Tag Archives: therapy

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE

Posted on by
2

Before I get to my journal entries, I wanted to tell you that I have been pushing the envelope of darkness, so to speak.  I am still (mostly) afraid of the dark, and going out into it to walk, unless I am walking with someone, is not possible.  Or is it?  Lately, as it gets lighter earlier, I have been going out before it is actually light.  Okay, only by a couple of minutes and only because I know the sun is coming up and it will only get lighter and lighter.  And when I walked at 4:30a the other day with my friend Mike, I was able to meet him part way down my block.  Of course, I watch out the window and can see him turn up my street.  Still, it feels like progress.  I also remind myself of my friend Erin, who was raped 30 years ago in an attack that was similar to mine, in that she passed him, spoke to him and then he grabbed her from behind, and she walks in the dark, sometimes alone, almost every day.  And then there are the odds.  I mean, really, what are the odds of it happening again?  As they say, lightening doesn’t (usually) strike twice in the same place.  I am still very cautious, though.  I expect that at some point I may be able to walk in the dark again.  But maybe not.  And maybe I’ll just continue to push it a little more each day, but never too much.

 

Back to the past and my journal entries:

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Feeling rather crappy today and I’m not sure why.  There is no rhyme or reason to the ups and downs of my emotions.  I walked 6 miles and still feel bad.  I feel okay as I am actually walking and then when I stop, all the crap comes back full-force.  I just want the pain and awful feelings to stop.  Why are they being so difficult to release?

10:25a  Had my shower and cried the entire time.  I can’t believe how bad I am feeling.  I’m back in bed, hoping I can sleep and wake up feeling better.  The thoughts that keep running through my mind are disturbing, to say the least.  It’s like I am in a battle with a part of myself that is determined to make me give into it.  I feel like I cannot not tell anyone this, even Susie, but Monday when I was coming home from therapy, feeling really, really, really low, as I was coming across the bridge, I actually considered stopping, hell, I almost stopped and, well, at the very least would have caused the bridge to be shutdown.  As it turned out, Mike was 2 cars behind me, which I didn’t know until he came up right behind me at the light at Orange.  As far as I can remember, I’ve never come so close to doing something that I don’t think I really want to do.  I continue to fight that annoying part of me that just wants to leave, to check out.  I am trying so very hard not to give in.

11:20a And now I just feel like I’ve been beat.  The feeling of complete hopelessness goes away to be replaced by a feeling of overwhelming exhaustion.   All I can do is sleep.

 

Monday, 23 April 2012

“8:15a  It’s another marine-layery day.  How delightful.  Oh ,that’s right, not so much.  Like I need depressing weather when I am already in a depressed state of mind.

And the big question is – Am I being completely honest with Susie about how I am really feeling?  Not all of the time, but more than I think I should be.”                                               [ Note- I’m not sure what I was thinking when I wrote this.  And I wrote this prior to seeing Susie on this day.  At this point I had not told her what happened on the bridge.  I had not told anyone, including Bill.  And as a matter of fact, I did not tell him until some weeks later.  I was always afraid that if I was completely honest with Susie, she would have me committed to a mental hospital.  I did not write that afternoon when I got home from therapy.]

 

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

“5:30a  Had another very fast walk with Mike.  13 1/2 minute miles, which is pretty dang quick.  I’m planning on the 7:30a yoga class, so I am resting until it’s time to leave.

I am very hopeful that, once all of the stuff (SAMe, St. John’s Wort, and whatever that other pill I’ve been taking) is out of my system, Wellbutrin won’t be necessary.  I guess it’s a good thing that I told Susie what’s really going on with me since, it appears, the pills I was taking, at least the St. John’s Wort, was making me worse instead of better.  I just want to not feel like I do”.

 

So, the St. John’s Wort was making me suicidal.  I should clarify that.  It was making me even more suicidal.  Although I am not bipolar as my brother and my uncle are, it turns out I am in the bipolar spectrum and what that means is, just as there are certain drugs and/or supplements a person with bipolar disorder should never be given, someone who is in the bipolar spectrum has to be treated in the same way.   Had I not told my therapist what happened, there is no telling what I might have done.  As I said, I do not remember ever coming so close to doing something about my desire to leave this world.  It’s not like I ever had a plan or have ever thought much past the idea of not being here anymore.  This incident really scared me, and even though I did not tell Susie right away, I did tell her the next week.  She immediately knew it was what I was taking; something that was supposed to make me feel better, was making me so much worse.  I couldn’t just stop taking it, either.  I had to taper off of it.  Eventually, all of what I was taking got out of my system.  At that point, I was afraid to take anything.  My body has such weird reactions to medications and after this horrible episode, I didn’t trust anything.  In the end, I decided to go without any kind of medication.  Should I have tried a ‘real’ antidepressant?  Maybe, but I chose not to.  As I said in an earlier post, I thought that  I was not clinically depressed, but situationally depressed.  It was what I was going through and I felt like once I got through the therapy, I would be okay.  I was, however, open to it if Susie really thought I needed it.  I was lucky that I was being monitored and that I was finally honest with Susie.

