i'm a survivor

i've been thinking a lot lately.

(i know...i can almost hear the "oh, great"s and eye rolling that must be going on.  at least from hubby, who teases me about the phrase because it almost always involves me asking for money or changing plans or something to that effect.)

the truth is...i've been thinking about myself, about who i am, who i've become, and what i've been through.  where i am now.

i miss my blog.  but i'm having a hard time coming up with things to write about, or time to write it in.  take now, for instance.  what do i write about?  while my children are pretty much amazing and my husband definitely has the hottest rear end in the world, i'm sure the rest of you don't want to hear about just that.  and due to neglect, i don't even know how many readers i have left.  (so if you're reading this, thanks.)

there have been a lot of changes in my life, especially within the last six months.  many of which i'm not at liberty to discuss, whether out of respect for others they concern or a desire for privacy.  it's kind of been a hard six months in a lot of ways, but also good in that i feel like i'm climbing out of the hole.

i saw a new doctor, which is good.  i hadn't seen a med doctor for far too long because our insurance changed and i didn't want to look for one.  (i HATE seeing new doctors...rehashing the history...trying to get comfortable and trust them...especially in situations like mine, where there is a ton of very uncomfortable history to deal with.)  my therapist recommended one, however, and so i finally called and made an appointment.  it was long overdue.  the doctor i'd seen previously told me that i wasn't bipolar, i just had a hormone imbalance.  she put me on progesterone and a bunch of supplements and told me everything would be better.  things did get better for awhile, but not by a whole lot.  then (stupid me) i stopped taking the progesterone.  bad idea.  i went back on it....did a little better....still had issues.  big, angry, sobbing, mood-swinging issues.  suffice it to say, my family wanted to throw me out the window.

new doctor tried very hard not to roll his eyes and very tactfully told me while he didn't have all of the information my previous doctor had, he found it very difficult to believe that i had a progesterone deficiency.  (i pretty much got the feeling he thought she was an idiot.)  he then proceeded to tell me that from everything he had heard it was very likely i'd been dealing with bipolar disorder since the age of approximately 13, if not sooner.  combine that with the PTSD and typical teenage angst, it's no wonder i had so many issues.

so....double the dose of my mood-stabilizer (lamictal) and add in an SNRI (effexor), life is sunshine and roses again.  i'm happier and have more energy than i've had in who knows how long (if ever).  hubby even told me to tell my doctor at my follow-up that he doesn't want to strangle me anymore.  (this news was met with relief....both on my part and that of my doctor, who wasn't quite sure how to handle it, heehee.)

only problem...side effects.  stupid, horrible, nasty, hateful side effects.  headaches.  dizzyness.  more headaches.  fatigue.  (more energy and fatigue...go figure.  but it's happening.)  yawning.  (i know, weird, right?)  and headaches.  since i already suffer from debilitating migraines, the daily headaches are not well-received.  i am hoping that they will start getting better soon.  apparently one in ten patients on these meds experience headaches.  yuck.

so where was i going with this?  oh yeah....blog.  life changes.  all that.  back to the blog.

i got an email several months ago from a doctoral student at purdue (personal blog here), who is doing her dissertation (professional portfolio here) on trauma and blogging.  my blog was one of several she's chosen to use in her studies.  i'm really excited about this.  it made me really analyze my blog and the purpose it has served.

first, as an outlet to me.  a really important one.  when trauma made it physically impossible to speak...i literally could not get words out....my fingers would still function on a keyboard.

when i needed someone to listen, i had a whole network of fellow survivors, family, and friends.  people who were there for me, who really understood what i was saying, because they've lived it, too.

i also have a place that encompasses me.  maybe someday, in thirty or forty or fifty years, this blog will still be out there for people to read, maybe even my children. 

my story has provided hope for others.  this is so humbling to me.  i decided a long time ago that if i had to live through hell, i might as well make it worth something.  so i took my personal hell and put it out there for the whole world to see, hoping that someone else out there would read it and feel not so alone.  since i started this blog in 2008, i have received so many comments and emails from people telling me thank you, that they have hope for themselves because of my healing, that they don't feel so isolated.  isolation is a terrifying place to be....so if i can offer one person a feeling of connection, then that is pretty amazing to me.

it's been a kind of documentation of my healing.  the ups and downs.  the moments of blackest despair, when i wasn't even sure life was worth living, when i was convinced i would never be happy again.  the days where i was content, the nights of anxiety and fear, the help i got in therapy.  the participation in blog carnivals and groups, research on child abuse, the ability to think and feel.  and, ultimately, the regaining of my strength and power, the taking back of myself from my abuser.

so here i am.  i don't believe my journey of healing will ever really end, but having put most of the abuse behind me, i have myself to deal with.  my lack of self-esteem, the bipolar disorder and the impulsiveness and mood-swings that come with it.  medication, therapy, doctors....a lot more future to deal with, even though i've got twenty-six years of past behind me.

four years ago i never, in a million years, could have predicted i'd be right here, sitting at my kitchen table, having lived through everything i have.  three years i ago i never would have seen the happiness i've found in the past few weeks.  two years ago i would have had a panic attack just thinking about approaching my abuser.  one year ago i was really dealing with the abuse....

