Creative Spark

I've been wanting to write this one for awhile, but couldn't really find a good way to begin.  So I'm just going to write, let the words flow, and hope for the best.  Here's hoping it helps others who might be having some of the same issues I have.

This election year has been bad.  It's been the worst election stress wise for the United States as long as I've been an adult who could vote.  Many of the comments by Donald Trump about 'those he doesn't feel he represents' which is basically anyone who isn't rich and white have triggered me.  A friend and I were talking about incidents that happened while we were driving, and the drivers behind us were so obviously stressed and driving erratically that both my friend and I felt we needed to be extra cautionary.  People all over the United States are feeling the stress from the polarization of this election.  I'm in no position to move outside of the United States, but the sheer nastiness that has surfaced during this election has cemented my decision to pursue a doctoral degree at some point for the simple reason that with a PhD I'll be able to get employment outside of the U.S.  2016 has been filled with a gaping void of suck, and like many others I've struggled to deal with it.

Like many times in my life when terrible things happened I turned to the arts to help deal.  Particularly, Lin-Manuel Miranda's Hamilton the Musical and Lindsey Stirling's album Brave Enough.  I doubt very seriously when either of these creative geniuses began writing their music they thought it might help someone through stress and trauma.  But I'm still very grateful to both of them for persevering their vision and releasing it for public consumption.  Both of these works are available for streaming on Amazon Prime if you haven't heard them.  Here are the pieces which have helped me the most, although I really can't say enough for the entirety of both.

Miranda's song Wait For It is written from Aaron Burr's point of view, which is ironic since eventually Burr shot Hamilton in a duel.  But the specific part of the song which speaks to me really speaks to anyone who's survived trauma.  Part of the healing process with trauma is patience with yourself.  The knowledge that you're going to have setbacks and that setbacks are okay because you're still alive, breathing, and better than you were when the trauma was happening helps those of us who are survivors to just keep going.  Sometimes the lyrics of a song jump out of the headphones you're listening to and scream this is you.  That's what wait for it did for me.  Here's the bit that really stands out for me, as sung by the character of Aaron Burr:

Death doesn’t discriminate
Between the sinners
And the saints
It takes and it takes and it takes
And we keep living anyway
We rise and we fall
And we break
And we make our mistakes
And if there’s a reason I’m still alive
When everyone who loves me has died
I’m willing to wait for it
I’m willing to wait for it

Wait for it

I am the one thing in life I can control

I am inimitable
I am an original

I’m not falling behind or running late

I’m not standing still
I am lying in wait

For me specifically, I'm lying in wait to allow myself to heal.  There are so many things in our lives that we can't control, but believing that we can heal, and become whole again is something we can do.  I listen to this song a lot, and thank Lin-Manuel Miranda every time I hear it.

Lindsey Stirling's new album is highly influenced by the death of her friend and band-mate, Gavi.  It is beautiful and bittersweet and is recommended for anyone who loves music.  The three main songs that have been speaking to me on her album are:  The Arena, Where Do We Go, and Don't Let this Feeling Fade.  The Arena is an instrumental track, while the other two are vocal pieces.  I'm not sure what it is about The Arena, but it helps me fight off the feelings of emptiness that my trauma brings.  Where Do We Go quite eloquently speaks of what you do when you've done all you can, and it just didn't work.  Don't Let This Feeling Fade reminds me that good things happen, you just have to remember to look for them.

Sometimes when you're highly stressed out and have been through a traumatic event creativity can help you to process and deal with those weird, convoluted feelings.  Sometimes they can give you a reason to keep waking up and face the world.  So thanks so much to all the artists out there that keep creating.  I promise you someone is looking at what you made and thanking you.

Talking with a Ghost

Mind the tags - this post is about my experience of childhood trauma.  If this triggers you I am very sorry.

There was once a little girl who had a special friend she liked to spend time with.  One night when she was spending the night with her friend the girl found a monster in the night.  She awoke in her friend’s room, but her friend wasn’t there.  She walked down the hallway and heard strange noises coming from the basement.  Walking down into that room, the girl saw her friend and her friend’s father.  Her friend’s father was doing something the girl didn’t understand to her friend, but it didn’t look like her friend liked it.  And it didn’t look like something any grown up should be doing to a child.  So the girl ran across the room and yelled at the man to stop.  The man turned to look at the girl and stared.  He said “I am a man of God.  If this was wrong then God would strike me down.”  He was quiet for a moment then he pointed at the girl. “If you tell anyone I’ll hurt your brothers.  You have to do what I tell you from now on.”  And that was when the girl understood that monsters hide behind familiar faces.

