something with other people involved.  This helps with the mental health aspect.  It's also an easy plan to follow and allows me to eat whatever I want.  There is no judgement about how much I lose or if I gain.  There is just support.  There is no shaming of any sort.  There is no guilt of any sort, and if people are experiencing some kind of guilt, it is worked through and the person is supported and loved through it.  

I did end up joining last Friday.  I am not at my highest weight from back in 2011, but I am about 8# short of that.  I weighed in at 232.8# wearing a size 20.  My blood pressure is a little high, and though I have not had my blood work done, I can guarantee you that I am pre-diabetic.  I have also been diagnosed with Diverticulosis that is brought on in part by obesity.  My mental health is taking a beating.  I have a hard time tieing my shoes or buckling up my dress shoes.  My clothes are starting to not fit right, and I don't want to buy bigger clothes.  I have a hard time getting down and back up from the floor (and I have a grandbaby that requires being able to do that).  And to be quite honest, because that is the only way anything will ever be taken care of in my world, I am not thrilled with the way that my body presents itself at the moment.  (That is VERY hard for me to admit and say out loud.)

One of my biggest fears of joining WW and starting this journey (even if it wasn't with WW) is the way other plus sized people (especially burlesque performers) will think of me.  Being a burlesque performer who is also plus size comes with some baggage.  First, I believe every body is a burlesque body.  I don't care what size you are; you deserve to be seen if that is what you want.  If you want to strip on stage, then you should be able to, no matter what size or shape you are.  You deserve the opportunity to feel amazing, glamorous, beautiful, filled with the joy that comes from performing.  Performing burlesque is empowering.  Being a plus size performer comes with a weight of responsibility.... a responsibility to show other plus size humans that their body is beautiful just the way it is.  I have been an advocate for plus size performers and inspired plus size humans to be on that stage.  

And now here I am...working on losing weight and getting healthy.  What does that say about me as a plus size advocate?  And what about the other plus size performers who are staunch plus size advocates?  There are plus size performers out there, who guilt and shame other performers for going on "diets" and making it public.  I have seen them express that by publicly going on a diet and posting about their diets and weight loss and before/after photos is a way to fat shame other plus size performers/humans.  I have seen them type that these kind of plus size performers that go on diets, are hurting those who are plus size and happy with where they are.  It is a scary place to be.

I am not sure I am expressing this clearly enough.  Let me see if I can put my fear and concern in another way....

Fat people get bullied by skinny people for being fat.  Fat people also get bullied by other fat people when they decide they want to lose weight and get healthy for themselves.  I'm scared of being bullied by other fat people/performers/advocates.  So scared, in fact, that I have allowed it to keep me from taking care of myself.

Here's the deal, I'm not fat shaming anyone.  Like I said,  I believe every body is a burlesque body. I think every human being is beautiful in their own ways.  Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.  I don't want to hurt anyone with either the example of a fat woman on stage or a fat woman who is trying to take care of her mental/physical health.  I am doing this to be a healthier human being.  I realize I can be fat and healthy; for that matter, my goal weight will still have me at "obese" but my blood pressure and blood sugars will be normal.  I will be able to tie my shoes without an issue.  I will be more flexible.  My endurance will be higher.  I will be able to tie and buckle my shoes without issues.  I will be able to play and keep up with the grandbaby.  I will be able to do things that I can't do now because of my size/weight.  These are things that matter to me.  The phsyical look matters some too, but not near as much as being able to be healthy matters to me.

That picture from years ago, reminded me of just how happy I was back then.  I realize life has changed a great deal since then.  I lost my son.  I had a hysterectomy and went through menopause.  I have had a 2nd back surgery and a total  knee replacement since that picture was taken.  Things have changed.  I won't be running like I did when that picture was taken.  So my body will look completely different at 180# this time; for that matter, I am not even sure if I can get to that weight or not.  I would say that the number on the scale doesn't really matter, but it does to a certain extent.  It's good to have a goal to look towards.  It's also good to be flexible.  It is also even better to have non scale goals and victories to look towards, and I have those as well.  I just want to reconnect with my happy..which comes from taking care of myself via eating healthy, exercising, playing, dancing and living my life outloud and proud.

I really hope that those fat burlesque performers that I admire do not see  my choice to take care of myself and lose weight as an afront to them or other fat people on this planet.  I in no way, shape or form want to fat shame anyone. I want to celebrate ALL bodies.  And most importantly, I want THIS body to be healthy...both phsyically and mentally.  I also realize that you can have a fat body and still be healthy; I know that is possible.  That is what I am working towards....being healthy.  I hope that is what people see.  I hope when people see me post an update about weight loss or before/after pictures, they don't see that as fat shaming, rather they see that as me celebrating my own health.  I hope they can celebrate with me.  