....and now here i am.  imperfect.  flawed.  but optimistic.  cautiously happy.  hopeful.  still struggling with wrapping my head around this bipolar thing, but i've accepted it.  i don't like it, but i accept it.  i'm still kind of embarrassed by it, even though it's not my fault, but that's a discussion for another day.

my name is cornnut.  i'm twenty-six years old, i'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a blogger, an artist, a student, a pianist, and a survivor.  because i truly have survived.

(now you can go sing that destiny's child song, because i know you're all hearing it in your heads.)

(and if you made it this far into this horrendously long and rather disjointed blog post, thanks.)

i would like a definitive answer, please

my life has been so full of ups and downs lately i just don't know what to do here. tuesday i saw a new doctor. my new EMDR therapist referred me to her for med management and also to have labs done, because she suspected i might have a hormone imbalance that is interfering with my treatment. she also said that she doesn't really think i'm bipolar, that it's more of a symptom than a diagnosis. besides, my regular med doc moved (which i'm bummed about because i really liked her) so i needed a new one anyway.

well i sat down and within about ten minutes of me giving her my medical history and background she told me i made it really easy for her--that it was obvious i had a major hormone imbalance. she thinks that all of my mood swings, migraines, exhaustion, the problems i have with pregnancy, issues with meds that don't work, etc. is all because i have too much estrogen and not enough progesterone. obviously she can't be 100% sure because i haven't had the labs done yet. so i'm getting the labs done and hopefully we'll have some better answers. i really liked her and she definitely seemed like she knew what she was talking about. she told me she's pretty much positive that i'm not bipolar. argh. am i, or aren't i?

tomorrow i have my second appointment with my EMDR therapist. i'm looking forward to it. the EMDR we did last time helped and hasn't "worn off" as i was kind of concerned that it would. she has me reading this book called "the ultramind solution" that talks about how our bodies affect mental disorders. it's really interesting. the doctor that wrote it says that systemic issues such as hormone imbalances, food allergies (especially things like gluten) and poor nutrition, toxic environments, brain inflammation, stress, lack of energy and poor digestion can call work together to give us "broken brains." his theory is that when you take out the bad stuff and add the good to your body as a whole it will improve and sometimes get rid of things like depression, bipolar disorder, autism, alzheimers, ADHD, memory problems, etc. i'm only a little bit into it but so far i've learned quite a bit about my body's interaction with my brain. so we'll see if it's really something that will help or not...it seems a little gimmicky but it's worth a try, right?

so i'm really kind of frustrated. am i bipolar? am i just crazy? why is it that no one seems to know what is really going on with me? is it really just something as simple as a hormone imbalance that should have been treated YEARS ago? it it because i eat a lot of gluten? i have a whole ton of questions and no one knows any answers. i know i'm really annoyed with this, though.

EMDR and group therapy

last week i attended my first session of group therapy and my first session of EMDR.

group was awesome. i went in feeling nervous, slightly anxious and apprehensive because i didn't know what to expect. turns out i left feeling much better. i really liked the therapist that runs it, and the other three women there were all women i felt i could relate to, although not all of them have been abused.

i then went to my first EMDR session on friday, with the same therapist who runs the group. i can't tell you how anxious i was going in to this session, with a therapist i barely knew. when i left i was in a state of disbelief--it really works! she had me think of a memory, my worst memory, and rate it on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being not disturbing at all, 10 being the most disturbing memory ever.) for me this was by far a 9 or 10. just thinking about it made me cry, shake, and my chest was tight, heart beating fast, started breathing quickly--very close a full-on panic attack. she didn't make me talk about it, just had me tell her how it made me feel. "terrified" was the word i chose--then she asked me where i felt it. in my chest. so she had me concentrate on the feeling while i watched her fingers go back and forth. when she was done it had gone from a 10 to about a 7. the feeling i got was now "disgusted" and i felt sick to my stomach. she did the EMDR again. it was down to about a five and i felt tense, right through my shoulders and my neck. again the EMDR and the memory was to a three. i felt it in the back of my throat, like there were words stuck there that i couldn't get out. more EMDR and the memory was to a two. i could think about it, remember it in detail, and i felt calm and rational. no panic. no physical pain. it was incredible. now several days later it is the same thing--this memory no longer gives me a panic attack. i can't wait to continue doing this to get rid of my past anxieties that still haunt me.

i have been feeling a lot better the past three or so days since the EMDR, and even since i went to group therapy and had a session with my regular therapist. especially since the crash i had after my stupid hypomanic phase last week. i am so glad that my husband and children are so great and supportive of me.