          When I decided to start blogging about what I can remember about my childhood trauma I decided to use a narrative method.  It allows me to talk about what happened and how it felt without fully pouring into that madness.  There are huge chunks in my memory from around the ages of 7-10 and I’m guessing that’s when the abuse happened, but the truth is I just can’t remember.  It’s funny what the human mind will do to protect itself.  In my case I forgot.  I learned to ignore things that didn’t make sense because looking at things too closely would tear down those walls my mind put up.  Forgetting worked for over twenty years, and then things started coming back.  Small things came to me:  I remembered I inexplicably stopped talking to my friend in middle school and never got into another conversation with her until the night we were leaving high school.  I started having dreams about that house.  I started to notice things I had done since childhood – never leaving my bedroom door closed, sleepwalking, and always keeping my finger nails long enough to scratch if need be.  Looking at these things now they all speak the same language:  possible escape.  If they door was open I might be able to get away.  Sleepwalking got me out without me even being aware of it.  And those fingernails could be quite effective in warning someone off. 

          There was a counselor I was working with that I was going to talk to about the trauma once my cancer surgery was done.  But.  He died unexpectedly and I feel like I’m dangling in the wind now.  It is HARD to find someone to open up to about this.  This is not fun to talk about.  It hurts to write about it.  But I don’t want to be a victim to that man of God anymore.  He has no power over me.  And so I’m going to write.  Until I can find another counselor who I feel safe with and won’t make my trauma worse, I will write.  Because this anger/grief/shame/not-feeling-safe needs an outlet.  Writing about this feels like talking about the ghost of my childhood.  I don’t know if I tried to talk to anyone about it when I was a child, but I do know I escaped into books.  Words helped me to survive then and they will now.  

Loss and Life in General

So far 2016 has not been an easy year for me.  Was given the skin cancer diagnosis on January 21st and things have been pretty par for the course since then.  The trials and tribulations of being married to an adult child of a narcissist (who also happens to be in complete denial of the face that his mother is a narcissist) have not gotten any easier.  This past Monday (March 7) we found out the counselor we've been working with for months died suddenly and unexpectedly.  It affected me quite profoundly and has left me feeling the loss of the support he provided.  At this point I'm not willing to even consider finding another counselor because we put in so much emotional work and I just don't feel like I can do that again anytime soon.  Building a good relationship with any counselor is crucial to getting anything constructive done and I just don't have the emotional energy available for that.  The other part of this, of course, is dealing with Donald's constant need for reassurance at the expense of my feeling of emotional stability.  It's not a good combination and with the death of our counselor the separation will probably come sooner rather than later.  The other major issue with Father Eugene's unexpected death is I'm now left with either finding another counselor who's dealt with childhood sexual trauma before or just dealing with it on my own.  And right now I just don't know how to proceed with that.

Update on the pre-op appointment is next, although if you've got a problem with needles you may want to stop reading here.

So...it might be best to talk a bit about the mass that was removed from my right eyelid in December before I get into the pre-op info.  The ophthalmologist at Langley AFB and an assistant removed the bulk of the tumor on my eyelid with a local anesthetic.  This means they used lots of eye drops the numb the hell out of my eye, and finally inserted a needle with general anesthetic several places around the eyelid and finally into the eye itself.  It sucked.  I'm not afraid of needles and could get shots all day long, but having a needled inserted into my eyeball was quite anxiety producing.  After that needle it was a piece of cake.

Now, moving on to the pre-op....the very nice dermatology specialists had several of us folks who were going to be receiving MOHS surgery to have their cancer tumors removed watch a video.  The video was great except that it talked about taking some extra tissue around the actual tumor to ensure all the cancer was removed.  That particular method isn't going to work well with me because there IS no extra tissue on the human eyelid.  The other issue the video raised that concerned me was the fact that is talked about doing multiple sessions of general anesthetic to get all the cancer.

I was less than thrilled by the idea of having a needle go into my eyeball not only once, but possibly several times.  It was a concern I raised with the surgeon who was understanding, but said the only other possibility was to put me to sleep for the day so they could do the removals as necessary.  Being put to sleep was not a thrilling idea either because I need to be able to eat frequently to manage my hypoglycemia.  There are times I'm amazed my body functions at all with the multitude of individual problems it has.  The surgeon was confident he'd be able to remove the mass in one go, but of course he can't guarantee that because once the mass is off they have to cut the skin into layers and look at each layer under a microscope to make sure they got all the cancerous tissue off.  So we decided that instead of having to go through my eye more than once he'd instead go through a nerve in my mouth.  Which I'm much more on board for, so yay I suppose.  The surgery itself is scheduled for May 10 and we've pretty much been told to expect to be at the hospital for most of the day.

