Being Consistent: Why is it so hard?!

Why is it so damn hard to stay consistent with routines? Why, even when I have proven to myself that I benefit from having regular routines, why can I not keep them going?

The last time I posted was three weeks ago, a very long time given that I had gotten into a routine of regular posting. I worked hard to establish a routine; a rhythm, a committment, of research, journaling, photographing, drawing and posting of my impressions. Then, all of a sudden NOTHING! I might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth, dropped into an unending well, fell off one of those ten story cliffs in the Amazon and disappeared.  This is not a new pattern for me. In fact, people have commented on this throughout my life but I thought nothing of it. People I worked with would say “you’re so elusive”, “where have you been? ” or “where did you disappear to?” always accompanied by a very strange, suspicious look at me.

I’m not talking about ‘lost time’, although I certainly have experienced that too (one of these times I came home with Argo, as a puppy). No, what I’m referring to here is working on something and pursuing it with great effort and then suddenly, and out of the blue, dropping it and turning away from what I wanted. I could see this if it was not important to me, but it is incredibly frustrating because I will turn away from activities I want.

Maybe its part of the splitting; an alter taking over? Maybe, its the ups and downs of the fragmentation and mood? I don’t know.

This “dropping everything” has had the most negative impact in two areas of my life: interpersonal relations and jobs or career aspirations. In both cases, it leads to tremendous mistrust towards me and lack of friendships or positive movement in career. It is difficult to gain momentum in either case when you move forward great and then drop the ball, and repeat this pattern over and over again.

I have lost relationships this way as well as many projects, hobbies, and I have lost two businesses by simply dropping it and stepping away. I feel like I step back and throw my arms up, and turn away while everything is falling to the ground. It doesn’t matter if a situation is stressful or not, boring or not, complicated or not; I just stop and let it go. What do I do next? Typically, hang out somewhere else, more like HIDE and convince myself that “I can’t do it” or that “they aren’t interested in me anyway.” I really hate this and I want to do all I can to fix this.

I do know that I have been able to lessen this tendency by increasing routines and being even more structured through keeping notes to myself, lists and having what I need ready to go. I have also found it helpful to take breaks; give myself the ‘down time’, keep things simple and give myself encouragement to return whenever I can, even for a little bit of it.

Interestingly, over the past two weeks while I was “away”, I jotted down thoughts I wanted to share with you (over 15 of them), articles I wanted to write, areas of trauma I wanted to research and recipes I wanted to try, so there was lots to share with you. Yet, I did nothing beyond thinking about them, and laying low – out of sight, managing little.

This time, I am not giving up!

For now, please accept my apologies for my ‘absence’ and for my next set of posts as they will be out of order and may seem out of synch too. I will find out all I can about why this is, and what I, and we, can do about it, and get right back to you!

Acceptance of Mental Illness: Community

As I ride the Route 25 bus south along Don Mills road, through fifty year old neighborhoods overflowing with new faces, I feel faint, more precisely nauseous, as if there is too much information flying around, too many colors and sounds.  Every breathe seems to bring on more disorientation and now my legs feel heavy. Everything I see feels busy, the way bees forage for nectar. It  is a hot day with heavy rain and wind outside. I am a woman sitting on a bus, looking normal, wearing jeans and a red fleece jacket and a scarf as it feels cold outside; facing forward, looking like I’m going somewhere.

There is a close succession of bus stops, the wheels squeak, some people get on, others off. The few passangers on this bus rise and fall in unison over each pot hole.

Is anyone here mentally ill?  Is anyone in a stressed or panicked state?

Here is a young man with an iPod who stares out the window, calm and content. Here is a black woman with a gorgeous braided bun on top of her head. She wears pink running shoes, snuggled into a cream leather jacket. Here is a woman in her 20s, wearing a black winter coat and a Hijab that compliments her delicate eye makeup. Moisture grows and drips across the window panes.

The bus darts forward, then slams and squeaks; releasing it’s back wheels. “Are we there yet?” echoes in my head. A man walks by checking his lottery ticket.

“Next stop Thorncliffe West.”

Orderly and politely, a group of children board, whispering, then calling out to each other. A man in a wheelchair pushes himself off the bus. Everyone else follows as we have reached the subway station and the end of the line.

