Tag Archives: PTSD

Saturday Morning

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A quiet moment at the end of the day, I had hoped for it to turn out differently.  I work up happy and well rested.  I knock out a few chores and made some delicious coffee and then sat down to enjoy some quiet, alone time with a book.  I am re-reading a book on nutrition and working on revamping my food plan.  Now that I’ve kept to my New Year resolution of quitting chocolate – I am ready to move on to phase 2.

I leisurely let the cats out of the apartment to have their morning romp and sat back down to slurp my joe.  Settled back in and comfortable, there is a knock at the door.  I get up, thinking that someone had found one of the cats.  And I open the door and there is a father and his cute three year old daughter and another older man.

They start asking me about religion.  Do I know about it?  Am I a believer?  Nope.  An atheist?  Nope.  (I used to identify as an atheist but now I don’t.  I just don’t really want to be in a category.  I am not into the statements or stigmas that each label implies.  Don’t put me in a box.   It makes me uncomfortable and itchy.)

The little girl was so cute and they were so nice.  I invited them in.  I opened a tub and pulled out my collection of plush finger puppets and she was playing with tiny fish and squid finger puppets and laughing.  The adults spoke about the scriptures, they asked me if I had read them and I said yes.  I told them some of my experience with religion and they looked uncomfortable.  I made some gestures, with some of my many finger puppets on my hand.  Might have made it more surreal.

We talked about interpretation about the scripture, they said they just could.  And so I asked them about how they can be sure that the scripture they are reading is god’s word.  Since there were so many books that weren’t included in the Bible or are in some versions of the Bible that aren’t in others.  Because as the Christians wanted to get more coverts they started to add books that were canonized and talked more about Jesus’s interaction with the sinners and the gentiles so that outsiders could be welcome.  With word that could be divinely inspired, then being repeatedly transcribed and then filtered depending on the survival/recruitment needs of the church in the year 367.

I was trying to be nice.  But then he got angry when I said I was excited about the book of Judas being preserved and restored.  Because I think Judas made the greatest sacrifice.  That really upset him.  We tried to get nice and he pulled out this Jesus menu and asked if any of these questions had ever upset me.  And I knew his answers for them and the sales technique he was using.  The older man said we’re not trying to sell anything; I looked up at him and said, really?

I said that I was starting to get triggered.  I didn’t want their god or their book.  And the tears started to pour out of my face.  So embarrassing.  I thanked them for the polite conversation, but asked them to leave.  The tiny little girl took the finger puppets off and gave me a hug.

They left.  E was woken up by the raised voices during the Judas conversation.  I grabbed my coffee.  E has spent the last 4 days with both hands painfully swollen and in an amazing amount of pain from the constant unpacking.  He’s been mostly in bed ice packing his hands.  His pain has been pretty intolerable, but that’s one of the prices you pay for being in three combat zones.  Your 20 year old body writes checks that your body has to cash forever.

They might as well have been selling crack door to door.  This is my addiction, trying to be understood by Christians.  This is where I am developmentally stuck and I don’t know where I thought I was going to get this morning.

I just wanted a nice morning: coffee, a book, smooching my hot fiancé.  But I let my ptsd in, invited it in.  When E asked me why, I just cried and said “they had a little girl”.  Part of me also thought it would be funny, but that humor isn’t for me anymore.  It’s far too expensive in my heart and mind.

For the team

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This job was a good and a hard experience.  I’ve been wondering why I put up with sexual harrassment.  First it was a whistle in the hall.  Then it was winking.  Then he paced outside my office a couple times trying to get eye contact-which I refused to give him.  Then the last time in the coffee room, I was standing next to the coffee maker and he wanted next to the creamer and he (I guess) shimmied me out of the way. But it was a full body side contact that was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

I confronted him a million times in my head, actually I did every morning on my drive to work.  I thought about how I would say it.  I didn’t feel like I could go to my boss without confronting him first, because I’m a “big girl” and I should be able to fight my own fights.

The other problem was logistical.  We rarely ran into each other.  So, I would be ready, and then ready, and then ready and then finally relax and then he would be there.  Since it was both of our jobs to be out of the office pretty much, we rarely crossed paths so when we did it was an issue.  You just couldn’t time it.

