shine in the darkness

so i'm doing something monumentally crazy.

i am putting every (well, almost every) blog post i've ever written plus all the comments i've received in a word document.

that's 4 1/2 years of blog posts.  eek!

granted, the last two or so of those years i haven't posted much.  but still--that's a lot of word document editing!

why, you ask?

well, because i can't afford to have one of those awesome hard-bound books printed that you can order online.  so instead i'll have my inkjet printer and copy paper.  but you know what?  it works.

as i've been going back and copy/pasting all of my posts and comments, i'm amazed at how much i've changed.  when i first started blogging, buddy was only 9 months old.  now he's five, and i have a second child--princess, who is 3.  i've moved four times, once across the country.  i've been to who knows how many therapists, been on and off who knows how many medications.

the biggest change of all?  how i FEEL.

sure, i still struggle with depression occasionally.  but, it's OCCASIONALLY now, not every day.  i was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and put on medication that actually works.  i saw a therapist that really helped.  My PTSD combined with the bipolar nearly ended my life--and now pretty much every symptom of PTSD is gone.  there are still some, and it still pops up unexpectedly, but it no longer rules my life.

i forgave my abuser.

i moved on.

my marriage is stronger, i think.  i'm more mature.  i graduated college with a 2-year degree--a huge accomplishment for me.  i can look at the world with eyes less jaded by mental illness and the lingering effects of abuse.

so what's the same?

i still struggle with self-esteem.  i still worry that i'm a horrible mom, that i'm screwing my kids up.  i still loathe the laundry and my house is rarely clean--and when it is, it's usually because hubby cleaned it.

i'm still a mother.  i still am IN LOVE with being a mother.  it's hard, and as my kids get older my role evolves.  but when i hold my now three year old baby girl in the middle of the night, and run my fingers through her hair, and dry her tears--i am filled with so much love i feel as if i might burst with it.

i'm still an artist, maybe even more so--because i try harder to make more time for it.  my little art journal is great.  it doesn't take a long time to get supplies ready, or for paint to dry, or to clean up--because let's face it, sharpies pretty much rock.

i still have a mental illness.  medication is miraculous, but it's still something that i'm learning about and overcoming.  so any of you out there who are in the boat i was in a few years ago, have hope.  look at how far i've come!  i know you can do it, too.

so cry, if you need to.  throw a pillow at the wall.  scream at the top of your lungs.  write pages and pages in your journal about how hard life is.  i did it.  but also know that there's someone out there who cares about what you're going through.  i do!  maybe i don't know you, maybe i never will.  but there is one thing about me that i hope never changes: i love everyone, people i have never met, people i haven't.  it takes a lot for me to dislike someone, and even more for me to hate someone.  and i truly care about people and their lives.

so when it gets hard, just tell yourself--"cornnut loves me.  she did it, so can i."

and remember this very cliche statement--"stars can't shine without darkness."  so even if your light is dim right now, it can get brighter.  just keep shining!

i wonder if any of my friends that commented on my blog so regularly are still out there, maybe reading.  so many women who supported me when i was at my lowest.  so if you're out there, i'd love to hear from you again.  thanks for pushing me through when i needed it.

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.)

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.

---------

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.