And so I’m here; half way to my destination. I have not stayed overwhelmed. I have quietly related to people around me, stayed present with the movements of the bus, reflected on the rhythm of each person going about their day.

Everyone is a survivor. These people are not preoccupied with their concerns as I’m sure they all have a story. It’s ridiculous, I know, and yet I find consolation in this group of strangers. I am alert and inspired!

Fighting the Panic and Anxiety

Imagine, sitting quietly, looking out onto the horizon and letting only the stress float away.

I spent the morning trying to, but unable to settle an edgy restlessness; a swarm of bees inside my chest. In the past, this would have sent me fleeing; searching for a distraction and a way to free myself. I literally had to split. I had to find someway to stop my insides from crashing together and breaking. Something inside of me, a memory perhaps, was terrified by its secret knowledge of what risk presented itself but since I have no access to it, I believed my only option was to do something now, to stop from being torn apart. Only after some significant action that met the needs of the fear, would my body settle into place- could I feel that I was back in my own skin and safe again. When nothing more could happen.

The problem: the action I took usually ended up being self-destructive. Gorging on food through one drive-thru and then another, and another; shopping all day on credit, starting a new expensive hobby; all felt like solutions but in reality were extremely harmful to myself.

Even with no obvious triggers or external stressors, a terrible pressure fell into me. I could not not move. Sometimes it felt like he was there, shadowing me from behind.  The slightest breaze irritated me, sounds thumped against me, sparked the whirl in my head. Then, I would get so mad at myself because there was nothing really there; nothing different, just a part of my mind remembering and re-living something really awful.

Today- I sit tight. I am staying put! 

The agitated flutter emerges from the bottom of my stomach, stifling my breath and slithers into my neck, arms and back down my thighs. Someone is pressing hard at my spine. It doesn’t matter that there is nothing, my mind and body are clearly under stress and the worst action I can take now is to do something that is harmful to myself in desperation to get rid of it. It’s not part of today. My body and parts of my mind think its real but I can direct as I know better.

These are the steps I took:

1. STOP.
2. BREATHE. 3 seconds in, 5 second out at least ten times
3. DRINK. A Green Protein Drink or a cup of tea or broth (ready in the fridge)
4. WRITE, DRAW or PLAY. Express the feelings and sensations. If you can’t do any of these, do something very routine and mundane like washing dishes, unpacking a box, preparing the recycling, cleaning out and sweep the garage (this is what I did). In as quiet a space as I can find as I can’t manage any extra stimuli at this point.
5. SNACK. Sit again, have 3 rice crackers with spinach, liver (organic) or whole fruit jam spread.
6. SELF-TALK. Tell yourself you are safe, absolutely safe so you can go on with your day.
7. SELF-RESPECT. Move yourself into your regular activity; one that will be good for you, make you feel proud and productive in the now. Imagine being held, rocked or congratulated. Go to work, prepare your dinner, take the dog for a walk, brush the cat, work on a project, complete an unfinished task.

The swarm of bees dissolved. I am happy, calm and secure., a little shaken up but safe and sound!

That moment was exciting.

I DID IT!! 

 

Fighting The All Powerful Fugue State

9:45am– I made it to 9:45; four and a half hours of being fairly clear and here I am loosing a grip, yet again. Even though I had a full breakfast of 2 poached eggs and flax seed bread with water (and later a coffee  at 8am), I am starving for clarity of mind; I dream of having a day where I can simply be and not worry about who I am or where I am. I had that beautiful clarity last week for a few days, but it started slipping away 3 days ago. I have no idea why, even though this is a normal pattern for me.  All I want is a mind that is clear and grounded in the now!

I have to pause to breathe in and out slowly; breathe away the frustration. I try to remember myself. I have learned over many years that sanity involves a fair bit of impersonation, not just for others, but for myself to get through.  Who am I? I was a Psychologist, an art student long ago, someone who seemed in control. I am a researcher, writer and a mom; my husband, son and parents are the observers.