I was retisent to confront because at every corporate job I have ever had, I have dealt with sexual harrassment.  And since I am obviously the common denominator, I wanted to know if there was something in me that attracted this.  But, should I start lopping off parts of my personality?

Last night, I was thinking about it and there were like 40 guys there and three women.  The guys had this great comaraderie.  I didn’t want to spoil it.  I knew that if I told that it would be a big deal, there would be paperwork and drama.  And I didn’t want to be the new girl who changes the culture.  The feminist in me was having a rally and trying to burn my own bra in protest, it was itchy.

I thought about all the women empowerment speeches I’ve given and I felt really ashamed.  I sure feel powerful when I have a microphone, where is my voice without one?

I realized how much I had emotionally invested in keeping the peace amomg the men-folk, at my own risk.  I realized how much punishment I still take (self imposed) to keep peace, even when there shouldn’t be peace.

There shouldn’t have been peace.  I didn’t need to get bothered at work because I’m female and then not talk about it and be nervous and hypervigilant about it because I’m me.

Next time, and I’m sure there will be a next time.  I’ll just try to tell the truth.  But the truth makes me wanna hurl, I’d rather just take the cathartic beating and get the confrontation over with.

comfort

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You know how you walk into a hot shower and the water envelops you and every muscle in your body relaxes?  You just exhale and you are covered in comfort and softness and just a silent moment of peace?

I got a message on my facebook from somebody I met once who made a big, sweet impression on me.  She commented about a blog post of mine, that I have permission to share.

“Hi FB! You may not remember me – we met at a party at xxxx’s house a couple years ago, and I thought you were lovely, funny and all-around awesome. You and your boyf had recently started dating, I think, and I am so happy to hear that you’re still together all this time later! I’m not much of a Facebooker, but I log in occasionally and I’ve read some of your Feisty Boots posts – what an amazing journey you’re on. Thank you for sharing it with us and being “out” about the cult abuse; you’re brave to confront the long-term effects of their conditioning and I think, ultimately, the blog will be a large part of your healing. After all, in writing it, you’re doing what they told you NEVER to do: telling the truth in public and saying it loud. Regarding the most recent post about losing your job: honey, fuck ‘em. I’m a therapist, and I’m here to tell you that PTSD will NOT rule your life forever. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing; sooner than you imagine, PTSD will revert to being just one chapter in the book of your life, not the whole book. The circumstances that caused the PTSD will always be part of your history, but the acute PTSD symptoms will recede. Until then, be as patient and gentle with yourself as you would with a frightened child. You WERE that frightened child, and since no one protected her or stood up for her when she needed it, it’s HER fear you’re feeling now. Feel it. Notice that it passes – kind of like a seizure, no? You don’t die of it. And you won’t have PTSD-induced panic attacks forever. Remind Little FB that she’s safe now; the worst is over. Only the aftershocks remain. But while you’re in this acute phase, it’s OK to avoid the things that trigger you. If you knew a little girl who was deathly afraid of churches, would you make her enter 30 of them? ‘Course not. You and the little girl inside you deserve that same kindness and understanding. Talented as you are, you’ll find other work – that’s not going to be a big issue. And I do hope you find a good therapist, someone who’s worked with trauma survivors and can help you manage the anxiety symptoms. Are there survivor websites or online communities you’ve connected with? Sometimes they can be a good source of referrals. Meantime, please know I’m thinking of you and sending long-distance hugs… xoxo”

In a cold time of uncertainty, this response made me feel held, loved and hopeful.  Thank you sweetheart.

This entire post is copied from refocus dot org

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http://www.refocus.org/open-letter-to-clergy-helping-ex-members.html

An Open Letter to Clergy regarding helping former members of abusive churches or cults 

By Carol Giambalvo

As both the Director of Recovery Programs for the International Cultic Studies Association (ICSA) and a co-founder of reFOCUS, a support and referral network for former members of closed, intense organizations or relationships, I’ve had inquiries from clergy about how to help former members when they come to them. I’ve also had remarks from former members that clergy don’t seem to know how to help them. As a former member myself, I’ve had my own personal struggles addressing spiritual and religious issues. Hopefully I can give you some useful information and suggestions.

