Archives for category: Post Traumatic Stress
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Madness, Menopause, Magnesium

January 28, 2013 //
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I’ve been told by more than one professional of one sort or another that I would “probably calm down after menopause”.  Glossing over how that observation always seemed to trivialize my experience, diminish me as a free will adult, and offer little present-day hope, it was also something I’ve held onto for a long time… it will be all be better…eventually… like magic… without effort.  Just a simple biological, chemical change in my reproductive functionality and I will be well and whole and somehow saner and more balanced.  Let’s be real – that sounds too good to be true, and even if it is true, wouldn’t it be a ludicrous failure to manage my affairs in an adult way to simply sit around throwing random tantrums and waiting for menopause? My hormones and I have put my loved ones through hell, more than once.  I’ve even dared to say, out loud, that I am ‘not high maintenance’ and even ‘not especially moody’. Wow.

I am… high maintenance, and then some. In spite of myself.  I’m moody, too – especially moody, and rather often.  I have indulged in tantrums that go so far beyond what could be considered acceptable from an adult I’m lucky I still get invited to parties by proper grown ups.  I can do better than this – can’t I?  I’ve read my share of ‘self help’ books, and mostly they haven’t done much in the way of help, because… ready for it? They’re just books. In spite of the lack of action on their part, and mine, a few outstanding books have stood out… and I go back to them again and again, to learn more than the words on the pages. Brain injury, PTSD, the slow march toward menopause… I still choose my actions, don’t I? Well, I guess I don’t always – but it sounds like a good starting point. (Do I get a ‘starting point’ at 49? Extraordinary!)

So, thoughtful, mindful, well-chosen action, considerate of my loved ones and associates and fellow-man – and doing my best to ‘take care of me’, too… it seems a good approach. It’s easy on paper – that’s what makes the ‘self help’ industry thrive. The ideas are so simple, so effective – and like fad diets, they probably all work.  If I do them.  That reminds me, a healthy diet, a good fitness plan, managed and adequate rest, harmonious healthy relationships all add up to thriving, don’t they? Does it even take money? Is a book even necessary? (Not always; this weekend I enjoyed the opportunity to share how helpful regular baths in Epsom salts have been for stabilizing my mood and helping me sleep. A man in line with me at the store could not resist asking what I needed all the Epsom salts for, and it was clearly on the order of a lifeline to hear something as simple and inexpensive as Epsom salts have given me so much relief; it was clear from our exchange that both he and his wife are suffering through her change.)

I did my best this weekend to choose my words and actions well, to nurture my loved ones and not take their experiences personally, to take care of my own basic needs, and where I could to assist my loved ones in meeting theirs, too. It was a pretty great weekend.  I suspect it makes for a dull blog post, but I feel pretty good today.

Happy Monday! Being nicer today feels easy…

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Categories Brain Injury, Epsom salts, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, Words

Connectivity

January 24, 2013 //
4

Even in the digital age, we are each having our own experience.

I know I’m having my own experience, because so much of it is entirely unshared, and in some cases perhaps even un-shareable. By the end of 2012 I was well on my way to a full collapse of my understanding of myself, emotionally, intellectually, philosophically, even historically.  Choices that once seemed obvious, had become questionable beyond the point of my own ability to consider the questions with clarity, my anxiety had become unmanageable, an event in the news hit my consciousness and destroyed a big piece of my everyday understanding of my sexuality, my hormones march ever onward toward menopause, and new information about my own experience came to light, leaving me confused and introspective as I entered the new year. What a new year it has been, so far… If the value of time and events is measured in their intensity, impact, and significance, then 2013 may well prove to be one of the most important years of my life…my life. My experience. I rather doubt that most people around me have any real awareness of my internal turmoil, even my partners. They are also having their own experiences.

I find it complicated when I work on my priorities, my goals, or try to identify my needs and wants in a clear and simple way because, although I am having my own experience, I am at least somewhat aware that my experience has elements shared with others. Our perspectives may differ, probably do differ, but those common elements become the foundation stones of shared understanding, conversation, emotional bonding, and a feeling of being connected. I like feeling connected, but it doesn’t always come easily to me. Lately, I often have difficulties feeling connected, even in very close relationships. The easy course of action is to attribute the difficulty to the challenge of the moment, whatever that may be, but when I’m honest with myself it is bigger than that, and needs my attention.