This morning, I am trying to investigate the very subtle changes in clarity that are happening in my head, with the hope of fixing it. What can I do to improve the frequency of clarity and consistent presence I need?  Sometimes there are triggers I can see, hear or feel but many times I am not able to identify anything but the sensations triggered in my body. At this point, I imagine letting the feeling continue, letting it pull me away. Walk through the door to the place where other memories and experiences are. If I don’t, I feel a roil and rumble turning over starting from my pelvic bone and spine, up to my belly as if one memory were talking to another. Sometimes it really irritates me because the memory strokes my vagina. At other times there is a curling, stirring sensation against my torso; some jagged trauma is shaking me. As it feels violent and, I cannot eliminate it with insight, not even one spark, the panic attacks start. There is this great pulsing stream that travels from my chest, through my throat and into my forehead. If I am still here, I struggle to catch my breath. Today, I can slow it down, even make it disappear with steady, relaxed breathing and encouraging self-talk.

In the past, when I was not aware of my triggers or the body memories, I would immediately dissociate, sometimes to the point of amnesia and days of lost time when I would busy myself creating problems. It would not be a stretch for me to get a job and quickly get fired, commit to a project only to dump it or buy a house only to loose it when in an altered state.

10:00am– I am getting dizzy because my head is spinning and I can feel the beginning pressure of the headache that accompanies the dissociation. I need to do something, but what? I sit here feeling vague like I’m spreading thin: the fugue has started and I am not fully in command of myself.

My options:

• Do nothing and float away?
• Get really mad or feel sorry for myself?
• Take action?

With the decision to take action, I will gain some true sense of control. My action will be to get some nourishment in the form of a kale-spinach smoothie. I know it sounds terrible but it is packed with protein and essential nutrients for stress. I also know that nutrition is not a cure for mental illness but it’s something I can do for myself to take control and I do believe nutrition is part of the solution; I just haven’t figure it out yet 🙂

I pull the small packages of Kale, apple, spinach and ginger, I have stored in the freezer.

So, I think, I would like to pull this together competently and precisely. Yes, this I can do. Will it help? I will let you know.

Check out the Green Protein Drink recipe.

 

Tracking Mental Health Factors: Dissociation on the rise

Well, looks like a big mess doesn’t it?

The best laid plans of…. often go awry…..

I started tracking the variables, I suspected to be important, a couple of weeks ago; everyday rating my level of each from extremely poor (1) to really great (10) to see what I could learn. What is behind my inconsistency? Surely, I can figure this out and make it better for myself! Hey, I figured, I can use myself as a case study; use a 10 point rating to assign values to each factor everyday- what could be simpler?

I’m chuckling because the chart does reflect me perfectly in one big way: CHAOTIC!

Ok, okay…I will try to figure something out. Here goes:

• I had great clarity (thinking clearly, organized, focused) for several days but lost it over the past few days
• There were no triggers I am aware of; at most a couple
• My intake of health meals declined with an increase in dissociation
• Decline in clarity is associated with an increase in dissociation
• Relationships were also more stressed when clarity reduced
• As the clarity reduced and dissociation increased, so did my anxiety
• Doesn’t seem related to social demands or other known triggers
• Alters were not significant but felt a little today and yesterday with high levels of confusion

I have no idea why but late Friday (30th), I began to feel lighthead (typically the beginning of a state of dissociation).  I wondered if it was the slice of white bread I ate in the afternoon (I know I need to avoid gluten). Nothing else had changed. Then Saturday morning, I couldn’t concentrate or keep things straight. I kept busy with mundane, routine things (I have learned this helps), drank a lot of water, tried to eat better, but Sunday (1st) was worse.

But why?!! What can I do?!

Sunday started very unsettled (felt like something was churning in my stomach and chest- must have been an Alter) and worsened but I was able to stablize the splitting by early afternoon by shutting out a lot of stimuli (keeping to myself) and researching from my ‘to-do’ list.

Here’s what happened on Sunday (1st):

• 5:30am – woke up to walk the dog, very tired, feeling restless
• 7:00am- had breakfast (2 poached eggs), started research because I was too restless to lie down and rest
• 7:30am- anxiety increased, panic attacks started- all the while I am experiencing confusion, poor clarity (not yet fragmented, but unfocused and confused)
• 7:50am-  feel very sad, eyes well up with tears (still have no idea why)
• 8:30am- feeling much more distressed, weak, dizzy
• 8:53am- eat 2 slices of turkey and 3 rice crackers, drink water
• 9:00am- started coaching myself (self-talk: reassurance, directing myself outloud), breathing, telling myself to relax, focus on finding the information I was looking for (research on art therapy for a post)
• 11:30am- more breathing, another walk, and I did it!! I brought the anxiety and distress down, and even felt a lot of the confusion clear.

