Papa Coco's Recovery Journal

[Papa Coco]

Journal Entry for Saturday, February 15

Of all the various therapies I've partaken in, MDMA + IFS Therapy seems to be helping me the most. The MDMA was just one 4-hour session in July last year, but I've been profoundly changed ever since. I would say that I had the experience that many articles have been written about by those who were changed after only one treatment. Cured? No. But changed for the better, yes. I understand that the goal in trauma therapy is progress rather than perfection, and MDMA certainly made a vast improvement on how I experience life. CPTSD is something that can't really be cured. A cure would mean I no longer have the past I had. But nothing can change my past. It was a traumatic past and I will always be a guy who came from a traumatic past. I'm just getting a little better at accepting it all.

IFS Therapy is unblending the gnarled-up wad of personalities that hide within my consciousness. As I meet each various part, I achieve a tiny bit more clarity about the mechanics of why I react to life in the myriad ways that I do.

In last week's therapy session, I met two parts that are, quite frankly, freaking me out.

I started by telling my therapist that I had a deep fear in me that I call dread. I wake up in dread a lot. Terrified of the world. Money. Relationships. Health. All these things that threaten my safety. My therapist (T) was in the room with me. He leaned in and very politely asked this dread part if we could talk together for a moment. But I was struggling to find this dread part. I could feel him but I couldn't see him. (I'm having epiphanies as I write this now. Writing is therapy for me. As I write this journal entry, I'm processing this and gaining a deeper understanding: I can see now why he wouldn't show us his face during session. He's been hiding for 60 years. He's really good at it. And hiding is the only thing he knows how to do). I was working to try and put a face to this frightened lad while T was talking to him, trying to coax him out with kindness and compassion when the unexpected happened. I felt and saw (envisioned) a full-sized alligator lunge at T from the region of my face and mouth. T and I were both surprised by this monster. We tried talking to it, but our hour was almost up, and we were only able to identify that this monster lives in me and is both helping me and terrifying me at the same time.

After living with this alligator and dread duo for a few days I've been able to move toward understanding them a little bit. I'm starting to see how they have been forging my reactions to trauma for the duration of my entire life. I put 2 and 2 together this morning and was able to see this: For years, I've defined my experience of life as the feeling that I'm living in a cage with a sleeping monster and that my greatest fear is that someone outside my cage will wake that monster up. I've felt like I have this secret that will annihilate me if it ever comes out. I hide from people who might "out me", or "wake up the monster that wants to kill me." My life has been dedicated to keeping a secret that has almost killed me many times. I believe it is because I hid my CSA so well that I have never lost my fear of being discovered. I truly believed my own family would kill me if they had known what I was going through. It seems that after the CSA ended, and most of my FOO has died of old age, I seem to have forgotten to stop feeling like I have to protect a secret that would have killed me back then. My IFS Part, Dread, along with my IFS part, Alligator, are relics from the past who didn't know the war is over and are still living in the secrets that ended 60 years ago. They're like those stories of Japanese soldiers found hiding in caves on pacific islands who were discovered years after WWII ended. They didn't know the war was over, so they remained in fight mode for years after they needed to.

Today, Saturday, on my own, without T's help, I'm working to forge a relationship with both this protective alligator and my own terrified part who has been living in my body with this alligator for 60 years. I'm aware that this post is a bit odd. Some might think I'm crazy, but I've learned that when a secret is making me miserable, the best way to stop being miserable is tell everyone the secret. When I open up and share the crazy that lives inside me, it sort of opens the cage door and lets that crazy leave me. I guess this must be what the old saying "The truth will set you free" means.

All those times I've written or talked about feeling like I'm in a cage with a monster was more literal than I had realized. There is a part living inside me who feels trapped with this monster and spends every hour of every day in dread. Some nights this Dread person must have free run of my entire mind because I wake up already in mortal terror. Like most people, I look for what is causing the dread, and I think I was wrong to do that. The dread is there because it's there. I blame money problems, health problems, losses of loved ones...but what if the dread is just dread and every time I try to identify the reason for the dread I'm actually distracting myself from it so I don't have to feel his terror with him? I become a fixer. Fixers are not helpers. They're usually causing more problems than they're solving. I end up being the fixer who tries to appease the dread by assigning blame. Well, money, health, war, climate change, these are stressors, but the dread is coming from a lifetime of living in shame that I wanted to hide from. If I go broke, get sick, need help, I'll be exposing my shame. Dread knows this. He feels a horror that I've never been able to fully grasp. I remember, as a child, feeling a horror so strong I couldn't bear it. All the time. That horror is still in me. And it's not because of money or health or relationships or climate change...it's because I didn't know the war was over and I'm still feeling that horror.