and, on a plus note, my husband's cousin got married on saturday. my mother and sister in law made this beautiful cake for their wedding dinner:

if you've ever seen the movie Steel Magnolias you will understand the hilarity of this armadillo cake. if you haven't seen it, go watch it. you will love it, i promise.

i'm afraid of the dark

this thing called bipolar disorder really sucks.

i guess i never really paid a whole lot of attention to my mood swings prior to the diagnosis. but it's been obvious the past couple of weeks--and this last week i had a very obvious hypomanic phase.

hypomanic phases (from what i understand) suck worse than manic phases in the sense that you don't really get that high. i felt pretty good but it wasn't anything fantastic, it was more anxiety. i had this weird agitation going on in my chest that felt like i was going to explode at any second...like in the alien movies. seriously. i couldn't sit still, and at one point i was shaking so bad i couldn't even fold the laundry. plus side, i cleaned my house. but i was so incapable of dealing with emotion that even the smallest argument with hubby led to me freaking out and running away yet again.

i hate losing control. i HATE it. i'm tired of not being in control of myself. like i can sit back and watch myself lose control of my thoughts, emotions and even physical reaction, while the sane part of me wants so desperately to stop it, but can't. the real me is just helpless, reaching out to restrain the disorder but it always slips through my fingers, just out of reach, and i want to scream out in frustration. i cause the people i love most so much pain, frustration, confusion and anger...and all because i love them. sounds twisted, right? it's the truth. i love them so much i think they deserve better than me so i push them away. i love them so much they are the ones capable of hurting me the worst, so i push them away before they have the chance to.

it really sucks.

at least i have the love and support of my husband. i'd be totally lost, and probably dead, without him. he's helping me get the therapy i need. i'm still seeing my therapist, i have a good med doc, and tomorrow i will be seeing a new therapist to start EMDR. i am also officially going to group therapy, a group for women. it's dialectical behavior therapy and will help me to learn new skills to change my thinking and behavior patterns that cause misery and suffering to myself and those around me. we learn new skills that help with mindfulness, distress tolerance, interpersonal effectiveness, and emotion regulation. these are all things i need MAJOR help with.

so...on i go into the journey of life with bipolar disorder. off into the darkness, the scary unknown, with very little--my husband holding my hand, my therapy "team" guiding me, my friends and family cheering me on. small glimpses of positive. hopefully the darkness will begin to lessen soon, because i'm afraid of the dark.

update

things have been bad lately. with the PTSD. with my depression. and now i've been diagnosed with bipolar II. i'm on new meds, which has been a pretty difficult adjustment. i've had some issues with my parents right in the middle of this which makes things so much harder. i am so glad that i have my husband, who is so supportive and loving. i don't know what i'd do without him. and my siblings, and my in-laws, who have also been so supportive. my parents try, i know they do, but it just doesn't work out. thanks for all the support you all have given me, as well.

my therapist thinks that i was pushing myself too hard in therapy, too fast, and it just got too much to handle. she's got me backing off the workbook for a bit and she wants me to see a therapist who does EMDR. she thinks that will help get rid of a lot of the traumatic feelings i still have associated with the abuse so that i can move forward. anyone have good experiences with that?

anyway. i've got to stop dwelling on this right now. so expect a stupid frivolous post coming up next.

the time line is finished

it's been awhile since i posted...things have been pretty busy.

i finished my timeline. i haven't measured the second roll but it's probably about as long as the first. surprisingly, the last six or so years were the hardest. i really had to push myself to finish. i had an easier time writing about the actual trauma experiences than i did writing about my adult years. i have a few theories as to why.

the happiest years were my junior and senior years of high school. i had great friends, a great counselor, and i was really working hard on myself and my recovery. i took the SOLE class which helped me immensely.

then i moved out of my parents house to start college. and i made a lot of stupid choices. i got a boyfriend who was in every way wrong for me. i was overwhelmed by school and didn't really show up to class often. i was put on academic warning, then academic probation. my depression got out of control. i stayed up all night and slept all day. i lost several jobs. i distanced myself from my family and from my religion--i stopped going to church as often, reading my scriptures, writing in my journal and praying as much as i had before. i stopped going to counseling. i was doing better so i stopped working.

i married my wonderful husband and shortly after our wedding got really sick. we dealt with my illness and financial struggles. we moved, i got pregnant, and my hormones went crazy--and from there my mental health has really done kind of a nose dive. my anxiety increased. i began having flashbacks and nightmares. i've changed meds several times. my anger and behavioral problems have increased.

it was so hard to look at how well i did, then how poorly i have been doing the last few years--partly due to my own choices. i can't help but wonder how i would be doing now had i made different choices, stayed in therapy, went to class and not wasted so much time with a boyfriend that pulled me down. i'll never know.

at this point all i can do is learn from it, try to make my future better than my past. i'm in counseling and doing the homework she gives me. i'm far from perfect but i'm working harder to be better. i'm taking my meds every day and really paying attention to my behavior although i still feel out of control of it much of the time. and i also don't always see my negative behavior.