The other super great thing that happened is I got the results back from the biopsy done on the other side of my face.  It's showing pre-cancerous (which means it's on its way to becoming cancerous, but isn't quite there yet) which brought me a lecture to do all the things I'm already doing when I'm in the Sun but hey, who's counting wear sunscreen and reapply every two hours, wear a wide-brimmed hat, put on clothing with SPF, and wear sunglasses.  Okay, I don't wear sunglasses all that often because I have prescription glasses, but I guess I'll be wearing them over the summer now.  Ugh.  At least I know when the hell they're going to cut my eyelid now -_-

The Road So Far

This is going to be rather a long post I suspect.  I was planning on posting an update about what's happened in the last couple of months, and then last night happened.  And last night had an epic amount of suck, so this is going to be longer than I originally thought.

Before I go any further, just a reminder that I don't use my family's real names on my blog, Twitter, or any other social media anymore.  It's to protect their privacy, but I find their online names fun as well.  Quick run down - Donald is my spouse, Bess is the girl, Lightning is the middle boy, Dare is the youngest boy, and I go by Callasyndra.  I suspect at some point the spawn will get their own social media accounts and so nothing I say about them will ever really translate to anything their friends or cyber stalkers could relate to their actual identity.

Probably the biggest thing to happen lately is that Donald and I are in counseling fucking took long enough I've only been asking for three years  with a very good counselor.  Within the first 25 minutes of the first session the counselor told Donald that his mother was controlling him.  It's amazing how he listens to other people rather than his spouse.  Donald was also told he had an adult to child relationship with mother dearest rather than the adult to adult relationship he should have with her at this point in his life.  There have been lots of eye-opening things to come out of this so far, but I'm not sure how much it's actually going to help the marriage.  The events of last night pretty much put down any of the good that came out of the sessions and quite frankly I'm sick of getting constant criticism when I'm expected to be loving and supportive all the freaking time.

I suppose at this point it would be appropriate to segue into last night's event.  Lightning's birthday was Thursday (he's 8 years old now and is amazingly healthy for having had a heart repair at a week old) and last night I took him and a couple of his friends (along with Dare) to play laser tag.  Lightning had played this once before with a friend of his and loved it, so we bought a few games for the kids to play and called it good.  Except that when we got there both of my kids freaked out.  Dare is terrified of the dark so that wasn't a huge surprise, but I wasn't expecting Lightning to flip out since he'd done this before.  The laser tag place was decorated for Halloween (which I love, but the boys tend to get really scared of spooky figures and spooky music.)  The other two boys didn't want to play laser tag if Lightning wasn't going to, so there I was with an upset kid supposed to be celebrating his birthday.  WTF.  The people who owned the place were fantastic and instead let us trade out a game of laser tag for bumper cars, which all of the kids enjoyed.  After that I took them to McDonald's since we didn't get to do the thing they'd been expecting and that seemed to be a hit as well.

Things were going fairly well and we were on the way home when I called Donald to let him know to reheat the pizza.  He tells me over the phone that we're going to have to talk about Lightning's birthday and 'his neuroses' because apparently in his opinion I'd managed to fuck up the kids' night.  Except that I have a functioning brain and pretty much saved the whole thing.  So I said he could totally be in charge of planning Lightning's birthday crap from now on.  He didn't like that idea either.  In all honesty I don't know what the hell he wants, but it really feels like he just wants me to do what he tells me to do.  Yeah that's not happening thank you very much for a functioning brain and the realization that people do not treat you this way unless they have problems.

So the dropping off of the children happened and then we went home.  Bess was waiting at the front door for me saying in quite the dramatic teenage voice "I was just going to text and ask when you were coming home."  Donald then jumped all over her for being demanding (which she was a bit, but I know she doesn't like spending much time with Donald because she feels like all he does is yell at her.)  I'm exhausted and hungry by this time (hypoglycemia is a bitch) so I go into the kitchen to eat something.  Bess and I are sitting at the table eating when I tell Donald he should really just take care of the rest of the birthday planning for Lightning.  At that point it probably would have made life easier for me if he'd just gone with it, but he didn't because "I don't think we should talk about this in front of Bess."  (Lightning has a long and varied history of freaking the hell out over things that probably wouldn't bother anyone else.  This is not a new issue.)  I honestly don't remember what all happened after that except by the end of it I was in tears.  And the one thing blaring through my brain at that point was I NEED A FUCKING DIVORCE.

So I'm going to bring up in our next counseling session that night because one of the big things the counselor has pointed out besides the mother issues is that Donald is very critical.  All the time.  And doesn't even realized he's that way.


Took a bit of time to breathe, process, and go to another counseling session before finishing up this gigantor post.  Still really irritated about the criticism, but we did talk about that in session.  Other things that are happening right now include still having problems with my PCM who for whatever reason doesn't believe I have a pain issue.  My physical therapist has noted in her progress reports that my pain isn't so much helped by physical therapy.  The last appointment with my PCM was Oct. 16 when she signed paperwork for me to get an at home TENS unit (woohoo for pain relief) but then neglected to put in the medical code for said pain relief so now I'm waiting on her.  Again.  And she didn't put in the new referral I needed for physical therapy.  It's time to change PCM's, but I need to check in with my physical therapist and see if she wants me to wait until the new referral goes through first.  It's a big PITA when people don't believe you're hurting because you're still functioning.  I just don't get it - aren't doctors given training on people with high pain tolerances?