MONDAY:

Today, however, my head is more confused. Today I do have full blown fragmented thinking (back to only managing mundane tasks). Throughout the day, the dizziness worsened and I couldn’t manage my hunger or fatigue levels. I even tired to lie down for 2 hours but not a wink of sleep, and instead I had panic attacks the whole time.

Well, I tired. I tried to figure it out. I will continue to track, measure and document everyday, as there has to be some clue I am missing in amongst all this chaos. After all, solving a mystery can be fun.

I am going to target what I know I can control: eating and sleeping. So off to bed early tonight and high green/protein food tomorrow.

Let me know if you see anything I missed or anything you think I need to add to the daily tracking variables.

Try, try, try again. If at first you don’t succeed…

Good Night!

 

How to help trauma and dissociation: Create art

SAILING THROUGH STORYM SEAS © Harli Tree 2010. “Although its rough if we keep on course we will make it through large”

Cathy Malchiodi and many in her field use Expressive Arts Therapy to help victims of trauma recover. By raising peoples’ awareness of their physical and mental states, resilience and their feelings of safety. They suggest that simple aristic activities like drawing or sculpting clay can soothe the brain and activate insight which in turn helps recovery move forward.

The simplicity and effectiveness of this approach is amazing. In her initial treatment she begins by offering victims of trauma a rubber duck and asks them to build a safe place for it using materials in front of them such as, feathers, paper plates, leaves, pieces of fabric, pipe cleaners and wood scraps. Yes, it can be that simple!

[I’m chuckling at what I thought I would create with these materials- I imagined myself hiding the duck behind the paper plates, covering it with fabric and building a fence around it…. LOL! can’t get more symbolic than that!]

“This highly sensory experience, where you can actually feel the nest, pond, or whatever you build, engages the lower parts of your brain, whereas simply drawing a safe place or depicting goals require higher cognitive areas,” Malchiodi explains.

HOW TO HELP YOURSELF WITH ART:

STEP 1-Create a SAFE place or imagine it and describe it to yourself. If you need help here, follow steps and strategies laid out by Laury Rappaport as she details how to set this up. Don’t do what I did which is to take months and months to get to this point. Follow her steps as she shows you how to “clear a space”

STEP 2- Focus on paper, pencil, paint, even chalk. Place them in front of you and just relax; let go and do whatever comes to mind, even if it is for a minute. Then try again, and again.

STEP 3- Become more expressive, create and create more to help you find your story and find and support your Alters.

STEP 4- Review the expressive art of others using art to recover. Check out this beautiful article on Jaxzy Heart for lots of inspiration!

I’m at Step 5 and will let you know as soon as I move through, but for now it seems to me that simply creating more and more will naturally lead to more recovery. I will keep you posted. In the meantime, if you have strategies or “steps” that you have used, please let me know so we can help others too.

From Rage to Compassion: A mother and her daughter’s DID

In the backyard, I sit in a chair, unable to hold myself up. I steady the empty laundry basket on my lap, lean back, resting my hands on the plastic rim.  Light comes through and shines on my hands; they are damp, rough and a little red at the knuckles.

“You go along and you are fine and then all of a sudden you are in the hole again- it has to stop,” my mother continues, her sharp, bold voice cuts across from where she is standing; and still pointing at me, she adds: “There are days you act like nothing is wrong and you can handle things and then one day you don’t- you become fearful and soon you are making messes again.”

I open my mouth to ask for clarification but I’m silenced as if buried under debris. I grip the plastic rim of the basket, adjust it on my lap.

Her voice erupts and is tinged with despair and tragedy. “I need to know. Now” Her eyes study my face. She is checking for the look of dissociation. She moves in closer, her hands on her hips.

“Are you going to keep letting the fears control you or are you going to start acting like a normal person?”

It hits me in the stomach. I work hard to keep my focus on her face,  force a smile. I’m stunned but nod vaguely, adjust the basket and straighten up hard.