49 seems like an appropriate age for an identity crisis, I guess… but how does one connect with someone who isn’t sure who they are? I find myself wondering – acknowledging? – that it must be very hard on people who love me, and I manage a moment of sympathy and concern, before my mental nail-biting returns to figuring out the puzzle that is me. I struggle with figuring out what needs to be shared, what would be ‘over sharing’.  My friends, partners, or lovers are not my therapist, or parents, or authority figures, and respecting their boundaries, and our relationships, really requires that I not handle my issues in a way that nudges them into one of those roles… but I am also aware that the mental health industry might actually collapse if people really share their experience more openly with people who matter to them, there would be that much less demand for those services.  Connectivity and emotional support actually matter that much to day in and day out quality of life. (If it seems I’m being over-obvious, I’ll take a moment to admit that I didn’t understand that until relatively recently in my life.)  I want to cultivate a strong connection with people I care about; I don’t always know how.  It’ll sound strange to say, perhaps I’m phrasing it badly, but I’m not sure I know how to ‘make a strong connection with myself’ right now – that can’t make it easier to connect with others.

So…I am having my own experience, and you are having yours. Maybe trying to share mine isn’t the best route to take to feel connected right now… I think today I will explore trying to let go of how badly I need to be heard, and just listen. I may learn something about feeling connected.

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Menopause, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50

Observations about Anxiety

January 15, 2013 //
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Yesterday’s pain loiters in my consciousness, an unwelcome visitor whose incessant self-centered small talk has become a sort of white noise of negative messaging in the background of my day; anxiety. My intellect, and years of experience, tell me the anxiety, although difficult to dismiss or suppress, isn’t ‘real’. Well, it isn’t real like my keyboard, my office chair, my desk, or the sounds of humanity all around me. It’s a very different sort of ‘real’, commanding my attention without a concrete presence.

I am trembling and nauseous, watchful and hesitant, short of breath and feeling the weight of my fears and doubts on my chest. “It will pass…” I tell myself, over and over, as I work. “Focus on work, follow the routine…” the mundane details of daily life distract and soothe…eventually.  I’m sleeping at night… that’s something. Anxiety is much worse if I am not sleeping… but the nightmares ruin my concentration and feeling of peace. Nightmares of violence, nightmares of being trapped, nightmares that are my sleeping mind alerting my waking mind that I feel overwhelmed – as if I didn’t know. The headache isn’t helping me with finding balance and feeling calm, a search that has gradually become more a puzzle than a journey, over the past year.  I hurt and it clouds my thinking.

…I need some quiet time to think. I need to spend some quality time with myself – figure things out, focus on my heart, my soul… I need to paint.  Peculiarly, although I am aware of my needs, I struggle to meet them lately. My last opportunity, and only opportunity since before the holiday season, ended badly – I was anxious almost to the point of terror, and feeling more lonely than solitary, confused, and somehow bereft of purpose and meaning, both trapped and exposed. It wasn’t a very good way to spend 24 hours and now I find myself vaguely reluctant to try again, even while I feel like I can’t manage my time well enough to get a moment alone. Being a human primate, a being of both reason and emotion, sometimes seems needlessly complicated.

I need to walk more; I can really think when I am walking. I need to be more consistent with my yoga practice; it helps me relax and be mindful and serene, and compassionate with myself. I need to talk less, and listen more. I need to find a quiet space to call my own. I have hopes that the rose garden can become that space, over time… I sure need to figure something out, solve the anxiety like a problem, somehow.

Categories Anxiety, Art, Post Traumatic Stress, Words

How Do I Find ‘Positive’, When I Feel So Negative?

January 14, 2013 //
2

Just in case you ever wonder if I have bad days, bad moments, insecurity or self doubt… you needn’t wonder.  And with the magic of modern medical science, I can tell you exactly nothing about whether my brain injury, my hormones, or my post traumatic stress bear the larger burden of my poor experience today. I can tell you, however, that exactly as with all my other bad days, bad moments, poor choices, tough times… every moment has one thing in common: me. Sometimes the choice very much seems to be between being…and… not being. It’s hard to read my own words on other days, from some other perspective, trying to make some other choice, written from some moment of hope or positive experience.

I probably cry more than a necessary amount, and lately I’ve been getting re-acqainted with despair (one of my least favorite emotions). My intellect tells me I can not count on these feelings for good decision making, but right now I doubt I can count on anything at all for good decision making. My experience feels permeated by doubt, soaked in fearfulness, wrapped in anxiety, and certainty that any solution to today will be forgotten in some tomorrow’s other problem. I feel worn down and regretful, tired and discouraged.  I lack hope.