for awhile i was doing better. and i think a lot of it correlated with the fact that the nightmares stopped for a couple weeks. but the nightmares have come back, and with it the depression, the sleeplessness, the anxiety, and the overreacting. how do i stop the nightmares? i wish i knew. i'm still writing them all down but i don't know what triggers them. my therapist has me keeping a "mood log" now too to see if how i feel during the day affects the nightmares. i guess we'll see if it correlates.

i am so ready for all of this to be over. i want to be happy. i want to get along with the people around me. i want to be a better person, wife, mother, daughter, friend. i want to move on with my life instead of living in fear and anxiety and depression. is it even possible? will i ever get there? how long is it going to take me?

expressive arts carnival activity number 1

i stumbled across an expressive arts carnival today at mind parts. this activity is right up my alley...and i really wanted to participate in this carnival. each month, there will be a new creative activity. this is the first month--and the first activity is to create a wordle or other word cloud to captures the essence of a soothing activity.

for me this wasn't even a question. art. art is what brings me peace in expression. art is what allows me to release and express my thoughts and emotions when words fail. drawing, painting, even something as simple as using crayons in a coloring book brings me such childlike joy, such satisfaction. i would be lost inside my own head without my art.

working on my trauma time line

i've started putting my time line together. i printed pictures of myself from every year, plus one of my mom when she was pregnant with me. so far i've gotten through age six--right in the middle of the abuse.

this exercise started out easy. it was fun to write down all the things i did. until i got to age five...then it got really, really hard. suddenly i was recording memories and events that surrounded the abuse i went through...and i didn't want to.

i have discovered several things while preparing for and beginning this activity. the first being that the abuse started earlier than i originally thought. i always thought it started when i was about six or so, then ended just after my eighth birthday. in actuality it started when i was five, probably right around the time i began kindergarten....possibly earlier, in fact. my parents said they pinpointed it about four or five. while this doesn't change anything, at least as far as the effects of it, it is nice to have a more accurate time line.

the second thing i've discovered (that i already talked about) is that i really had a lot of good things in my life. it just seems that the bad overshadows the good, and that the effects of the abuse affected all of the good. i would like to learn to be able to separate the two.

one of the things the workbook suggests is using personal items on the time line. i went digging through my cedar chest a few days ago, looking for things. i found several cards and letters from my mother....mostly telling me that she loved me, with an undercurrent of frustration, maybe even desperation, because she was unable to connect with me. even a sense of guilt because of this...and pleading for my behavior to change. i also found a card from my aunt. of everyone in my extended family, she is the only one who has really supported me and my family through this. it seems everyone else just wants it to "go away" and have me forget about it, be all la-de-da and friends with my uncle, sweep it under the rug and go on living life as if nothing happened. well that's just not possible. i also think that my grandma has been very supportive. i feel no support at all from anyone else, and most of them (from what i understand) think that what my uncle did to me was just a hormonal teenage boy "experimenting." bull. a hormonal teenage boy experiments with porn or a girlfriend, NOT with a five year old.

the other thing i noticed....my journals. i kept a journal almost every day from the first day of seventh grade through the end of my senior year of high school. i even have journals that were inconsistently written in from fourth grade through sixth, and a few since i've been out of high school. until recently, i never once wrote anything about being abused in these journals. not ONCE. nothing about therapy, about court proceedings, about how i felt about it. pages and pages about my depression and struggles getting along with my family, pages and pages about feeling suicidal, NOTHING about WHY i felt that way. i deliberately avoided mentioning any of this. why? because writing it down made it real. writing it down forced me to think about it, to acknowledge it, to deal with it....and i didn't want to. it made it permanent.

well, it is permanent. my past will not change, no matter how much i avoid it. so i'm no longer avoiding it. here i am, 24 years old, and i am writing about and dealing with my childhood.

last night i was "dealing" with my childhood, working on my time line, and i called my dad to talk to him about dates and such that corresponded with the court proceedings. (i had found the case law from our state supreme court online, so i had a date for that, but not for anything else.) while dad didn't remember, i did end up talking to him for two hours. and he opened up to me, and i to him, more than ever before, i think. i've always felt closest to my dad out of anyone in my family overall. part of that, i think, is his personality. my mom is like me---emotional, mood swings, passionate. my dad is pretty even keel. if he's happy, sad, excited, mad....there isn't much variation, which has always felt more stable to me. i've always wanted to make my parents proud, make them happy, but haven't felt i was able to...and feel quite often that they aren't proud of me. last night, though, my dad told me that he was glad that i was his daughter and that he is proud of me.

i really needed to hear that.

then hubby came home and i talked to him about the things my dad and i had talked about, and was able to open up to him, and cuddle, and i felt happy. in spite of the underlying pain and anxiety and fear....i was happy, laying in his arms.

moments like those don't happen often for me. i want to remember those moments forever.

commitment and a trauma time line

i've finished chapter two of my workbook. this chapter was all about how to stay safe while working through the rest of the exercises....especially in chapter three. the third chapter is about the trauma itself. writing about it, remembering it, documenting it.