“What do you mean?” I say, slow and calm. She stares me down.

“Are you going to decide you’ve had enough of the fears or live this way for the rest of your life?” She is yelling now, but her eyes are sad and hard. “…because if you are, just say so- give up, stay here, but I’m old and I don’t know if I can take care of you.”

In my mind, I look away and shrug off the rage and shame rising up. I keep focused on her and say, “what do you mean?”

She scowls, leans foward, raises her voice. For a moment I am afraid, but I force myself to interrupt her.

“I just need clarification. What aren’t you seeing. I do want a better life and I am working toward that…”

“You have hit rock bottom- you’ve gone lower than bottom. Are you going to get better or not? Don’t you want to live a normal life?”

My rage is like gentleness trapped and driven crazy with sticks. It is flailing and helpless. I pull away so deeply into myself I live only in my eyes, my eyes that watch the grass shimmer in the tree’s shade, the white sheets hung on the line, the shadow of her arms as they move through the air. My ears become disconnected so I can’t understand anything; not her shouts, not my thoughts telling me to scream and run. I don’t come back to myself, usually until she is gone, sometimes not for days. This time I reassure myself, tell myself to persist-stay and try to figure this out. I imagine someone is encouraging me, cheering- go girl, they say with a hand on my shoulder.

Push it down, Don’t show my real feelings. Don’t tell.

No, you can take control. Try to say something to calm her down.

“What is it that I’m not doing?” I say soft and gentle.

She lists events; my errors from the past, re-states that they can’t trust me. I want to be knocked out now. The muscles of her face tighten, then quiver, her eyes go sharp and black and her mouth twists as if there is a despicable taste in it. I look away quickly, to the blur of green beyond the patio, for fear that my eyes will give me away. My eyes are now those of a younger child, the desperate child crouched within.

“Hey! Where did you go? Stay here,” she shouts at me without missing a beat. I comply.

In my mind, I yell at her:  STOP it. Stop talking!  With my eyes widened, I re-direct my thoughts to this present moment, re-focus on her face and open my mouth, “What do I need to do?”

She snaps back, “You should know, just think about it. What do you think you want, what is best for you?”

I have no clue! I want to shout at her. I want to slam her, tell her she is a piece of crap, that she is wrong for if I don’t I will dissolve into a shaming bucket of tears. Instead I imagine myself laughing and standing up, over her.

I breathe hard inside, tell myself its okay-I can do this, try to tell her that I am getting better, even list a few areas… I’m eating better, more clear in my thoughts, getting more exercise. Before I am even finished, she is shaking her head, “no, I don’t see anything. No. You say you’ll do something and then you don’t- I don’t trust you.” She shifts onto her other foot; a terrible grimace of disdain on her face, reddened and dazed.

I try to explain that this is due to the Alters but its no use, she is already shaking her head.

“Its not an excuse, I’m just trying to help you understand,” I add.

“I do understand, but I want to see change. Real change -you need to act like a normal person.”

I am about to give a sharp reply, but pause. I look at her face and remember that I have never seen her cry. Frequently, my mother paced the house and listed off the ways she resented her life. When she was even more unhappy, she hurled insults as loud as she could. She rushed from one chore to another, angry, cursing, yelling orders. We kept to ourselves, ignored it. But now I look at her and see her soft eyes, supple skin; she’s sweet and terrified.

Its her own torment and grief smacking me. She can’t tolerate my fragile state as it reminds her of her own inadequacies. This is a surprising, actually empowering realization.

The breeze changes direction. The tree shivers suddenly and sloshes the patio with rippling shadows. I shift the laundry basket off my lap, to my side.

“It will help if I know what you need to see.”

“You should know yourself.”

“Ok, but I want to hear what is important to you.” the snarl on her face thaws.

I know my mother. Our relationship has been all worked out for awhile. And yet, here on her patio drawn by a spark of understanding, I stand up, and peer at her with my head angled. I have never seen her from this perspective. I see what my mother must feel. In the open clear air, I witness her perspective. It is the beginning of a new way to empower myself.

 

Service Dogs Earn Well Deserved Hero Status!

You gotta love these dogs!

