Messages

Hi, Remberin. 

I latched onto your comment about feeling safe, especially given the sharing part of a journal being shared with fellow travelers.

I sensed your need for peace. Maybe you can put some visualization into how you approach your wriings here. Maybe make this kind of a Salf-Haven resort, even. And while at Self-Haven, you have access to your own writing shack, where you can both receive thoughts (I picture thoughts as a waterfall), ponder them, and comfortably write what comes for you, with no fear of harsh literary critiques, but just you, in your world, with your past over there, but also the present-future, represented by the peaceful ambience you've created for your own nook here at Self Haven.

As it's safe, it's also open to surprise(s), which you can share via the journal. And remember, you're not writing to entertain so much as share and commiserate with those who know the pain and angst you've probably had, like those of us reading along, ready to learn along with you, share compassion, and acquaint ourselves with your inner strength and fortitude.

For my part, I always feel a tad weird bopping into another's journal like this, so take it or leave it. As I mentioned, I just felt drawn to your heartfelt pondering as you start your journal. May you find some of the peace you yearn for.   

Sorry, I find this topic irresistible and realize my previous writing here wasn't exactly very personal, except for the Saint Lucia incident which I've also wrote about in a separate post a few weeks back.

Anyway, I also recall an incident that occurred around 20 years ago that had the most impact towards changing my outlook per the Christmas hoopla. Following a childhood where I dreaded it as just another relic of people I couldn't relate to, at all.

The incident I speak of was set in motion when a friend and I decided to take in a performance by a group called the Christmas Revels. A bit skeptical that this might reorient our rather jaded view of the holiday season, my friend and I thought we might at least find some diversion, we headed out, not really expecting much.

Famous last words, those. Lots of the usual Christmas trappings seemed present, but the most prominent visual element was an enormous wreath depicting the image of what some people in ancient times called the Green Man, a symbol of the promised return of spring.

There was lots more elements (music, drama, symbolism) that set the evening apart from the usual. I was usually reticent to fall in place with overt joyful forms of expression, especially in public (you know, the introverted, scared kid routine). Until the invitation from the evening's 'jester' host to join in a ritual dance out of the seats and out of the building to a rather raucous rendition of "Lord of the Dance". I mean, I'd never been a dancer, but there we went ... and with each step (or stomp LOL), the dour view I'd arrived with melted away.

And so we danced the night away under the celebratory gaze of the Green Man himself. From that point on I started devouring all things per the season, across the ages and from various cultures. Once I'd dropped the sad old story, I I'd discovered the stories, music, dance, and a sense of [joie de vivre] .

Okay, I'm done

       

I love the variety and full scope of this season. I never understood much of this as a kid, but when I was older
looked for the stories behind the stories, as it were, I discovered an incredibly rich and varied assortment of
folklore and history that lies deep below
the modern emphasis on onlythree aspects -- the
religious saga (open to all sorts of interpretation and symbolism), the emphasis on one day only, and the cultural emphasis on commercial activity (which I call "all marketing, all the time"). All of these can then negatively affect
families, where societal pressure can overwhelm any sensitive person's well-being.

Okay -- but I always suspected there was more to the whole picture, and as a kid I came to regard it as the season where hypocrisy was the big story. Once I got older, and actually fell into a career involving folklore (myth, history, and culture) I found an incredibly rich and diverse tapestry of music, art, agricultural activities (now mostly out of sight and mind), good intentions (sticky); but also fun stuff impossible to fully hide behind the commercial frenzies.

For one thing the season is long, as it ties together events all the way from Samhain (ancient Celtic new year), All Saints/Halloween (end of October and end of harvest season), followed by numerous "saint's days" such as St. Nicholas (Dec. 6) and my personal favourite, Santa Lucia (Dec 13), then on to a slew of days around solstice time and the adopted date of Christmas, followed by such observances as the Feast of Fools (another fave), New Year's, and not concluding 'til Twelfth Night (Jan 6). It's also about that time when preps for the next planting/harvest cycle get underway. Lots of details in the meantime.

There's literally so much to the whole season as to be impossible to summarize adequately here. But that's number one for me -- just the sheer magnitude of the full season, not just the one big day emphasized now.