at the very end of chapter two there is a quote from goethe:

"until one is committed, there is hesitancy...the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred....Begin it now."

so here it is. i'm committed. i'm saying it for the whole world to hear. i am committed to doing this work. i am committed to overcoming this difficult part of my life.

i've started chapter three. i've done a trauma inventory--what it is i've been through. i've done an exercise on my positive traits (which was very difficult for me to do). i did an inventory and scale of the frequency and severity of my PTSD symptoms. my next project? a trauma timeline. here is the exercise:

One way to record your trauma history is to draw a trauma time line. Take a roll of white paper and, beginning at the end of the roll, mark spaces for each of the years of your life on a horizontal line. This line can be a foot or many feet long. You may want to start the beginning of your life a few inches from the end of the roll so you can record any events that happened prior to its beginning. Did your mother have any serious prebirth events that could have impacted you (was she battered, did she fall, was she in an accident, was there a significant death during her pregnancy, was she confined to bed, etc.)?

Put any significant events that happened to you throughout your life above the horizontal line. These can be positive or neutral events (e.g., starting school, moving to a new home, first date), as well as traumatic events (e.g., illness, injury, abuse). Below the line, record events that happened to others who are important to you; these should be events that impacted you as an observer or witness but did not directly happen to you (deaths, births, etc.). You may use photos, magazine pictures, personal items, or drawings of yourself and others, placing them above or below the line to symbolize events, persons, and places.

If you wish, you can extend your time line into the future beyond your present age and put in some of your future intentions. This time line has been called "the Torah of trauma" by some individuals. You may find that constructing a time line is too retraumatizing to do alone; seek professional help if you need to. Also, take your time. Do a year or a few years at a time and then take a break. Take time to relax, regroup, and unwind.

i am a bit overwhelmed by this. last night i spent two hours on the phone with my mom, brainstorming the events of my life. i have to say that while most of what we talked about weren't really "significant" or "major" events, there were a lot of things that i didn't remember. and most of the things i recalled right away were negative....but overall, the pages of notes i took list positive events. this really kind of opened my eyes, i think. the negative experiences overshadow much of my life. but i had so many positive experiences...good, happy times with my family, my friends, life events that i just don't think about often enough.

so tomorrow night i will be starting on this time line. wish me luck.

my safe place

chapter two of my PTSD workbook is about safety--physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. there are some exercises about finding out how safe you are, when you feel safest, and how to help yourself feel safer when you are threatened.

i have learned several things about myself by doing these activities.

1. i perceive threats to my emotional safety often and tend to overreact to them.
2. physically i never worry about my safety when hubby is around.
3. i "protect" myself from threats with anger--hurting and pushing away those who are "threatening" me, mostly my family, the ones i love most. the people i love the most have the greatest capacity to hurt me. i also run away, withdraw into myself, and hide under my covers. i hug my teddy bear.
4. my self-protective attempts are not successful. more often than not they end up causing more problems and putting my emotional well-being into more jeopardy.
5. i am safest when i am emotionally stable--which is rare.
6. i feel safest when i get along with those around me....when i feel LOVED. also when i feel needed.
7. intellectually i know i am loved; emotionally i don't feel that way all the time. this is more s a reflection on myself, my insecurities, than it is on those around me.
8. contention, disagreements, etc. make me feel unloved. this makes me feel threatened. this leads me to "protect" myself with anger and hurt.


the workbook suggests creating your own safe place, by imagining a location you have been (or would like to be) that makes you feel safe and secure. it needs to provide you with a sense of protection, and should have limited access--only you and those you totally trust or wish to protect can be there. think back over the course of your life to places in which you've been safe. think of what might make a place safe--its characteristics, any and all items you might want to bring, what you can hear, see, smell, etc. then you are supposed to collage or draw it in your journal.this is my safe place.

mission beach, san diego....the south shore, just by the jetty.

i am alone. the sun is setting over the sparkling water. the sky is full of brilliant colors--reds, yellows, oranges, purples. the spectacular rainbow is reflected in the waves. it is a warm day, and i feel the warmth radiate around me. i dig my toes into the hot sand, and feel the coarse texture on my skin. a slight, cool breeze blows through my hair and across my face. i close my eyes and smell the salt, hearing the waves crashing against the jetty, rolling into the shore, and the call of the gulls above my head. the brilliance of the color, of the salty ocean air permeates my body. i can think of nothing but the beauty around me.

safety. safety in color, in nature. security in warmth.

where would your safe place be?

this is me, i am (self-portrait 2)

this is the second self-portrait from the art therapy activity in my PTSD workbook.

after completing the previous four drawings, my workbook asked me to draw a second self-portrait and compare it with the first. it asks me if i see myself the same as i did when i drew the first self-portrait. this isn't really a yes or no answer to me. i guess the answer would be "mostly." after completing the first two drawings i had no idea what i would do different on this one. in fact i was contemplating not doing it at all because i had no new ideas. but then i did the life's road drawing. and i started to see myself a little bit differently. (i won't repeat it here, you can look at the life's road drawing again if you'd like.)