Most of my IFS parts come to me in visions and feelings. I can see what they look like. But this dread part has no visual presence. I feel him, but I can't see him. I suppose he's hiding. He's been hiding since 1965 from this alligator he shares my body with. After 60 years, he's gotten real good at hiding his face from me.

This is going to be a breakthrough; I can feel it. I'm only in the first stages of even beginning to understand this, but it feels like the most intense IFS part I've ever been able to finally identify. This is a symbiotic feeling of fear and protection. The boy who lives in terror all day long is trapped with the alligator that protects and terrifies him simultaneously.

Enough for now. Writing this out to people who will read it has opened me up to understanding it a bit better. Like it's turning on lights for the first time so I can finally see into the darkness that has been in torment for more than half a century.

Good will come from this. I'm letting this Dread part have his dread. For the first time in history, I'm not distracting or stuffing the emotions that this little IFS part represents. For the first time in his life, I'm respecting his terror. I'm feeling it with him. That's my message to this terrified prisoner within me: I feel you. I am terrified with you. You are not alone. I see you. I feel you. You are real. You deserve to feel how you feel. I respect all of it.

It seems to me that our IFS parts just want the same thing we want: To be seen, loved and respected. Period. So that's the goal of IFS Therapy: Unblend the parts, listen to them, validate them, and love them.

Good will come of this.

[Armee]

Papa C. How terrifying but also how protective to have this alligator. Like a protector of last resort perhaps? Or perhaps not. Like maybe that alligator will protect you if your secret comes out?

I love all that you've written here it really helps me. I hope you keep writing about how your relationship with this part changes over time. Because I cannot visualize I have to do IFS without any imagery of the parts. I feel them by thoughts and syntax (a 3 yr old says "please die me" and "uh oh" while a 5 yr old says "I need to die" and a 19 yr old thinks she already died). But also through body language. A three year old clasps her hands and twists her fingers, a 5 yr old collapses her body in shame...there are clues other than visual about which part is out and about. And I'm curious how you learn to recognize and work with the part that lives with the alligator because you always have such good insight, I know it will help me.

By the way, my therapist took training with Richard (can't use his usual first name as it gets *ed) Schwartz and you might not believe this but Dr. Schwartz has the same condition I do with having no ability to visualize. He also does not see his parts. IFS can work anyway. So I'm just very curious how this all plays out for you with this one unvisualized part.

I sense so much strength too here from you because it's very rare that you talk about your CSA in such straightforward ways. 

[Chart]

PapaCoco, me too, your posts are helping me. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how the impact of your experience, observations and understandings are assisting me in my own healing work. Thank you so much for writing it all out, opening yourself up and showing yourself and your experiences to others.
 

[Desert Flower]

I'm also thanking you Papa Coco for sharing. This is such tremendously courageous work you're doing here. In therapy and also on the Forum.
I also think this is ultimately the best thing you can do: share the 'secret'. Sharing that really was a life-threatening thing to do back then, that's what the part remembers. And now you know that sharing the secret will not kill you in fact. You know it, and now you are starting to feel it, experience it. And I agree, it will set you free.
I applaud everything you're doing here and I'm deeply impressed. 

[Papa Coco]

Journal entry: Sunday, February 16

It makes my heart happy to know that my journal is helpful. I try to never advise anyone--at least not very often. But I like to share what I'm experiencing, so that anyone who is wondering about IFS or MDMA or therapy, can read my own experience and decide for themselves if they resonate.

Armee, the ability to visualize is, as you say, just one way to connect with parts. I can feel them, hear them and sometimes see them. No matter how I connect, it's connection. That's awesome that your therapist learned from Dr. Schwartz about IFS parts. It's really helpful to have a qualified therapist helping teach us how to connect with our parts so as to help them.

Chart, I can say in ditto back to you. I learn from you also. I have admired your tenacious search for answers since the day you joined the forum. The saying holds true, Seek and you will find. Seeking comes first. It leads to finding.