What sucks is that broken or not, I have a decent brain that does its best to tell me something true and real. I know there are people without clean running water, without enough food to eat, without appropriate clothing to wear, without the certainty of the security of their home and person, or even entirely without a home.  So, ‘poor me‘, right? What right do I have to complain that my experience doesn’t feel good today? I don’t really know what to do with that.

Yesterday ended well (I think…), so why do I hurt so much today, over so much of yesterday? Why do I get hung up on what hurts? I’m tired. Brain tired. Heart tired. Soul tired. I do what I can… I don’t know how to make it feel like ‘enough’. There is no Rx for ‘happiness’, just me, some words, and time… the cycle of my thoughts and emotions today brings to mind the driver mired to the axles in mud, spinning his wheels, gas pedal to the floor, frustration and fury… over and over again, even though it didn’t work the first time. If I could just gain a few moments of calm, a few experiences of success, a few days of joy… maybe I could take another look at the challenges and find a solution that works… or not.

…Maybe I just need some sleep.

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Categories Brain Injury, Menopause, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Words

Stress, Weirdness, and a Good Night’s Sleep

January 10, 2013 //
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I still manage to be surprised how much really good quality sleep matters to my overall quality of life, and the enjoyment of my every day experience. Post traumatic stress can drive an intense cycle of poor sleep and anxiety; nightmares and sleep disturbances of a variety of sorts, decreasing both my ability to sleep, as well as the actual value of any sleep I am able to get. The anxiety gets worse, the longer I go without good sleep. The worse the anxiety is, the worse my sleep is. As the days go by I become more moody, more volatile, more prone to tears, less rational, less coordinated, less able to remember recent conversations or requests for task completion. The headaches become more frequent, and less responsive to treatment.  My emotional foundation begins to shift from one of relative calm and every day satisfaction to one of frustration, hostility and anger. I stop enjoying my relationships and begin to feel confrontational. I become negative, and my experiences begin to be filtered through the most negative possible interpretations and I make assumptions about the motives and intentions of others that are based on my own hostile and unhappy experience-of-the-moment. I hurt inside. I feel on edge and prone to easy tears.

…A few days of that, and I start feeling very disconnected and surreal, and unsure of the validity of my experiences. I get angrier. I feel unimportant and displaced. I feel resentful. If I can’t manage my behavior in spite of my internal experience, eventually I become a living breathing time bomb – a fight just waiting to happen. I can see it coming, in my most lucid moments, and feel helpless to prevent it, fix it, or make it stop.  It’s got to be very hard on people who love me, and who can’t see my internal experience, seeing  only reflections of it in my mood and demeanor, perhaps eventually manifesting in some horrific moment of emotional mistreatment that punishes all of us.

It’s hardest when PTSD intersects with hormonal changes (hello, menopause!), and the remaining consequences of a brain injury (good-bye childhood). Hard to know which element of my experience has it’s source with what particular challenge; is the moodiness of the moment my hormones, this time, or did that news article about that heinous rape set me on the path of a post traumatic stress freak out? Is my frustration and confusion the result of my PTSD being triggered by the neighbors yelling late at night, or the byproduct of cognitive limitations when I’m badly fatigued due to my brain injury? Do the answers to those questions matter? I know I sometimes feel like I’m juggling a number of heavy shards of glass, desperate to keep them all in the air without injury to myself or others, and it feels like more than I can bear.

Then I sleep. If I can manage my sleep in a reliably restful healthy way, everything else seems just a bit easier. The day starts better. My mood is calmer and more easily managed. I’m not overwhelmed by the little stuff.  Sleep is amazing.  (Note to Big Pharm: your pills and potions are of no value to me, the sleep they provide is not healthy, reliable or restful. Thanks, anyway, try again.)

I slept last night. Waking up was hard, but worthwhile, and the leisurely morning over a latte was a calm delight. The day feels good. The nightmares are gone in the chill gray winter morning. Over hours and days even the memories of the fear and pain will dissipate, and life will be joyful and pleasant for a while, until something else sets me off and I go through it all again. For now, I won’t think about it, until I see that fear, that panic, that fatigue in someone else’s eyes, out in the world… because one thing I do know is that I am not alone in this. There are a lot of people who hurt, who cry, who wake breathless and anxious in the night. I hope tonight they all get some sleep.

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Categories Brain Injury, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights
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