so...this is me. i am. i am contemplative. i am a little surprised, and a little more interested in seeing where my journey of recovery will take me.


this is me, i am (self-portrait 1)
this is my space
my life's road
my family and me

my family and me

a portrait of my family, from the art therapy activity in my PTSD workbook.

this drawing in one element turned out exactly as i had pictured--in another, nothing like the three previous drawings. i finished the line drawing and it was so beautiful to me i didn't want to add color and detail and ruin it. so it is more of a gesture drawing.

my family is facing forward, to the future...i am facing behind, stuck in the past, walking backward, unable to see where i am going, only where i have been.

this is me, i am
this is my space
my life's road

my life's road

a visual history of my life, from the art therapy activity in my PTSD workbook.

i have to say i enjoyed doing this drawing and seeing my life in this type of a visual way was really eye-opening. i now see exactly how far i have come...where my road begins, where it continues.

birth. my road is straight, it is clear, it is beautifully paved. my early childhood, while not perfect, is relatively good.

age six (approximately). the road ends...there is a deep crevice. i fall into a torrent of raging waters. i am spiraling out of control, in danger, and very much terrified and alone. here is where the abuse begins. for about two years i am lost in this river of pain and confusion.

age eight. somehow i get out of the river and make it back to the road. my road has become treacherous. a dirt road, full of so many potholes and rocks there is no way to safely travel it. i am still alone, at the edge of a precipice. i navigate the road successfully but do not escape whole...i am frequently bruised and beaten, i trip, i break my bones on the rocks, i twist my ankles in the potholes.

age eleven. my family moves, away from my uncle, away from the all-too frequent visits, and my road turns. my road is still rocky but it is slowly getting better. i make friends, good friends, true friends, who love me unconditionally. i am still being bruised and broken as i travel. a suicide attempt, broken family relationships, near desperation in crying out for help i am not receiving because no one understands my cries.

age thirteen. my parents and my family become aware of the abuse. i now have a guardrail on one side of the precipice. they get me help. they support me in beginning my recovery. my anger starts to diminish, my road starts to get better. after a few years i move from a dirt road to a paved road. it is still bumpy, still had holes and rocks, but my bruising becomes less and i stop breaking my bones.

age sixteen. i move out of state. while a huge change in my road it turns out to be a positive one. my road continues to improve. i make more good friends, friends who will influence me in ways i never thought possible--for the better. my art really takes off and i begin using it as therapy. i enjoy school, i get a good job, life is looking up.

age eighteen. i have a wonderful counselor and attend SOLE. i am the happiest i have ever been. i actually begin to love my life. while not perfect, while i still struggle, i am doing better overall. my relationships with my family, especially my parents, improves. my self-esteem improves some. i am on the uphill to recovery and happiness. i leave home to attend college.

age nineteen. all of the progress i made seems to slip away. i lose my focus on school and recovery, so i have time to play with a boyfriend who only drags me down. i finally break free of that relationship and things get better again. i meet hubby, who lifts me up. i had damaged myself so much since leaving home that i never quite reach my peak happiness again. the real world of bills, of family stresses, of school stresses, of recovery kept on the backburner catches up to me. with my relationship with hubby comes another guardrail--on the other side. he is aware of my past, loves me and supports me, and pushes me to be better.

age twenty. my road turns again. i get married. the road gets smoother. i am happy with hubby, in spite of the rocks and potholes i still have....physical illness, depression, money stresses...but i have him, and i am in love. a year and a half later, a flower blooms to make my road beautiful--our wonderful son is born.

age twenty two. my road starts to go downhill. my depression and PTSD are out of control, i am suicidal, i have nightmares, i am struggling. i still have my guardrails. i begin therapy again. i improve a bit but still keep going down hill. shortly after i turn twenty two i discover i am pregnant again--a difficult time but ends in the beauty of my perfect daughter. my road continues to go downhill rapidly. my ptsd and depression are out of control. i am in therapy again...but things get worse. i am still suicidal. i have good times but my bad times get worse and worse...i decide it's time to do something about the out of control descent i am on. i switch therapists. i start really working on myself, in spite of the difficulty, in spite of the constant nightmares and recurring flashbacks.

my road continues into a fog, a dark fog, a future i cannot see. i don't know if the road goes up, or if it continues to plummet. i don't know if it gets smoother or becomes more rocky.

but i do know that after i have completed this drawing, looked at it closely, and really thought about it...there is a tiny, really tiny, piece of me that is shocked. and kind of amazed, to be honest. i've survived this road? i'm still here, still alive? i have made it through the river, traveled the road to reach my husband, and my beautiful children? i really did that? i must be stronger than i think. everyone i know and care about, who really knows me, tells me that. i never believe them. all i can see are my weaknesses, my bad times, the horrible things i do to those i care about most, the times i want to end it all. so even though most of me still believes that, that i am worthless and weak, there is that teeny tiny piece that says, "what if you're wrong about yourself...what if you really are strong?"