Desert Flower, Secrets felt like my blood was poison to my organs. I lived in that poison with every breath for a very long time. As I age I just can't go back to that feeling of having poisonous, fear-filled blood coursing my veins and poisoning my organs. I can finally say that I've evolved to where I'd rather have people hate me for who I really am than love me for who I pretended to be. I embody the old quote: "And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ― Anaïs Nin.

I began opening up carefully. I was 25 years of age when I told my parents an overview of what the church had done to me when I was 7. It would take another 25 years (and their passing) before I could truly open up to the world about ALL of what they'd done to me for the next seven years--and to open up about how much damage I endured as a result. I was never able to open up totally until after they'd died, and after I'd safely gone Full No Contact with the rest of the entire family. Not out of respect for them, but out of fear of them. I had begged them for help when I was 12. They told me not to bring my little problems to them to deal with. They forced me to stay in the abuse and to not talk about it. Being good Catholics meant more to them than being good parents. I can see now why I couldn't open up until after they were gone and no longer a threat. That's when my ability to be open found enough courage to do what I didn't have the courage to do when they were still a threat. So my courage did have it's limits. It's a lot easier to be courageous when the threat is gone.

Alligators

Yesterday I used Google's new AI information bot to search on the meaning of alligators in a dream or alligators in symbology. The common belief from several sources is that alligators represent threats, danger, and repressed emotions of rage and anger.

------TRIGGER WARNING:------ Disclosure of a very personal dream from childhood that still affects me today

Before I begin, I have one of those "I've never told anyone (except my therapist) this before but..." disclosures of my own: At the age of puberty, I had a 3-second-long dream that has always been stuck in my head as if I just had it last night: I was an alligator. My mother was an alligator. My vicious narcissistic sister was an alligator. If I was 14 at the time, then the evil sibling was 25. She was 11 years older than me. We were in a swamp. I was trying to crawl out of the swamp to escape the two of them. Just as my front half was on the beach, they caught up to me and castrated me with their mighty jaws and sharp teeth. My therapist is the only person I'd ever told this to before now, and he said it makes perfect sense. My mother and sister were both man-haters and I was a kind-hearted, easy to abuse boy. Somehow at age 14 I knew they had turned me into a worthless, pathetic, castrated male that would always be there to wash their cars and do whatever servant duties males are good for. We are tools. Mom and sis made sure that I knew that boys are gross. Tools. Something to laugh at. Something to be mortally ashamed of.

---------End of Trigger Warning ------------

From there, I go to seeing alligators inside me, attacking anyone who tries to convince me that I can be proud of who I am. If alligators represent repressed anger, then I can see why it lunged at my therapist for trying to help my little Dread boy. Anyway, I have a lot of meditating, praying, reading and talking with my therapist to do before I feel like i can fully respect what this alligator is doing for me and why. Dr. Schwartz teaches that there are no bad parts. Whatever this alligator inside me is doing, he's doing it to help me. With the help of my therapist, I hope to soon discover what this alligator's full role in my life is, and why my little Dread part is still living in the terror that I had lived in during most of my childhood and young adult life.

I'm very concerned about that suffering part of me who is terrified of the alligator and spends his entire existence hiding from it. I can feel the terror. As a boy my heart hurt all the time. I had bad headaches from my blood pressure always being in terror mode. My stomach ached all the time. I lived on Pepto Bismal antacids from the age of 9 until I moved out on my own at age 19.

Here's what I found in my first preliminary Google search about the meaning of alligators in dreams:

From Google AI:

In dreams, alligators often symbolize a hidden danger, powerful and potentially overwhelming forces in your life, repressed emotions that need to be addressed, or a need to be cautious about a situation that could become dangerous if not handled carefully; essentially, a warning to confront issues head-on rather than avoiding them. [1, 2, 3, 4]