Along the way, there's great music (especially in the folk/classical genres), artistic expession (plays, art pieces), etc. There's groups that revive and note all of these activities (such as Christmas Revels in Boston, USA)  which have survived and seek to revive much of what has been obscured.

My own favorite observance involves the Santa Lucia observances, especially as they survive in Italy but which are more prominent in Sweden with its emphasis heavy on light's return to the darkening world. It's import to me is deeply personal  and involves a significant part of my therapy experience just a few years ago, a time of incredible darkness for me. This isn't the place for details, but it is one way the 'season' became even more relevant for me.

With that, I'll leave off with the revived expression I like -- Happy Yule! And add -- keep looking for the stories behind the stories. They may be buried in mystery and claimed by many, but they're lots of fun, add needed whimsy and relevance when one looks for it.

Seems I did forget one thing I do sometimes, not just for dissociation but for other stressors that seem to threaten my equilibrium.

Call it a mantra or something like it. It's at least short and easy to remember when needed. Let's say I might sense some threat or imminent trigger arising, I repeat to myself (silently), on each intake of breath -- the word "Peace"; and on the outtake the word "Love" (or I switch the order, but get those two words going in my mind. That can settle me down, when I feel I might be on the edge of dissociating 'out of the zone', as it were.

Anyway, that's one thing that I've found lessens my overwhelm. I still might dissociate, but the mantra, said silently to myself, seems to lessen the entire plunge into anything truly hurtul to myself in the moment.

The only 'rule' that seems relevant to me is to go easy on oneself. I know I often would fall into these 'spells' in order to survive some of the heavy stuff memories from my early days can trigger. Sometimes I wished I could have retained more dissociative instincts, not less, as lots of heavy stuff (especially emotional) occurred when I was much older.

So my dissociation still rears up when I'm relating to the early innocent abuse days. Describing those times can be treacherous and I find myself slipping if it seems I'm entering that set of memories, and begin to feel trapped, and ... automatically dissociate (in a variety of ways, sometimes almost blacking out).

Now I at least recognize this better. Why? Once during a therapy session, I realized I'd missed my therapist's response to some info I'd presented. Starting to apologize for missing what she'd said in response, my T in a very calm manner explained that there's nothing wrong with dissociation, even when it seems to interfere with the flow of the moment. She pointed out that I'd responded appropriately, given what was being triggered in my psyche. The important thing, she noted, was that I recognized it just after its occurrence.

Recognition helped, as did her calm response, pointing out that dissociation isn't a fault of mine, at all. Now the hard part -- what to do down the line?

For me, there hasn't been a magic formula. But at least I came to accept that I'm not unhealthy to have responded this way. Rather than specifically focusing on it, though, I find that her overall acceptance of my dissociation allowed me the space to stop treating it as a huge obstacle preventing my ever  progressing. But by letting the inner hysteria overtake me when I'd feel dissociative with her or others, just recognizing the self-blame helped the most.

I finally began to see that dissociation wasn't indicative of any failure on my part. With that realization, I've slowly been able to incorporate even some of the worst abuse triggers down to tolerable levels ('tolerable' as I don't see how they'd ever totally recede).

I feel like I've been unable to lay down any solid advice on this -- everyone's probs can be vastly different. Basically my only message is to 1) be kind to yourself and 2) keep on keeping on.   

RedJenty ... greetings to a place where you can unwind some of the tension, still have doubts, and still feel welcome and OK with yourself.

While that may make us sound uniform, it's hardly the case. Lots of personalities and experiences here; and some might big crashes too.

But know what? We've all somehow wandered back here, too; sometimes it's the last haven of sanity left, where it's even allowed to spit out those overwhelming sad, angry, and unbearable emotions. And -- wonder of wonders -- be understood!

I hope you feel a bit safer to have found this place. Lots of us have been where you're coming from --  Still traveling, hoping, resilient.

Thanks for posting this, Tofu+.

The site tends to stay away from declaring its wide-ranging topics as absolute truth. Rather, it's an interesting assortment veering towards  a range of topics such as different philosophies that speak more to discovery about possibilities instead of promising recovery from one's troubles (they're so individual).