two drawings ago i didn't know how i was going to do another self-portrait and have it be different...but after completing this third one i think it just might have altered a bit.

this is me, i am (self-portrait 1)
this is my space

this is my space

the drawing of my world, from the art therapy activity in my PTSD workbook.

i live in a bubble, in my own little world. the things i have access to...my anger. my hurtful words, to myself and to others. my tears. my pain. and my coping mechanisms...my love for my family, my music, my art, my writing. outside of my bubble there are things waiting to get me, threatening to shatter me...nightmares, depression, flashbacks.

and my family. a ray of hope, of love, of light, reaching for me as i am reaching for them...only a little light will pass through the barrier of my bubble...i cannot quite reach them, i cannot quite get outside of my little world to be with them fully. i am trapped. while i can see them, and love them, and be near them...i am still alone.

this is me, i am (self portrait 1)

this is me, i am (self-portrait 1)

my first self-portrait for the art therapy activity in my PTSD workbook.

half in the darkness of the present, half in the prison of my past. gaping black holes of pain, of fear, of disconnect in my head and my chest...in the cognitive and emotional parts of me. looking down and away because facing myself is too painful.

art therapy activity: who i am

this is the art therapy project from chapter one of my PTSD workbook. i'm really not sure where to begin. so i am going to post the activity here--if you'd like to do it for yourself, that would be great. i want to see your drawings if you decide to post them so let me know! also, i'm doing this because writing it out myself may help me get a better idea about what i want to do.

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this exercise is a series of drawings that will give you information about who you are. these drawings were originally designed by spring (1993).

1. this is me, i am. this drawing shows you what you think about yourself. it is your self-portrait.
finished artwork posted here

2. this is my space. this drawing shows how you see your world, your position in it, and your reaction to it. do you believe you have a space in your world? what are your relationships with significant others? where do your fears, wishes, anger, depression, and personal strengths and weaknesses fit in? how do you tolerate your world in the present? do you feel isolated and withdrawn or included and part of the world around you?
finished artwork posted here

3. my life's road. this is a visual history of your life.
finished artwork posted here 

4. my family and me. this drawing is a portrait of your family and your current relationships and family system. it shows how you view your family and your position in it.
finished artwork posted here 

5. this is me, i am. this second self-portrait is completed after the three intermediate drawings are done. do you see yourself as you did before drawing the other three drawings?
finished artwork posted here 

in drawings one and five, how large are you? what facial expression do you have? what are you doing? in drawing two, draw what is important to you in your world and how your world is to you. what symbols are present? what emotions? in drawing three, show the ups and downs of your life in a linear way. is your road straight, curvy, full of hills and valleys? drawing four is self-explanatory.

what did you learn about yourself in completing these drawings?

therapy and PTSD work

it's been awhile since i've updated you all on what's going on with me. i've been working on those transformational self portraits though, and i really enjoyed doing it. i've also been really busy with my family, and with teaching piano lessons (which is going great, btw), and with everyday things.

remember how i said i was going to get a new therapist? well i did. and boy am i glad that i did. having told my last T that i was no longer going to see her, it turned into this huge drama-filled episode involving my hubby, her, and me...and it just 100% confirmed that i shouldn't be seeing her. she's all sorts of crazy herself, and seems to be all about the money. and manipulative, too, trying to get me to keep seeing her. nope, not going to.

i did find a new therapist, one that is closer to me, specializes in sexual abuse and is cheaper since my insurance will cover her. i can now see her twice a month instead of just once, which i really need. also, she communicates with me via email on the weeks that i don't go in to see her. how cool is that? she's younger and already seems to understand me better. so far i am really happy with this new situation. i've had one visit with her, and emailed her last week, and will have my second visit on thursday.

my new T has me doing a few things that have already been helping me. the first is documenting my nightmares. i have terrible nightmares almost every night, and the first thing i do in the morning is try to just forget about them. well T asked me to start writing them down. so i have been. i'm not going to lie, this is not easy. i'm then forced to remember them, think about them, write them down, and i have them in my head for the rest of the day. however...i have noticed several patterns in my nightmares and have been able to understand where they are coming from and how they relate to my feelings. i also had a nightmare that helped me remember something else from the abuse that i haven't consciously remembered before. this is a big deal considering i have so few memories of my childhood--both good and bad. getting this crap out into my conscious mind will help me put it behind me, i hope.

the second thing she has me doing is working on this workbook--a PTSD workbook. all i can say about this is WOW. i knew i had PTSD but i never really realized what it was, i guess. i knew it caused the nightmares and the flashbacks. but i didn't realize how almost all of my thoughts, behaviors, beliefs, etc. are a product of this. i have nearly finished the first chapter and already i know so much more about myself and why i act the way i do, why i think the way i do, why i struggle with myself and with relationships. this workbook puts it in terms that are really easy to understand and relate to, and has exercises that really force me to think about myself. and there is even an art therapy exercise that i am about to embark upon.