Key interpretations of dreaming about alligators: [1, 2, 4]
•    Danger and threat: The most common interpretation, where the alligator represents a potential threat or someone or something in your life that could cause harm if not carefully navigated. [1, 2, 4]
•    Repressed emotions: Seeing an alligator can signify buried anger, aggression, or other strong emotions that are surfacing and need to be acknowledged. [1, 2, 5]
•    Overwhelming situations: If the alligator is large or aggressive, it could symbolize a situation in your life that feels overwhelming or out of control. [1, 2, 3]
•    Primal instincts: As a powerful predator, the alligator can represent your own primal instincts or the need to tap into your inner strength to face challenges. [1, 2, 3]
Specific dream scenarios and their meanings: [1, 2, 3]
•    Being chased by an alligator: This indicates a feeling of being pursued by a problem or fear that you are actively trying to avoid. [1, 2, 3]
•    Being bitten by an alligator: Represents a direct confrontation with a negative force or a situation that is causing significant emotional pain. [2, 4]
•    Killing an alligator: This could signify overcoming a major obstacle or successfully confronting a difficult situation. [1, 2, 3]
•    Watching an alligator from a distance: May symbolize a subconscious awareness of a potential threat that you are currently monitoring. [2, 4]
Important factors to consider when interpreting an alligator dream: [1, 2, 4]
•    Your emotional response in the dream: How did you feel when you saw the alligator? Fear, anxiety, or curiosity can provide important clues about the meaning. [1, 2, 4]
•    The setting of the dream: Where did you encounter the alligator? A swamp or murky water could signify a confusing or uncertain situation. [3, 5]
•    The alligator's behavior: Was it aggressive, passive, or seemingly indifferent? [1, 2, 3]

Generative AI is experimental.
[1] https://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/a39739058/dreams-about-alligators-meaning/
[2] https://www.thecut.com/article/dreams-about-alligators.html
[3] https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreams/comments/1cyh1no/alligators/
[4] https://www.tribuneindia.com/2003/20031123/spectrum/dream.htm
[5] https://www.reddit.com/r/Jung/comments/15n2eoq/alligator_dream/

[Papa Coco]

Journal Entry: Tuesday, February 18

An update on the duo of IFS parts: Alligator & Dread. (Sounds like a TV show that would be seen on Nickelodeon, kids TV)

A week ago today I brought my constant state of Dread to my therapist. But while T was trying to gently coax my fearful IFS Dread part out to speak with us, I envisioned a full-sized Alligator come up out of my gut and lunge at T to make him stop. My body didn't lunge. My face and body remained in a calm, peaceful demeanor. It seems that my body was not connected to this fierce, raging alligator.  Today, 7 days later I recognize that the alligator is not part of my Complex PTSD. It's my disconnection from his rage that contributes to my Complex PTSD. It's not about the alligator; it's about the disconnection.

If the Google research is correct, and alligators symbolize repressed rage, then I can see how my body and face didn't show the alligator to T. I had to verbalize to  T what was happening inside my mind. That's disconnection. That's Complex PTSD.

One important thing I'm learning about IFS therapy is that our parts become progressively easier to access as we continue to participate in the therapy. It's literally about trust. My parts need to trust that if they come out and expose themselves to me, that I will respond favorably. Why would these parts risk exposure if I'm just going to stuff them back down and ignore them again? As I validate their existence AND their role on the team, and as I appreciate them, they become more trusting of me, and they start coming out more quickly. The therapy becomes more helpful as it continues.

I've had 7 days to live with the awareness of this Alligator's rage within me. For the first 6 days I was not sure what to do with it. But yesterday, I had a breakthrough in my own kitchen. I felt the Alligator come up and talk to me. Here's how it happened:

I was in the kitchen. I am reaching that place that Anias Nin talked about in her writing, "And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ― Anaïs Nin.  The mess in the kitchen just can't continue. It's been YEARS that I've had to cook in a disorganized, cluttered mess. And yesterday I just couldn't take it anymore.

But my Complex PTSD includes being afraid of touching anything in the house because my wife's Autistic brain doesn't respond as easily to change as my emotional brain does.

My wife is a particularly loving soul. One of the best humans I've ever met. She never raises her voice to me, nor do I raise mine to her. When she's angry, she'll make some sarcastic side comments and then disconnect from me for a while, which ignites my deep fear of being abandoned again. It triggers my childhood agony of how Mom used to instruct the entire family to ignore me until I behaved how she wanted me to.  So, I'm afraid of her, not because she's frightening, but because I just don't want to be abandoned or invalidated by the person I love the most in life. Fear is fear. Any trigger can ignite the fear. And my mother didn't allow anyone to ever touch or move or change anything. Even my own bedroom was routinely searched. Anything I had written was read, no matter how personal. Anything I tried to keep, if she didn't see a reason for me to have it, she'd throw it away while I was at school. The house was hers. Nobody else's. We were all intruders. My friends were almost never allowed in. On the rare ocassions when they were allowed in, her anxiety would soar until they left. So, I have some residual fears that have made it difficult for me to enforce my need for organization in my own home today. That's Complex PTSD in all its glory.