Less prescriptive than many psychological sites tend to be, just make sure your brain is turned on, and as I read somewhere the other day, open your mind but don't let your brain fall out. In other words, discernment helps the ride with whatever rough spots remain or crop up along the journey. As de Botton explains his approach, it starts with accepting that our life isn't perfect, whichh makes it even more worthwhile to explore, be curious, and live from where your heart draws you.

Along this journey, to be able to find your way through to your own peace with awareness and grace has been impressive. Thank you for sharing, with raw frankness, the intensity of what you've gone through.

May you continue to find your way forward.

  

I sometimes have certain songs pop into my thoughts while reading, especially when it involves a strong emotional pull, as this poem has done for me, blue_sky. Thank you for sharing it.

I know it's risky as other people's musical tastes don't always match mine but this tune floated into mind while reading "Sea Waves". Here's the tune -- "Be Like the Sea":

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_--OEYPCLsg&ab_channel=CathieRyan-Topic

For all who've responded so thoughtfully to my post -- a huge Thank You.

Therapy can be tricky in its initial expectations. The results that matter the most are those of ordinary life -- acceptance by another, validation, and support for a fellow human, especially for those of us who've lost almost our entire being at times; those times when we feel close to the edge.

And it's never easy -- my T may be easy-going, but also recognizes how essential it's been for me to find my own way of handling the pain that was/is so prominent in my story. Especially early on, I almost pleaded with my T for an easy, expert answer. With whatever process we worked with, the only true outcomes were those that came from my own soul, my feelings, often based on strengths she saw in me that I didn't.

That's probably more than enough of my rambles  .  I'm just grateful for your responses and hope it may have allowed others some perspective as they navigate the rough seas of our frantic search for a life worth living. 

Hi, Flitzi, you raise some intriguing thoughts about this. This won't be the most thorough answer possible, as one's character can have hundreds of variables, based on lots of disparate events, personalities, etc.

For me, I found myself for years not being able to find anything I liked about the symptoms and habits that grew out of my own bouts with cptsd. That's still there; but I've also noticed a milder attitude settling in about the overall picture too.

While I can never truly feel good about all of what constitutes my tortuous ride with cptsd, I think an apt description for how I view those times involves a 'bittersweet' take on it all.

Yes, it was truly awful, and I'm extremely bitter about it as well. Like you, I find it difficult to fully trust anyone. But I think I'm better at balancing the bitter with some milder takes, too. Growing up surrounded by extremist religious sorts who hid their vile lives behind a screen of sanctity -- yeah, it hurt deeply; AND provided me with a front row seat by which to learn first-hand (not comfortably) about bigotry, hatred, and rank hypocrisy (e.g. we 'love' you as we beat your sinfulness).

The bitter is easy; the sweet comes in learning how they slyly would dump their base view of life on others, and get away with it by calling themselves 'holy'. One advantage for me? Discernment -- I'm not only wary of but find it easier to spot those sorts of people, and not just in religious settings.

Okay, so yes, one's character is gravely affected by much of the cptsd stuff, but if one can catch their breath a wee bit of the sweet just might filter in and turn one's life towards the bittersweet.

Hi, Hope ...

I also know that feeling you're describing. If there's one thing I can't tolerate, it's stooping to violent means of expression. But this emotional/imaginary reaction can happen, and when it does, the after effect feels good. The actual triggering trauma still lies behind the present pain, but the release from allowing one's mind to unleash what was fearfully hiden while not actually harming another does wonders for one's soul.

So Congrats, and thanks for sharing the power of present mind over old wounds. In one sense, they may finally feel more distant, as they should.

What's the best thing you've ever heard from your therapist? It can be about anything, technically; but I'm curious to know how it might have affected you personally.


For myself, at the very first session, by way of introducing her approach, my T  explained: "I don't do therapy. That's what you're [me] doing. I'm here to help you accomplish that as best as I can." I was very relieved to hear it put that way, as I'd burned through several T's who had an agenda or a set methodology with no acceptable variations from their 'program'.

Finding my present T was the first time I'd been invited, allowed, and encouraged to just be myself, and not feel like a round peg being pounded into a square hole. Having survived so many years of trauma, it was ironic that, until finding her, I'd also had to survive so many therapists with whom I couldn't relate.