First, some background information. People don’t join cults. They are deceived and purposefully recruited. The majority are in some sort of normal human transition stage in life such as leaving high school for college, leaving college for the “real world”, breakup of a relationship or marriage, loss of a job, moving to a new location, retirement – and along comes a group of what seems like the most wonderful people from the most wonderful group with the most wonderful goals who show them love, acceptance, and a “higher purpose”. Many people have the mistaken idea that only troubled people from troubled families get involved in these groups. Cults don’t want troubled people. They want bright, dedicated, idealistic, energetic people to raise money, do the work of the group, and recruit new people.

So how do you help the former member? Here are some suggestions:

  • Encourage them to get information to help them understand what happened to them in the group and to help them recover from it (sources of information listed at end)
  • Understand that you will need to earn their trust – they have had their trust violated so badly by a group that looked good 
  • At times they may be triggered by words that were “loaded” in the group, by the use of some scriptures that the group twisted and emphasized, even by some hymns that were sung in the group, by dynamics – normal things that are found in healthy churches can be a source of a trigger to them. Just understand and make it okay if they need to leave a service, meeting or conversation if should this happen.
  • Understand that they may not want to share their story – they need to build healthy personal boundaries. Respect their boundaries. The groups build unhealthy boundaries between members and the “outside” world and tear down their healthy boundaries and encourage them to bear their souls and confess all to other group members and leaders. It takes time to re-establish their healthy boundaries after leaving.
  • When they need to talk, listen to them. They need a voice, on their own time.
  • Encourage them to ask questions and let them know that it’s okay to disagree.
  • They need respect and love as they struggle through their recovery issues

What are the recovery issues facing former members?

1.    Identity Crisis

  • Who am I now? For those born/raised in high demand groups, who am I?
  • What do I believe?

2. Feeling disconnected, sense of purposelessness

3. Grief

  • For the people you left behind
  • Loss of a cause
  • Loss of “belonging”
  • Losses you had to give up in order to join group
  • Loss of innocence
  • Loss of career goals; finances; belongings
  • Missing the “buzz”, the feeling of a “high” and looking for it elsewhere
  • Anger

4.    Boundary issues

  • Rebuild healthy boundaries  — creating a safe place to heal
  • It’s okay not to divulge everything to everyone
  • Learn how the group tore down your boundaries between you and other group members/leaders
  • Learn how the group built up unhealthy boundaries between you and the outside world in order to discredit outside information and feedback and make you more dependent upon the group/leader

5.    Trust issues
·      Test the waters, build up a relationship before you trust someone – develop healthy boundaries

6.    Magical Thinking of cultic group, spiritualizing everything. One needs to learn or reconnect with their critical thinking skills.

7.    Varying symptoms of post traumatic stress

  • Panic attacks
  • Floating/triggers
  • Nightmares
  • Sleep disorders
  • Inability to make decisions
  • Inability to concentrate
  • Fears not grounded in reality, fear the group was right when they told you something bad would happen to you if you left
  • Hypervigilence

8.    Difficulty with relationships and authority figures

9.    Underemployment 

Resources:

International Cultic Studies Association:  http://www.icsahome.com/infoserv_topic_collections/tpcol_exmember.asp

Again, I copied everything from refocus.org, because I wanted my readers to see this website.  This letter was very helpful to me.  Thank you Refocus.org for being there!!!

meh

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I feel stunted, halted and blocked.  The burning cinder block on my heart that I want to show you is harder to show you because it’s somebody’s current situation that is triggering my past (well, my entire life).  And it’s a hard decision to write about it.  Cause it’s about me, but it’s about them.  But they read this and I’m putting their business on the internet…

Or I’m not and this firey cinderbock stays lit and burns a hole through my chest and my gut.  I feel angry and I feel robbed and I feel hurt and I feel sorry and I want to help and I can’t and I am grieving so much.