My wife is autistic, and able to remember where she put stuff because her memory is photographic. Mine is emotional. We think differently. She doesn't need the kitchen to be organized because she remembers where she put stuff. I want all the measuring cups to be together. I want dishes to be together. I want pots and pans to be with other pots and pans. She's okay just putting things anywhere they fit and using her photographic memory to find them again later.

Yesterday I decided to find the courage to do a very small move.  One that wouldn't ignite her anxiety much. A baby step toward a long, arduous task of organizing my own home so I can find things too. I chose a drawer in the kitchen where I've been keeping my vitamins and medications. I emptied it. I put all my own stuff in a box for a later date to find a new place for. I scoured drawers and cabinets to find as many measuring cups and measuring spoons as I could, and put them all together in one drawer. I first told her I wanted to do this, and she immediately stiffened up. I could feel her anxiety trying to stop me. TRIGGER! That's what mom used to do. I made some benign comment that I could maybe hang them on hooks inside a cabinet door. She said "No." She doesn't like things hanging on the doors. So I figured she probably won't care if I use MY drawer to put OUR measuring cups and spoons in. It took about an hour. I knew we owned too many of these things, but I had no idea we had enough to fill an entire drawer. We buy more measuring spoons when we can't find the ones we bought last month. They're cheap. It's easier to buy more than find the ones we already have. We have A LOT of them.  Another downside to being chronically disorganized.

To cut to the end of the story, as soon as I had finished the one drawer, I felt like I'd accomplished the feat of a lifetime. My alligator rose up from my chest. He was smiling with pride. He shouted, "You did it!"

I was so proud of myself. I'd used his courage to push me past the point of giving up. My personal sense of accomplishment felt like that first moment of warm sunshine after a long, ugly winter. It was an inordinate sense of incredible joy from a minor accomplishment.

In conclusion: My alligator, which was born from 64 years of repressed rage is now offering to be my courage for those times when I'm ready to blossom from the bud.

He's helping me to devise a method of doing very small things to improve our organization. Repressed anger leads to crushing depression. Emotional Impotence. Total loss of power. Rather than finding common ground and moving forward in teamwork, repressed anger separates us into villains versus victims and stops healthy progress.

I can use my alligator to help me find that moment of courage that lets me continue to get what I need without throwing up my arms, cursing my life, hiding in my room, complaining about how unfair life is.

I plan to let this ONE drawer be my only kitchen alteration for this week. As my wife settles with the new normal, I'll think of what drawer I'll organize next week. I'll do ONLY one drawer of simple things, that bring great improvement at a time. The new location for our measuring cups/spoons is perfect. The drawer is one inch below the cooking surface we use to do most of our measuring. No more reaching up to high cupboards and sifting through containers trying not to cause a waterfall of kitchen items falling on us as we search for a 1/2 cup or a 1/4 teaspoon in a cluttered mess.

Each improvement will be small, and will make life easier. I will be respecting my wife's photographic memory, while improving my ability to find things. And Alligator will provide the courage to keep going until we are both happy.

It's small steps forward like this that are pulling me slowly away from my chronic depressions and trauma responses. Alligator turns out to be my friend. Dr. Schwartz is right; There are no bad parts.

[Desert Flower]

Dear Papa Coco, how wonderful and empowering this alligator turns out to be! And what a thrill to read your post. Thank you for sharing.

[NarcKiddo]

I had to laugh at your Nickelodeon comment. Very glad that your sense of humour is shining through even as you tackle these very important and sometimes scary revelations.

I hope that once you start being able to reliably harness Alligator's qualities for good, Dread will feel calmer about having to share space with Alligator. And I think you are very wise, loving and considerate to be doing this slowly, so your wife can deal with the changes. How very unlike your FOO.

 

[Papa Coco]

Desert Flower, I'm happy that my post was a positive thrill for you to read. When anyone resonates with another, that's about feeling connection. I believe in my heart of hearts, that a feeling of not being connected to the people of this world is at the root of my Complex-PTSD, and that the only thing most of us truly want is to feel like we're not alone in our inner world or our outer world. You enjoying my post makes me feel connected with you, and not so alone.