Photograph by Adam Ferguson: “Army Staff Sgt. Jason Cartwright bonds with his Labrador retriever, Isaac, during a mission to disrupt a Taliban supply route. Dogs are very sensitive to their handlers’ emotions. Says Jay Crafter, a trainer for the military, “If you’re having a bad day, your dog is going to have a bad day.”

Yes, you guessed it: I’m at it again. The feature article in this month’s National Geographic (June 2014) is about the service dogs who work along side military staff in Afghanstan.

Adam Ferguson, an Australian photographer, showcases the determination and passion of these service dogs, in this feature entitled: Hero Dogs: The Dogs of War. The article left me feeling extremely sad and frustrated with the lack of recognition these dogs typically get, but grateful for this celebration of their “HERO” status. The historical context and descriptions of soldier-dog partnership is, however, very intriguing. Most sad was the mention that 5% of these dogs end up with symptoms of PTSD! The terrifying experience of suffering from trauma must be horrifying for a dog. Good thing the soldiers also take special care of their partner dogs.

Photograph by Adam Ferguson. “Sergeant Bourgeois clips Oopey’s toenails before a mission in Afghanistan. Handlers care for their dogs’ every need, learning canine CPR as well as how to spot canine post-traumatic stress disorder, which afflicts some 5 percent of deployed dogs.”

While these “Dogs of War” are not the service dogs trained for PTSD, they remind me of the psychiatric service dogs I admire so much. In particular, I keep wanting to know: what is it that makes PTSD service dogs so effective?  Its easy to imagine how a dog can be trained to sniff out bombs or drugs and perform asks such as search and rescue, but how are they trained to assist with symptoms of PTSD? Anxiety, panic, depression, flashbacks; that’s enough to exhaust anyone, never mind a dog. Clearly there is no limit to what a dog can be trained to support. No job to big for these amazing dogs!

To best support a person suffering from PTSD, a dog needs to know when, and how to provide a huge variety of skills aimed at reducing the anxiety, among many other symptoms. I’d say the most important ways a dog reduce symptoms is as follows:

• Reduce, eliminate stimulation overload
• Help person get out of bed; fight lethargy
• Provide deep pressure to calm person
• Work to prevent panic by guiding/directing the person in a crowd or other threatening situation
• Arouse person from dissociation
• Prevent emotional overload
• Take control of a situation by leading the person away from a situation to an isolated area.

Quite challenging, but impressive, isn’t it?

There is even more: these dogs need to provide help during a crisis (i.e. Call 911, bring medication/drink, help with balance, assist person to steady themselves), while also helping to manage fear (i.e. keeping strangers away, increasing safety in his surroundings, getting help, providing reality checks, assisting with escape strategies).

These PTSD dogs are available across the country and while their training is expensive, there are also a variety of special funding arrangements, grants and opportunities available. They are know to make a dramatic positive impact on both the person they serve and the symptoms suffered.

The following organizations may be of some help: Freedom Service Dogs,  Assisance Dogs International, and Canines For Hope.  Pet therapy associations, local farms and the SPCA are also a good bet for where you can get a good dose of ‘loving’ and support.

May 20th: Fighting the Memory Switch

I get dressed, make my bed, and start downstairs. I pause several treads from the bottom, watching, waiting; something within me falters- a small switch, and I worry that I am being pulled elsewhere.  I won’t let myself wander into incoherence. At the same time, I don’t want to deny what my Alter may need. I am always working against the fear of lost time. First comes the pressure of tears weighing on my cheeks, and that I can’t discharge or the rash of nervousness that crawls up from my stomach. Then comes the headache, which is in no way an ordinary headache, nor is it a migraine pain either.

This pre-dissociation headache swells at the top of my head. The pain sits there heavily rather than pounding, the way a led balloon may settle in and then inflate itself. Strands of pain call out, drop bursts of shivers that travel, behind the scenes, to my ears and eyes. Confusion and insecurity skewer me in position, quickly replaces what was my true self with more and more of something else, somewhere else beyond the gate of this lightheadedness. It’s presence triggers a swath of fog and it’s expansion so forceful, it’s spread so thick, that I can’t help succumbing. It might happen in response to an event, sensation, or tone of voice. It triggers fear, but also relaxation for me. In that split-second, in a snap, I am a mass floating over and away from my body, held by the fluid spilling away that relives a memory long ago, but that is not available to me now.