The natural consequences of a life and a cycle can be so hard to watch.  And mindfulness is so exhausting.  And you can be learning to be mindful but still have done a lot of damage in the world and have a lot of karmic bills to pay, like I do.

Mather 10:29.  “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.”

But they still fall to the ground.  I don’t know why people do what they do.  I know that people need community fiercely.  What has to happen in a life or in a generation to make it so that staying in a cult is the right thing.

How can you hand over all of your self preservation?  I know I was learning to.  How can you hand over your children’s well being, your physical well being and your financial future.  Then I look at the ways in which I am blind to my own situation and how I do the same thing.  Goddamn cycles everywhere I look, and I have to break them all.

Will I get over this, ever?  Seems like there are people I grew up with that seem so happy (on facebook) and I really hope they are.  More than anything I hope they are.  I hope they don’t feel the cellular level betrayal and abandonment that I do.  The rage and the theft.  OK, gotta take my brain pills and get ready for work so I can be happy.

Spiritual Self Abuse?

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A lot of veterans with PTSD can’t stop watching war movies.  It is very common for people with PTSD to have trouble avoiding media that involves the subject of their trauma.  If I see a documentary on cults or religion or bible history, I will watch it obsessively.  I can’t watch movies like “Passion of the Christ” because I can’t watch violence without becoming seriously upset inside for hours.  So, I generally stick to documentaries, etc.

This is compulsive behavior for me, and since I got dealt OCD from my PTSD and have been living in a lot of stress with a new job and no stuff…  It’s been acting up.  Like my eating disorder and trichotillomania (2 not 1 for those keeping track at home) have been acting up.  I’ve been really angry for this mess of wiring in my head, and I’m still hunting for a good fit in a therapist.

“Well, you’re in the Bible belt”, is something I hear a lot at work.  And I need to learn to not let my compulsions out of my mouth via words at work.  Because one of the most successful industries here is the “church industry”, and I have been tasked with a project involving the “church industry”.  I could have turned it down in the beginning, but I didn’t want to and I was so intrigued.  But it would have been the most self-loving thing to do.

While working on this project, it’s brought a lot of churchy energy around me.  People see me working with media and iconography.  I am really into it, because I am marketing to churches and I can’t wait to see if it works.  I am so fascinated by this challenge, you know and nauseated.  People come into my work space and talk and then they talk to me about their faith.  I should probably put up some kind of boundary, but I don’t because I am sickly fascinated by how every one of them has translated and integrated a book differently.  It’s so interesting.

Yesterday was a hard day though.  I got whistled at in the hall.  I believe this was meant as a compliment.  I almost lost my shit.  To me it feels like.  Don’t forget that someone is always watching you.  Even when you think you are alone in a hallway, someone is watching you and sexualizing you.  Don’t forget you are never safe.  I told my coworker and he said that was an awesome compliment and he wishes he would get whistled at.  So that sucked.  Yesterday when this coworker said, “well you’re in the Bible belt…”  I told him that I never wanted suspenders so bad.

Then when wrapping up phase 1 of my project (yay I get a break!!!).  Someone was talking to me about their beliefs and it was ok.  He’s an animated talker.  I was sitting, he was standing.  He was talking about how people think that god the father will punish us forever in hell.  Then he said, “would a father punish a child forever?”  When he said that he was moving his arm for dramatic effect, his arm was over my head and I was looking up.  This had the effect of making me very small feeling.  His arm was coming down repeatedly (like ten times) and his hand was in the exactly grip that Pastor’s was when he was holding the PVC pipe.

I didn’t cry.

I talked to him about his loving views.  He smiled and went away.  Defense systems passed the test and all was well.  I came home about 5 hours later and lost my shit.  It was a bad day at work.  I didn’t want to go to bed, because we can’t sleep together and I really wanted to snuggle up.  So I’m up after 4.5 hours sleep ready to bang out the last day of the work week.  Tired, fragile.

back in the saddle

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The scene: A restaurant in North Carolina: women are gathering for a business networking event.  FeistyBoots enters feeling confident and comfortable, she knows this world.  It is this Leo’s domain.