NarcKiddo, you are right about this: My wife is very happy with the progress I'm making on the house. After posting yesterday about the drawer, she went off to work and I did sneak into a messy spare room where we keep our emergency supplies (in case of another COVID, or earthquake, or catastrophic event), and put in some shelves. I then cleaned up the pile and organized it onto the new shelves. My emotions were all over the map. Anger. Fear. Nervous about her reactions. I kept watching the clock to be sure I was done before she came home. To my relief, she came from home from work last night, saw it and said, "It looks GREAT!"

What the heck was I so worried about? That's a trick question with an obvious answer: Complex PTSD fits very well with that old sayings, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" and, "I saw my enemy and it was me."

So far so good. Alligator is gently nudging me with moments of courage as I decide whether to take each next step and it's paying off. She's happier. I'm happier. Each small win is another step forward on my journey of a thousand steps to feeling inner peace.

IFS therapy is the best thing I've come across yet. Added to my MDMA experience and my Ketamine infusions (which simply open up the mind to help with changing neuroplasticity), IFS therapy is moving me up and out of the fear of my own fear.

It's a good day on my journey from there to where I want to be. I want to live my life feeling empowered to live in kindness for others as well as for myself. IFS therapy is all about not trying to eat the entire meal in one bite, but about learning to love myself one small part at a time. It's working!!!!! Momentum is beginning to build.

[Chart]

Very cool and very relevant to all sorts of elements and aspects of my own life. Thank you PapaCoco for sharing. It really helps.
 

[Papa Coco]

Journal Entry for Saturday, February 22

I've gone through a lot these past few days. On Wednesday, my Daughter-in-Law, (DIL) called Coco and me to let us know that our son, S2, her husband, was off his meds and having a radical Mixed Episode of his Bipolar Disorder. We love DIL as much as we love our son. They have two children. Over the course of the past few weeks, S2's Bipolar episode had been building. In the world of BPD, there exist three types of episodes: Manic, Depressive and Mixed. Mixed is the most dangerous, as a person is manic and depressed simultaneously, and extremely prone to impulses. He drives a truck for work in heavy traffic. How easy to have a sudden impulse to jerk the wheel into a tree or another car?

After having lost S1, his older brother, to Schizophrenia, Coco and I just spent all day Thursday feeling completely lost. Both boys refuse medications. That's why S1 has gone no contact with us. THe voices in his head told him that we are dangerous and stupid. So he had to cut us out of his life. Anyone I know who has lost a child to Schizophrenia has experienced the phenomenon that the person with the disease became first afraid of the person who loved them most. That was us.

BPD progresses with age and progresses much faster when unmedicated. A psychiatrist and  medication are currently the only known way that we've learned how to help people with both mental disorders; Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder (BPD).

On Friday morning, I tried to tell some friends of mine the story, but I couldn't stop crying as I tried to tell how terrified I am that I will lose S2 as I'd lost S1, and after having seen how much pain S1 caused Coco, I found myself just sure that I'd lose her immediately after losing S2.

My friends kept a level head with me and told me to be careful not to let the pain from my past become the fear of my future. One particularly sensitive man gave me saying to lighten my mood and hopefully calm my fears. He said, "All the trouble I ever had, I never had. I borrowed it from the future." God bless this friend. He really cheered me up. Pretty soon I was laughing again at myself and not crying over fears of what MIGHT happen.

After the call I felt a bit better. But before I could process it, my DIL called me in hysterics. What Coco and I didn't know was that right after she'd called us on Wednesday night (in tears, crying over the condition of her husband), she got another call from her grandmother...the woman who'd raised her. DIL's grandfather, Bruce had been found unconscious and was now pronounced brain-dead. DIL's Grandmother begged her to come to the hospital and sit with her, because she and Grandfather had been true lovers, and she couldn't bear to sit alone with him. We didn't know this. We were curious as to why we hadn't heard anything on Thursday. DIL wasn't responding to texts. S2 wasn't either.

