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Too Real, and Too Much, and Too Bad

January 31, 2013 //
4

I’m crabby today. It’s a good day, I slept pretty well other than the nightmares, and I think I started the day in a pretty good place in spite of them. Still, I’m irritable. Hormones? Maybe. Too be fair, though, I have something ugly on my mind a lot since December and it hurts me to think about, but I am no longer allowing myself to ‘avert my eyes’ from the mess in my head.

Rape.

There. I said it. It’s a word. It has meaning, and frankly the meaning is not up for re-definition.  It should be easy to understand, easy to define – and easy to accept how common it actually is, and have the decency to be appalled and wonder why we allow it to go on.  I am angry about all the damned arguing about ‘the nature of rape’ by people trying to save a buck on legislation intended to curb it, or provide needed resources to victims, or worse still by rapists trying to rationalize or excuse their particular variety of sexual transgression. I’m so sorry (sarcasm) it’ll be expensive to help all those victims – how about fixing that? How about fewer victims? How about ‘rape is not ok‘?

Sure, I’m a rape victim, too. I’m sorry to sound so commonplace about it, but if you’re shocked by that, perhaps it would be a good idea to find out just how common it is – even in the U.S.  It’s probably easier on the heart to contemplate the overwhelming horror of rape used as a war strategy to terrify and weaken a population, rather than to consider the prevalence of military sexual trauma – rapes committed by soldiers against other soldiers, or marital rape (yes, it’s real, and no it isn’t ok), or child sexual abuse, or… yeah. All rape. None of it acceptable. Funny thing – in the abstract it’s pretty hard to find people to support and condone rape. Go ahead, ask around, I’ll wait…

I haven’t found a lot of people interested in going on the record as ‘pro rape’, myself… but as a rape victim, it gets weird really fast as soon as the reporting of a rape begins.  In my experience, it actually doesn’t matter how heinous the rape, or how violent, or how ‘obvious’ or how vigorously resisted… the hideous vicious questions come fast, questioning whether it happened, maybe it was a misunderstanding, was it consensual? Then the reminders that accusations could ruin the life of the rapist… Do rapists get anything but support?  Not very many rapists go to jail for it, or so it seems to me.

It’s on my mind because I am a victim of military sexual trauma, and I am being encouraged to submit documentation for disability compensation.  It is surprisingly difficult, and extremely painful, to have to put the mental energy into the paperwork, to have to consider it, event by event, in detail – names, places, timelines, details. The pain is enormous and I feel very alone, even though I know rape is so common I could likely just walk up to any woman I see and find myself in conversation with another victim.  I don’t want to share the pain.  I don’t want to taint my relationships with the details, or put poison into the consciousness of my loved ones.  But I have to think about it, and I have to write about it, and today it is making me very cross with the world…

I love sex, personally, and I’ve managed to remain very sex positive in spite of having a rape history, but balancing my libido, my every day sexual needs, with these feelings about this topic… I feel confused and vulnerable, and I don’t know with whom or how to talk about that.  There are a lot of people who suffer from the odd notion that women who love sex can’t be raped, or are somehow less entitled to be protected or offered support when it happens to them. There have been a lot of times in my life when it was made pretty clear to me that because I enjoy sex, value physical contact with my partners, take pleasure in pleasure, that I’m less deserving of consideration if I’m raped, or less trustworthy if I report it.  The message often seems to be ‘why didn’t you just like it’? As if there’s no difference, or as if my will and desire and consent don’t really matter. Or perhaps I should just cut the rapist some slack, since I’m ‘used equipment’ – after all, what did I lose?  I want to shout “my body is mine, I get to choose!”, but I know damned well no one is listening, and plenty of people making actual laws don’t even believe that my body should be my own to control. Read the news. I feel angry and powerless every time I think about being raped.  I hate admitting that; it feels like the rapists won.

Sometimes it just all feels like too much to bear.  I feel like I ‘just want to go home’ – like a child, going to a safe place in Daddy’s arms, during a scary storm… but there is no ‘home’ to go to that escapes this, and there are no ‘safe places’, and there is very little understanding in the world about this sort of crime, the effect it has, and the message we send to women when it is tolerated or excused.  So… I have something ugly on my mind, and it hurts, but I guess it is time to really deal with it, after all these years.  I teeter on the edge of just turning away from it, every day, and pretending it isn’t real, but that hasn’t worked so far, I’m still broken.

I need to paint… but I am terrified that any of this might hit canvas and make it somehow more visceral, more real. I actually don’t want to share this pain… it seems cruel. I am afraid, too, of what I reveal to myself… it shames me in some small way. Art should not be cowardly.

Categories Anxiety, Art, Logic & Reason, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Words

Madness, Menopause, Magnesium

January 28, 2013 //
2

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

My Eyes, My Camera, A Sunrise

January 22, 2013 //
8

I am having a very nice morning. I was musing about just how nice, and the feelings that gives me, and watching the sun rise, as I waited for my bus to work. The colors were amazing; crimson and scarlet and magenta and orange, pale streaks of mauve and a hint of lavender off to the edges, and in the foreground the contrasting darkness of the trees, bared branches of winter, reaching across those bold colors. I was struck by it and eagerly pulled out my camera (phone) to capture the amazing vista…but my camera will not photograph a sunrise. A little frustrating, but not a big deal. I keep hearing the phrase in my thoughts, though,  as I wait for the bus… “My camera will not photograph a sunrise.” I have the vague sense that as sentences go, it wants to tell me more, but I don’t find more there to know.