The women sit to introduce themselves and talk.  FB is not accustomed to the format, but revels in not being in charge (mostly).  They perform an exercise where they are taught to create a speakers bio and FB finds this to be valuable because she hasn’t had to define herself professionally in a long time and now is as good a time as any.

FB has written hers and she thinks she’s quite clever, she usually thinks she is.  She’s ready to shine her humor on the group when someone raises their hand to go first.  They stand and read their bio.  They are a marriage and family therapist.  They specialize in loss, trauma and PTSD.  Her bio is warm but clinical, she’s got a lot of certifications to say and that can be hard while keeping an audiences interest.

She sits.

The therapist gets constructive criticism.  “Can you add more punch?  Like have YOU suffered from TRAUMA?”  “Does anyone you know have PTSD?”  Who in your family has died?

PTSD enters the restaurant.  I shudder.

I speak up.  I say as I try not to shake, “Well, this is a delicate situation, because you are talking to an anonymous group of people.  And you never know who has experienced trauma, loss or who has PTSD.  And you don’t want the effect of your introduction and marketing effort to be triggering.”  Professions like yours walk a pretty fine line.

I hear several “Oh, that makes senses, etc”.

“FB did you want to go next?”

“Sure”

I do my intro, it was not the angelic aria of awesome that I was expecting because I was feeling feelings but it came out great.

Afterwards she thanked me for my input and said it felt spot on.  I didn’t tell her I had PTSD.  I told her someone close to me was a therapist and I had had that conversation before.  I didn’t want to tell her because she had her event hat on.

And I used to hate it at events when someone who wasn’t a client would start explaining computer problems to me…  “How come when I right click my screen turns purple?”

Cause you are clicking a paint ball gun?

know what sucks

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My mom was here for 9 days and although I love her dearly, it was so hard. She’s been gone almost 2 weeks and I am still taking the big panic attack drugs. I can’t calm down. E touches me and I jump.

My brain isn’t a safe place to be. I cry at the drop of a hat. And I haven’t allowed myself to blog because I’m scared it will hurt her feelings.

But this is mine. And I have to be here. I have a flag.

Please don’t drop a hat.

That didn’t go well at all

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Two and a half hours of a complete inventory of my traumas.  A description of trauma highlights, it’s more fun if you imagine it in slow motion replays with John Madden doing the voice overs.  Then the inventory of all of my coping mechanisms and self medication strategies as well as other random psych questions.

I tried to describe my PTSD to her and I described the dissociative state where people are talking and it’s like I’m underwater and I can’t hear them.  I try to pierce through the water.

I think my open mindedness got me in a few places…  She asked if I see and hear things other people don’t and I said, “how should I know?”

She said I was going to be monitored for a couple of really scary diagnosis.  And I started to cry, a lot.  She told me to let go of the stigma and to work with her.  And I told her that those were the diagnosis I feared the most.  Basically this is a nightmare coming true moment.

She said that she wasn’t diagnosing me, just monitoring me.  At this point, I don’t want to go back.  I want to kick her in the shins and run away and maybe knife her tires.  But that’s not polite in the south.

I came home and cried for a very long time.  I didn’t want to tell E about what she said.  But I trusted us and did.  So it was good.  All of the behaviors that may look like the other diagnosis are also a part of PTSD.

But she is right.  What’s more important?  Recovery and proper treatment or ego?  I’ll do treatment as long as I’m sure I’ve got the right diagnosis.

Nervous

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I am supposed to be getting ready for a doctor’s appointment right now. A new doctor in a new state in a totally new culture. I need to get my brain meds renewed.

Will they believe me? Will they think I’m a drug chaser? It took a long time to find this combination that works for me and I found a really trusting doctor.

So, I get to walk into an office and give the whole ….PTSD…cult…beaten with PVC pipes…blah blah blah… fucking crazy at times…night terrors.

I don’t need to be committed, I just need these meds and I am working on finding a new therapist. Don’t commit me. Give me the drugs. I mean I don’t need them, but if I don’t get them I’ll be crying for a week and unable to move.

Dependence and addiction are different, and there’s a fine line. I’m off to walk a tight rope of perception. Wish me luck.