Then, at around noon on Friday I got a call from DIL. She explained where she'd been and how exhausted she was. I asked which hospital she was in and if she wanted me to come sit with her. She was okay she said. But a half hour later, the phone rang again. 12:30 PM Friday. DIL was in hysterics. I could hear alarms and people rushing around in the background. Today she says she remembers calling someone but can't remember who. I told her it was me. The call was because her grandmother had collapsed, and "coded." Then, about a dozen hospital staff rushed in and were in the process of putting her on a gurney to take her across the complex to the Emergency Room. That's the commotion I could hear in the background.

It took some work to get DIL to be able to tell me which hospital she was at. Poor kid was in hysterics. 36 hours without sleep or food after what she'd gone through with her husband's disease, and she was barely coherent enough to even know which hospital she was in. She finally was able to text me the hospital once she'd gatherer her wits. Meanwhile I called Coco home from work and we rushed off to the Hospital where this was all happening.

We knew the hospital well. Over the years we've lost a lot of friends and family, and often in that very building. BUT we found ourselves oddly lost as to how to find the West Parking Garage where we were to meet DIL upon arrival. It was some sort of auspicious event that we'd gotten lost, because it added 10 minutes to the time DIL could be in the room with her grandfather. As we finally found parking, and I was getting out of the car, Coco got a call from DIL. Her grandfather had just passed, and in a very beautiful and touching way. Apparently, the doctors came in to tell DIL and her aunts that Grandma was going to be okay. That she was stable and going in for tests. The very moment the doctors reported that she was okay, Grandpa woke up from his coma, opened his eyes. Closed his eyes and stopped breathing. No violent movements or shaking or death rattle. He just quietly went on when he knew his beloved was okay. And he actually passed with DIL and his daughter holding his hands.

If we had not gotten lost for 10 minutes, DIL would have been in the parking garage with us when he passed.

S2 wanted to be there, but has a job driving trucks and was far away, and unable to get there. He's thanked us many times for being there for her. We even drove her home in her own car because of heavy traffic, driving rain, and her being in an unsuitable condition to be driving.

Today, my Son, S2 is in very stable condition himself. He is his normal loving beautiful self. When S2 is not having BPD episodes, he's an extremely endearing and loving man. He's somehow settled back down to that condition again. I will have a long lunch with him tomorrow where I hope to help convince him that while he's not in his raging BPD episodes that he truly take seriously the need for medication and psychiatric maintenance.

Today, He called me. "Dad, I have a strange request for you." I said, "Go for it." He said, DIL's grandmother is asking me to ask you to officiate Bruce's funeral.

I felt so honored. I haven't seen these people in three years. I usually see them at birthday parties, and I did officiate DIL and S2's wedding. Grandmother said that Bruce really liked me and she did too. And they are not religious but they want my calm demeanor to lead their not-so-calm family through the grieving at the funeral. I couldn't say no.

Like most families, hers is fraught wtih the usual divisiveness, blame, narcissism, etc. Grandma is hoping I can smooth all that out while they are all together in one place.

I need to connect with my friends who yesterday told me to not let the past set me up to believe the future is just another disaster. I need to tell them that they were 100% right.

My son is committed to his family, and I believe I can help him get his health back into balance by convincing him to get reconnected with a psychiatrist and the right medication.

Coco and I are feeling much better today than we had in past days..

ON A VERY FUN NOTE: While the drama was still in play, and I was sitting with Coco in the Emergency Room while DIL and her aunts were telling Grandma that Bruce had died in her absence, I was thinking about the courage it takes to stay involved during triggering crisis's. The Emergency Room Lobby's TV was on. Sound was off, but Closed Caption was on. You'll NEVER guess what show was just starting. It was a children's learning show and the topic of the day was ALLIGATORS. I chuckled quietly under my breath and sent a thank you to the forces above us for showing me that I am not alone. My alligator soul was being acknowledged. But wait....EVEN FUNNIER, I stopped watching the TV as the less savory relatives started flowing in from the parking lot to pass by us as they headed back to see DIL and grandma, and I thought about how much courage it takes for all of us to deal with these warring family members. I looked back up at the TV just as the Closed Caption said, "Uh oh, looks like Jimmy is in trouble."  I Laughed out loud. My real name is Jimmy. (I'm laughing out loud just writing about it).

Anyway, I'm feeling settled and balanced today. I have friends to thank for helping me see that things weren't as bad as I was expecting.