Anyhow, we are now at the point in marriage counseling where Donald and I talk about how much we want sex/intimacy in our lives.  And the thing is....I just don't.  I don't want sex at all.  Haven't for some time and mostly think it's because of the trauma from childhood that I STILL can't fully remember.  The really very nice and experienced counselor offered to talk to me privately about the trauma I mentioned very briefly and I just may take him up on that.  Because I've been wanting to talk to someone who knows what the hell they're doing for awhile now.  But the thing is....Donald's all "I'm willing to do whatever is necessary to help you through this" and I just....don't know how to feel about that.  Because our relationship has never been focused on my needs.  So that's gonna take some time to deal with as well.

Lastly, yes this post was named after Supernatural, which Bess and I have been watching on Netflix.  We just got to see the 200th episode aptly titled Fan Fiction and oh my.  It was so very worth a rewatch.  This particular road's far from over and I don't know where it's going to go, but I'm hoping there's going to be a light at the end of that road.  Gotta work on me for a while and see how that goes.  Then I can decide on whether or not the marriage is worth all the work.

Perhaps long overdue...

I've hesitated in blogging on this particular subject as it is not comfortable.  While it took me some time to blog about the narcissist in my life, this is something that wanted to stay buried deep inside.  It didn't want to come out at all, because if it came out then I would have to acknowledge that it happened.  And I don't know many adults that want to acknowledge trauma that they can't quite remember from their childhood.  So here's a deep breath....and what I'm willing to share with the world at this point.

I'm not going to explain what trauma is.  There are so many different definitions and types and depending on who you talk to it means one thing or another.  I look at trauma as something that hurts you so badly it takes years and sometimes even a lifetime to recover from it.  If anyone wants an official definition do some searches at medical sites as well as mental health sites...all the "official" definitions can make your head spin.

I've experienced trauma as an adult that I remember clearly and at the same time it's like I was in a glass box looking at everything, but not really feeling any of it.  Lightning was diagnosed with multiple congenital heart abnormalities when he was still in utero and quite frankly that's what saved him.  There were tons of doctors and tests and I felt a bit like a lab rat through the last 1.5 months of that pregnancy, but he was born safely.  And the day after he was born he was flown in what looked like a baby rocket to have open heart surgery.  It was a horrible experience for all of us and I wouldn't wish it on anyone...he was 3 weeks old before I got to hold him.  He was in a medically induced coma the first time I saw him after he left on the baby rocket for his surgery.  It.  Was.  Awful.  But...I remember it.  And I'm very grateful every time he has a checkup where his pediatric cardiologist says his heart repair is holding.  We had one of the best surgeons for Lightning's particular procedure perform his surgery and if we are very, very lucky Lightning will never have to have another surgery.  (Many thanks to Dr. Mohan Reddy of Lucille Packard Children's Hospital for giving my son the chance to have a life.)

I don't remember what happened during my childhood that made me block so many memories.  There's a very clear suspicion that involves the father of a friend who I used to have sleepovers with....I remember going over to that house so many times and then suddenly never going there again.  I remember not talking to my friend for years.  Literally I would not ever speak to this girl and I didn't know why.  There have been dreams and speculation since I gained my master's degree, but nothing definite.  There is a quiet horror in not knowing what the hell happened to me.  There is raging anger that someone forced me to do things I didn't understand.  There is acknowledgement that I will never again be coerced into doing something I don't wish to do.  And there is patience...patience that if I get to the point where I can remember without imploding, then the memories will come back to me.  

There is tons of information on abuse in literature, but I'm more interested in trauma.  Trauma is less cruel I think than the word abuse is...not entirely sure why I feel that way, but there it is.  Because it can happen to anyone.  Nobody knows what they can't comprehend until it happens to them.  Disassociation is a tool we use to survive something we normally would not be able to deal with.  If you are a trauma survivor don't let anyone belittle your experience.  Many people will not understand what you went through.  That's okay.  If we were all traumatized there'd be all kinds of zombie apocalypse shit going on in the world.  Those of us who have experienced trauma and have climbed out of the prison it can put us in are unique.   We may have to be patient with those who don't understand....and with ourselves when we have setbacks.

I found this blog post by Michele Rosenthal to be very helpful....please share it with any others it may help  -->
http://www.healthyplace.com/blogs/traumaptsdblog/2012/11/07/is-there-a-party-in-your-ptsd-head/