My brain injury is a frontal lobe injury. It effects memory and executive function, and likely has for the entirety of my adult life. I contemplate that a lot lately, and how that may have changed my experience of life, and how well/poorly I handle relationships and social interactions or make decisions. I have a lot to learn… having found out about my brain injury doesn’t change past behaviors or experiences, but it has serious potential to change my understanding of how my behaviors and experiences have evolved, what has driven my choices and decision-making, and why some things frustrate me so much (and I hope, also what I can do to improve on how I cope with those things).  I spent the solitary portion of my morning reading about memory over coffee.  I moved on to reading about executive functions while I rode in to work, and during my morning break, a short article about the frontal lobe. I read a lot. (Words work for me, mostly, although I have to read things more than once, take notes, cross reference bits I’m not sure about, and talk things through to gain an in depth understanding of a subject.) This morning I am a little awed at how easily the ‘issues’ I’ve had, challenges, bad behavior, and weirdness line up so cleanly with the information in my reading regarding frontal lobe damage and potential consequences to executive function and memory. I keep staring at the words and wondering why, if I can see these connections so easily here and now, no one looked at the list of shit I’ve been working through for so long and made the connection in the other direction? (You know… “Damn, considering X, Y, and Z, I have to wonder if you are suffering from some sort of damage that effects executive function?” I mean, seriously Medical Science, it actually seems that obvious in hindsight.)

It’s a lot to think about. I vacillate between feeling beat down to the point I can’t go on, overwhelmed to the point of giving up, and feeling like I do today; hopeful, and armed with new knowledge about how and why I am who I am, and where I can go from here with more appropriate tools.  I am hoping that gaining a deeper, more profound understanding of how my injury effects cognition, decision-making, and memory, that I can develop a better set of coping skills – more effective, more reliable, and less ‘guess work’. How do I change how I cope with my brain injury so that I am able to treat people consistently well? How do I make good decisions, and take care of me? How do I reduce the level of agitation and turmoil in my every day experience knowing now that much of it is born of simple frustration, fatigue, or challenges that are a by product of my injury? As is so often my experience, I have more questions than answers.

I need to paint – there are things I need to say that I don’t have words for; a sunrise, a memory I can’t quite remember, a portrait of a fracture I can’t see… I need to feel heard.

Categories Art, Brain Injury, Logic & Reason, Relationships, Words

What Happens if Everyone Is Nicer on a Monday?

January 21, 2013 //
3

Expectations are strange things. If I expect Mondays to suck, they generally do, and over time more so. If I spend a few minutes on Sunday evening contemplating what a great day Monday may be, my Monday seems to start in a very different way, filled with the soft quiet of unfulfilled potential rather than with the dread of ‘if this, then what else follows?’ It is a nice difference (and I owe a dear loved one a ‘thank you’ for the suggestion). It also got me thinking about expectations and how a pleasant surprise can turn a day around.

Would you like to get in on the ground floor of some fun with me? It’s along the lines of upsetting expectations, and altering our reality for the better, and it’s easy and doesn’t cost anything but a moment of will and your time, and all the choices are yours! Here is how it works – be just a little nicer on Mondays. That’s it. So many of us expect really awful Mondays. We go back to work after a weekend that always feels too short, or we wake up with the knowledge that we are among those who could be working but are not, or any one of a near infinite number of life scenarios – many of which include the expectation that ‘Mondays suck’. So, to join in on this fun, we’ll be re-wiring Mondays! Treat your fellow man just a little nicer today than you might ordinarily, and see where it takes us all. It doesn’t have to be ‘let me buy your lunch’ big, either, and you don’t have to tell a lie or compromise your values – just handle each interaction in the most pleasant way you know how. Exercise what you understand about kindness, mercy, compassion, friendliness, hospitality, graciousness, good manners, helpfulness, patience.. hey, pick one and just do that! I don’t see a goal labeled ‘perfection’ on this anywhere, the word I keep using is ‘fun’.  Why ‘fun’? Because that is how I hope to appreciate the day today, any time my efforts result in an unexpected smile from another person, or a moment when it is obvious that their Monday is just a little better than they expected. If enough of us do it, what happens to what we all expect of Mondays? If it gets to be a widespread practice, how awesome would that be? How amazing to build a reputation as a culture for treating people well? We could do that, one day of the week at a time.  It’s a choice.

Ideally, of course, we couldn’t have this conversation at all. The very idea that it would come up as a suggestion is a little… well… it doesn’t say great things about who we have become as ‘civilized’ beings, does it? That there is room to suggest our world could be a better place with so little effort is rather…sad. Still, the good news there is that it actually will take very little individual effort to make our world a better place, to improve our culture, to improve our quality of life experience, even to make Mondays great days to look forward to. Small steps, and simple ideas, are not a bad starting point for change.

Today I am taking on Monday very differently.  I wonder what it will be like? I mean, after all… we are each having our own experience…

Categories Perspective, Relationships, Words

A Day Ahead

January 18, 2013 //
0

It’s very early to be writing. Ordinarily, I’d at least also be sipping coffee while I wake up and prepare for the day. Today feels like a test of my strength, my resolve, my balance, and my desire for change. No coffee, no breakfast – instead I am due for some blood work for an upcoming physical, and it is the last (I hope) big day of moving. My bad planning put them on the same morning. It is, however, morning and mornings are new beginnings. It may test me, but it’ll be an open book test…

I didn’t sleep well last night. I barely slept at all. I wasn’t especially anxious during the night, but I didn’t fall asleep easily, and I woke around 1:30 am, and struggled to return to sleep, then woke groggily to an alarm that just couldn’t have felt any less appropriate. I managed to rouse myself enough to be awake.  At least I carried last evening’s feeling of hope forward with me into the new day – that feels good.  I am eager, though, to be done with the work of the day before it has begun; I’d simply rather be at home with my family.

A few minutes in quiet contemplation of the day ahead, and I’ll be out in the world living the day and doing my best, and hopefully remaining mindful that we are each having our own experience.

Categories Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Words
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