I have to say, that never once have I ever been afraid to lose weight because I might lose my identity.  But this time around, it is a total mind game.  I am afraid of being called a hypocrite for supporting fat people while turning around and losing weight myself.  It is a weird conondrum.  When you put yourself in a place to be seen as "fat"...really be seen and accepted as a fat burlesque performer and inspire others to accept their sensuality no matter what their size, and then you turn around to lose weight, your identity comes into question, I think.  I'm scared of being black listed by those who might see this as an afront to them, when it really has nothing to do with them or the movement of fat burlesque performers.  It's about my health....both physical and mental.

I talked to Tracy about this last night.  He said not to listen to them.  He also said I didn't have to make anything public or post about it.  But you know me, I post about anything and everything, and the last time I did this weight loss/getting healthy thing, I blogged about it as a way of staying accountable to myself. It is part of my process, and I do not want to be scared to process the way that helps me.  So coming out publicly in this way is scary for me.  I feel as though I am putting myself out there for the world to bully me.....for being fat wanting to get healthy. (I never though I would have to type that.)  Fat shaming by fat people is a real thing.  Fat guilt is a real thing.   I just want to live my life to the fullest no matter what my size is; it just so happens that the size I am at currently prevents me from doing alot of the things I love to/or want  to do.

So, there you have it.  My thoughts on the journey that I have begun.  Here's to a healthier Martha.  Here's to accepting where I am in the moment and not worrying about yesterday's pictures but creating new ones that reflect who I am today.  My happy today will look and feel completely different than my happy looked and felt in 2013.....I just want to get there :).  One step at a time.  And admitting my fear is the first step......

What the Redwood Taught Me

 So I live this magical cool life that I do not take for granted one iota.  Just about 2 weeks ago, my husband and I decided we needed a vacation, and after some deliberating, we decided on Redwood National and State Parks.

During Covid, we really wanted to go some place where there wasn't going to be a lot of people, and we love being out in nature.  We decided with all of the hiking required for the Redwoods, that it might be quieter and less people-y.  We were correct for the most part.  We found a lovely old, but updated, motel right in the middle of the Redwoods.  It had a 1/2 mile trail from the motel to a beach called Hidden Beach.  No one went there, and we had it private for most of the time.  It was lovely.   But the real show stopper was the Redwood Trees.

These magnificent creations do not have enough words to describe them.  As humans we are always told we are just tiny specs in this great big ol' world.  I don't think there is another way to feel so tiny on this planet as you do when you are standing among these gentle giants.  People can drive cars through them, walk through them, get married in them find shelter in them, and learn some huge lessons from them.  I have been among them before at Muir Woods Park near  San Francisco, but the National and  State parks really get you in the feels with these big trees.

We hiked for miles along beautiful trail that lead us over water crossings from little creeks to bigger rivers.  We couldn't' even make it to a couple of trails cause of the car we were driving.  But the trails we did make it to were magical.  We knew part of Star Wars was filmed in the Redwoods, but I'm telling you, the Hobbit could have been filmed there too.  These forests were gorgeous and moving.

As we walked through the groves of giant trees, I saw burned out trunks, but when I look up higher I saw that this giant tree with a burnet out log was miraculously alive and thriving.  Then I saw other redwoods that were injured at the base of the tree and then healed itself by creating another trunk another part of the tree..and many times, it grew multiple parts that all formed one big huge giant tree at the bottom, but had separate tree tops. Sometimes these trees. formed circles that they called Fairy Circles or Cathedrals.  Either way, standing in the middle of them, makes you feel so tiny..but also so loved and special.  There is something so nurturing about these gentle giants.

As I looked at these trees and stood among them, it dawned on me that these trees were a lot of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).  A human goes through a trauma and we are hurt.  We do not get killed..we survived.  But in order to survive, pieces (our alters or head mates) of us splitter off and hold memories and grow on their own, while the main part of us (the host) continues to grow and eventually heal when we are ready.  The Redwood can be burned and charred, but it continues to grow strait and true..and sometimes it splits and grows a beautiful cathedral that people love coming to and celebrating life with.  Sometimes that is what DID is like for me.  I have been traumatized and split into multiple personalities, but we all grow and thrive.  Each one of my personalities is a beautiful piece of me and I would not be me without them.  Unlike the beautiful Redwood tree, the personalities (head mates/alters) that I have will eventually be integrated and I will be back to one personality, but in the mean time, taking lessons from the giant Coastal Redwood this weekend has healed my soul.

January 31, 2019 The Decade In Review

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.