During a later session she noted: "The best thing about you [me] is that you're authentic." As she explained, upon hearing of my background in acting (and other experiences), she'd first wondered if maybe I was schizophrenic. It became apparent, she explained, how the acting had been one of my outlets away from my old story of  shame and victimhood.

Through the acting I was able to get outside my 'orphan' status and feel free to express myself from another angle. And find something there, and she noted that this played a huge part in my 'coming out' process. And how, in my offstage life I became less afraid to just be myself or, as she put it: "you were working your way to being the authentic person I've come to know. Yet still struggling mightily with the mess you felt trapped from your old story." That validating attitude has made a huge difference despite, as she noted, all the leftover sludge from before. Yes, it still can seem to hurt me, but through the therapeutic interchenge I've noticed I have other options.

 With so much grief and hurt held inside for so long, I realized I'd found a friend/T who could allow my whole BEING as valid and worthwhile;  to begin feeling some deep healing, beginning with fully accepting the deepest parts of my being to finally emerge into the light on trails leading away from my past.  Never as easy or sure as that sounds, but at least I felt encouraged by her caring expertise.

She's also keen to recognize my habit of turning against myself. I recall once when I had to admit that something she had said I must have missed, slipping into dissociation. She was quick to respond that dissociation wasn't a fault, it was quite normal for abuse survivors, and I needn't apologize or feel ashame for. This was new for me, to have this recognition of how I was really doing okay, and not to feel  guilty about these sorts of symptoms. The many other therapists were never this compassionate, could even be very judgemental, as if having symptoms was breaking the rules. Huh?

TRIGGER WARNING NEXT 4 PARAGRAPH

*During the early times of our time together, she deftly handled a deep suicidal ideation that was part of my funk. My plans were there, and I felt like I could tumble the whole way without a lot of prompting; everything had bubbled up to the point of no return.

**Without panic, she chalenged me to give life a chance. Then one day, I slipped a mostly burnt candle into my gear and arrived for therapy ready for some clarity to somehow surface. From her, from me, I didn't really know how the resolution might occur. During the session, I kept grasping the candle stub in my pocket.

***I'll spare you the details, but by session's end, I drew the candle out and requested that we light it there, and I felt drawn to pledge to hold off on any plans for a while (this became a long-term commitment a few sessions later).

****As a folklorist of sorts, later on a further metaphorical 'candle' was lit when I realized that the date of that session -- December 13 (former Solstice date) -- was the long-established observation of St. Lucia's Day in Sweden and elsewhere. The legend tells the tale of how on that day Sancta Lucia, a refugee fleeing persecution and death, shared the light with others. That the therapy session which 'saved' me happened on that day (without prior knowledge; just a feeling to bring a candle) struck me as more than a trivial coincidence.

*****END OF TRIGGER WARNING

There's been many other things she's said, and she's also allowed me to say, that has nourished my journey into this new story. I'm wondering if some others on this forum might also have found something their T has shared about or with you that has created a similar sense of well-being during your up and down struggles to make peace with the leftovers of cptsd's impact on your life.

Thanks for wading through this rather lengthy post. And if you're so inclined, perhaps there's something per your therapist experience -- pro or con -- you might deem worthy of sharing.

Thanks for reading.

These little twists, turns, and even major surprises has often evolved from depths of anger and despair, for instance, to more acceptance (NOT at all the same as approval). Finally removed from so much of the deep sadness I felt trapped by, I've been able to discern navigating my own way out. It can be very slow, but it happens; all of a sudden one's outlook shifts, if one can stay open to its possibility (very hard but worth it).

While I'd never wish any of the things that occurred on anyone, I can see now how I've been able to build bridges to find more comfort for myself. As they say, it's still a work in progress, yet I've often been pleasantly surprised when I realize how far along I've come. Indeed, surprise has been a great teacher for me on this journey, aided by an enormous sense of humour which has been mentioned in a few posts on OOTS recently.

  I've been riding the humour bandwagon ever since I realized that it helped me survive most of the times. I also learned I had to keep it secret from the abusive, grim environment of my youth. Humour was also huge later in life, when I landed in an employment situation with a world-class narcissist.


Much of this fits with a quote I ran across recently from American philosopher/psychologist William James, who lived at the end of the 19th century. He noted that "...the ultimate common sense is a sense of humor."