I've been honored by being asked to lead the funeral, and I'm just like...full of warmth right now. Even in tradgedy I see love swelling up out of anger and dissention. A family is coming together to honor a very sweet and special man. I didn't know Bruce that well, but I always liked him. He was kind and just enjoyed his family. He and Grandmother had a very touching and loving friendship right to the end. He even made sure she was okay before he passed on.

MY Complex PTSD isn't being triggered. I feel like I'm helping, so I don't feel so alone as I usually do in crisis.  In the wake of a tragic situation, I feel like Love is there for anyone who wants it for their healing. I'm honored to be a part of it. My own family pushed me away as my parents were dying. Other people's families ask me to please come in and be a part of their events.

[Chart]

Wow... amazing, beautiful reality. I'm deeply affected. And written brilliantly (it's not easy keeping all the family characters straight, but you didn't lose me at all during the dialogue... absolutely brilliant...)

PC, your experience with your sons (and family) touches me deeply. Sometimes I forget that I am not the only human struggling with difficult connection in my family. It helps immensely to know that these struggles are "common" amongst us and that this struggle of mine is not a single reality belonging exclusively to me. I'm stuck at the moment in bed wondering how to get beyond this current ef. Your story lifted me out, if only for a moment, and I lived and felt with you 100% your experience. Thank you so much. I too am suffering through fear of the future and the different perspective you shared rings in my heart like Sunday bells.
 

[Papa Coco]

Chart,

I truly believe we are all in this together. I sometimes ask myself if it's a good or bad thing that I share my experiences with such detail to the entire world through my novels and this forum.

Feeling alone is what damaged me. My Complex PTSD is deeply rooted in feeling like the world was made up of two teams: Me on one team, and the entire population of earth on the other. I felt unwanted, disrespected, unworthy of love, and even that God himself hated me. That's the root of my pain.

To overshare is an impulse I can't hold back. I spent too many years hiding my life from the world. I can't bear keeping it all inside anymore. And when I am told that my sharing helped another soul, well that just proves to me, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am not alone. I can connect with others. And the connection itself is what matters.

We don't have to give each other advice if we don't feel like we can or should. Just acknowledging and validating each other is where the true healing happens in my own journey. I call my healing The Journey of a Thousand Steps. Each step matters as much as the other 999. And each relationship builds on the learning.

Even in a catastrophic event, having someone to share it with gives us the strength to grow and endure.

Chart, I hope you are able to get up out of bed today. A lot of people read your posts, and mine too. Most of them don't respond, and that's okay. I read a lot of posts that I also don't respond to, but I still learn from them. I learn from the people on this forum, and I try to give back with what I've learned. I think most of us do that.

Just know that you are influencing healing in your peers as you share it with us. And so am I. The fact that we don't know who is being affected, doesn't change the fact that others are affected by what we each do, whether we do good or not good. The butterfly affect is in play within us all. When pain or healing touches one of us, a ripple runs through all of us. You pull an apple off a tree, and other apples fall from the other side because the entire tree shook.

I can say that my daughter-in-law's grandmothers request that I officiate Bruce's funeral surprised me and made me realize that I never realized how much I meant to these people. It is also a learning lesson for me to be at my best anytime I'm interacting with anyone, because none of us truly know who we are influencing in either good or not so good ways. To each of us, our actions are watched by others. We don't always realize that we teach when we're just being who we are.

This forum, to me, is more of a team than a grouping. We help each other by sharing. We leverage eachothers' strengths for the good of all of us. WE are all focused on similar goals. We want to feel connected. We want to feel validated. We want to feel like we're not the only person on our team.  And by sharing, we are all helping each other.

I'm pulling for you!

[NarcKiddo]

I'm sorry for the loss of Bruce. I know you will make a wonderful job of officiating his funeral.

Clearly things have been difficult and will probably continue to be in some respects over the immediate times to come. But I am happy you are finding the good in all of this, and especially happy that S2 has pulled out of his episode. I'm glad you discovered your alligator and are helping him to be a good team player.

 

[Desert Flower]

Thank you again for sharing Papa Coco and I'm honored to be a part of your experiences this way. It certainly is a lot you've been going through. I'm very glad S2 seems to have pulled through this episode.
I also feel that to connect with others, in the 'real world' as well as on this Forum, is one of the biggest things in order for us to heal, I have an ampersand tattoo to express that. You will be wonderful officiating the funeral. Take lots of  care.