the downside to all of this is that i am struggling, really struggling, with the PTSD and flashbacks and nightmares, etc. Forcing myself to think about my past brings it right up into the present. I am anxious. I am afraid. i have had three major flashbacks and one minor one within the space of two days that have been horrific and debilitating. shaking, sobbing, screaming....i feel terror inside, ripping me to pieces. it is hard. it is really hard considering i've been burying this crap for so long that having it all come to the surface is hard to handle. luckily i have a family, specifically my husband, who loves me and supports me, when most people would just turn tail and run. i abuse that poor man so much...and as twisted as it sounds, it's because i love him. it doesn't make sense. but i love him so much i think he's better off without me, so i push him away so that i can't ruin his life any more than i have. so all i can say is that i am so grateful for his love and for his perseverance...because he sure puts up with a lot.

also by way of update, i had a visit with the dr that does NAET. very interesting. hubby thinks it's all a crock of crap, that it's a scam, but i was really surprised by it....i'm not going to take the time to write about it here but if you have specific questions, you can email me and i'd be happy to respond. i don't think i'll be doing it right now. i'm going to keep seeing my new T and see how the more traditional trauma processing goes before i start paying $40 a visit for NAET.

in other news...hubby got me pearls for mother's day. and a new pair of pants since i'm losing weight (woot woot!) and helped me make a delicious dinner. princess is seven months old and the prettiest little girl you ever did see. she is sitting on her own and starting to push up on her knees. little buddy is a ball of energy, is talking up a storm and we are pre-potty training. he's such a handsome kid it just melts my heart. i had my pic in the newspaper for the march of dimes walk which was last week, pretty cool, and the weather is pretty much fabulous. AND i didn't have nightmares last night, hallelujah.

transformational self portrait:: my ideal future self

i started several different portraits before finally deciding to finish this one. there were also several revisions before i got it the way i wanted.

to me, this portrait represents freedom. freedom from pain. freedom from depression, from flashbacks, from nightmares, from the hell that is inside my head. i have reached the top of the mountain, i am looking over the valley. i can see all the way into the distance, no more fog, no more tangles of tree branches limiting my view. the sun is rising over my new life, over the new me. i am not inhibited by negative self-perceptions. i accept myself, my body, inside and out. i am comfortable in my own skin. i feel joy and pride in my journey to the top of the mountain. i feel gratitude toward those who have helped me there, for the love and support of my husband, my children, my family, my friends, my therapist, my God.

right now i can't even imagine what that freedom feels like. but i'm determined to get there someday.


how i am now

how i was in the past

explanation of the transformational self-portrait

transformational self portrait: how i am now

i had an easier time with this self-portrait than the last. i think it's because i have been spending so much time thinking about my life lately, about how i am, about how the abuse continues to affect me.

i float around in a bubble. a very fragile bubble, drifting slowly up and down, in no real direction. occasionally a breeze comes by and pushes me, or spins me in a circle, or turns me upside down. occasionally the bubble bursts.

this bubble represents many things. including, i think, my ability to cope. my sanity. my protection. my fragile happiness and self-esteem.

i am surrounded by these straight pins ready to pop my precious bubble: conflict, self-hatred, invalidation, anger, frustration, depression, loneliness, the nightmares i loathe. hopelessness. and more often than i'd like to emit the bubble bursts and i begin free falling to the ground, completely out of control. i lash out, in an attempt to protect myself, my soft and vulnerable inner core, but instead end up hurting the ones i love most--and myself in the process.

someday i'll have something stronger than a bubble surrounding me.


how i was in the past

explanation of the transformational self-portrait

transformational self portrait: how i was in the past

i wasn't quite sure where to start with this, and to be honest it ended in a much different place than i thought it would. i knew i wanted to do a self-portrait of me as a child, so i went looking through my childhood photos and found one that spoke volumes to me.

i was six...the abuse had started, but i don't know how long exactly it had been going on. it was a candid shot, my grandmother took it. and the look on my face is the one portrayed here. sadness, loneliness, a bleak sort of numbness--detached. the next photo in the pile was one taken on the same day--a smile plastered on my face. a mask. that's what this drawing represents...the mask i forced myself to wear, i was forced to wear, to cover up what he was doing to me. surrounded by tangles of lies, of hurt, of pain, of confusion, of anguish, of darkness--webs of destruction that were wrapping themselves around me and sucking me down. hands waiting in the darkness for me. and all the while, he was telling me it was a game, it was okay, it was our little secret...and i wanted so badly to be cool, to make him happy, to be his friend instead of his obnoxious little niece. what i became was his object, his toy, his tool for his own sick mind.

this is me, in the past. this is me, six years old. this is me, what my child self still looks like inside.

explanation of the transformational self portrait