 

When I cross back to this realm of relentless stimuli, the exhaustion starts. Sometimes this dissociation is accompanied by a need to disappear again through sleep, sometimes it screams relief. At other times, the voices start. They are usually low, disembodied grumblings that float in the air beside my ear or shout from inside my head. Never conversing, usually whispering; they are distinct and commanding. They can be angry, but not accusatory, and very supportive too. Always, I can distinguish the meaning, and on every occasion that I can remember, they call out directives aimed at getting me to act; to protect myself. “You stand up, tell him,” once, and “Run, now! No one will see you,” on several occasions. This state makes me horribly mistrusting of my own thoughts; in this state, I am capable of doubting everything I have to say; and yet this state when recovered also gives me insight I can use to remain in the present.

 

What, I wonder, do I need to do. This is my body. My mind is here. All that is required of me is my presence and, of course, my commitment. I conquer the desire to go quietly into the fog, to that place and what happened.  I conquer my need to let go, to re-live, to give up.

 

I close my eyes, focus on the pressure behind my eyes and wrapped around my sinuses, then shift my eyes down to my feet, in blue running shoes, on the beige carpet. I am trembling, but full of clear vision and ready, to be here. I dread these lapses into memory I can’t even remember and I suspect they are necessary. I know how suddenly they can appear and that they can happen for no reason at all that I can see; acting more intact than I feel to those around me. I conquer worry left in front of me by the disequilbrium. I descend the last three stairs, cross the foyer and enter the kitchen.

 

I think of the eggs I will poach, the writing I will accomplish. I think of walking my dog in the cool breeze. My husband has made the coffee, prepared eggs and toast for himself and me.

 

“Morning,” he says, raising his eyebrows as if he is worried but happy to see me.

 

 

 

The joy and challenge of an F-16 day!

Photographers often celebrate a perfectly clear blue sky when the sun, so high and distinct in the sky, crystallizes everything in view, and there is not a cloud to obsrtuct anywhere. Taking a photo on a day like this requires a very fast shutterspeed of F-16 to allow little light, making the beautiful possibilities endless.  Today is an F-16 day; a deep blue, clear sky . Coincidentally, and fortunately, my head is just as clear today. My thoughts are so sharp and precise that thinking is easy, and, as a result, I am efficient, positive and automatic in my activities, conversation and feelings.

It’s truly amazing!

Of course, it occurs to me that most people experience this every day, but still, I am so grateful that I can experience perfect clarity today!! I don’t know why or how this happens but thrilled just the same. I have been focusing on getting more rest, slowing down enough to reflect on decisions and actions I’m taking, testing foods for a healthier meal plan, and most important, walking more. After a couple of tough weeks, I am hopeful that I am on to something.

Now the challenge: catch up with all that I have left undone!  With my typically loose fragments of thought and images, now integrated in my mind, I am acutely aware of the many responsibilities I have left behind. Where to start? And without getting overwhelmed by all I am aware of and the imminent confusion I know will set back in.

Not having any degree of dissociation is GREAT! I will enjoy it and I will have to make sure to keep up the rest, healthy meals, walks and not over-work myself.

As I reflect on as many of the contributing factors that I can think of, that may help explain this amazing clarity (and lack of dissociation), I decide that I will track the factors I am aware of each day.  This is only anecdotal, and pretty rough with my 1-10 scale (10 is best), but let’s see what happens over a few months time.

The more we can control our individual factors, which have a negative impact on us, the more healthy we will be!

Here is he chart I am using to capture the data. I will add more as I think of them and as I find more in the scientific literature.

 

Try it, and if you do, you are welcome to send me your numbers and I will chart them for you. 🙂

[Note- since I have been struggling with so much dissociation prior to yesterday, I haven’t been able to write up the posts I have for the past couple of weeks. For this reason, you will see a few posted tomorrow that are dated earlier in the month. On the one hand, I know this is confusing, on the other the lack of illogical sequence is reflective of the impact of DID as the dissociation makes it impossible to go forward in a straight, logical sequence and consistently- but I’m working on improving that too..hopefully soon…LOL!!]