IT GOT WORSE

Posted on by
1

I think I’ve been putting off doing a new post because, first of all, I was getting ‘worse’ rather than better and, secondly, I wasn’t writing as much and there are far less journal entries.  The ones that are available are kind of hard to read, at least for me.   And I am now coming from a place of being completely healed from the attack.  At the time, though, I was so engrossed in my therapy that writing about it was the last thing I was capable of doing.  Of course, that was the very thing that would have been helpful, but as I’ve said many times already, my brain was not functioning properly.  I was doing the best I could from where I was.  So, several more entries…

 

1 February 2012

My neck pain is back with a vengeance.  After I came out of shock, the pain seemed to lessen.  At least  I could move my head again.  Now, though, it hurts as much as ever.  And yesterday I got a horrible headache, which still hurts this morning.  I thought it better not to go to the gym.

 

9 March 2012

I can feel myself slipping further and further over the edge.  It’s a terrible feeling and I’m not sure I can stop it.  I so want to isolate myself from EVERYONE, even, and especially, Bill.  Tomorrow is one year from the day we first met; not the date, which is the 12th, but the actual day.  We are going to Jimmy Buffett, which should make me happy.  I am hopeful that this weekend will not be a repeat of last weekend when I just felt bla.  I started taking 2 SAMe today because I still do not want to take a ‘real’ antidepressant.  Perhaps the higher dose will help.

Mother told me yesterday as we were hanging up that she loves me.  This seems to be what set me off this time.  I just want to feel whole and loved and that I matter and the simple truth is I just don’t.

 

15 March 2012

Once again court has been continued.  Cockroach’s bitch of an attorney still has not gotten his psyche evaluation done.  I wasn’t holding my breath that we’d actually be going to court on the 27th but I was hopeful.  Hopes dashed yet again.

 

20 March 2012

Kind of ironic — I feel better about what I went through in my past, the past I’ve been stuck in for the last couple of months in my therapy, and still, I’m not ‘me.’  I can’t seem to do what I’m supposed to do.  I finally got my new computer (have been without for over 6 weeks) and I still haven’t cleared off my desk so that I can set it up.  I feel stuck in some other pattern or something.  I want to work and I don’t, can’t.  I want to sew.  I want to be working on my new website/project.  I want to be working on my new yoga bags (and eventually, I’m sure, a yoga clothing line).  I want, I want, I want, and what do I do?  Nothing, nothing, nothing, and then some more nothing.  I seem to have lost my drive and determination.  I also ‘lost’ my stomach ache that I had for over a week.  It was caused from my therapy and the events of my childhood that I was revisiting.

What I did today: yoga class, walked with Laura, went to Pacific Beach to get frozen yogurt, then to AmVets on the way home.  Every day I wake up and think, “This’ll be the day,”  that I’ll finally be back on track.  So far, though, it hasn’t happened.  Oh, and today should have been the readiness/fitness hearing for cockroach boy.  Instead, Mary Loeb emailed me the new dates which are 24 May, fitness hearing and, assuming we move forward at that time, 31 May for the prelim.  I made sure the new dates would be when Bill was not in Mexico.

 

21 March 2012

I had a very nice marriage proposal this morning on my second walk.  It’s too bad I’m not into older men, and by older I mean 93 years old!  Still it was nice.

I don’t understand why I can feel almost good one minute and the next feel all the despair I’ve been working so hard to get rid of.  I suppose it’s the depression talking.  I so want to be motivated and the best I can seem to do is get back in bed.

 

22 March 2012

I realize that what I am is not clinically depressed, but situationally depressed.  Whatever you call it, it feels crappy.

 

As you can clearly see, I was more depressed than I realized and I was fighting to not go on an antidepressant.  I took Wellbutrin back in the mid-90s and, though it did what it was supposed to do, it was a horrible experience and I was trying to not repeat it.  At the time, too, although I was depressed and  knew I was depressed, I didn’t think I was really depressed.  Funny how the mind works.  I should also mention that since I am taking these entries directly from my journal and it is my journal, I don’t have to explain things because I know what they mean or who I may be referring to.  For the purpose of this website right now, my only intention is to get my story told.  After that is finished, I will be filling in the blanks and there are a lot of those to be filled.  If I filled them in as I went, this would take a few years to get through.

Another thing I realize that I never wrote about in my journal was back at the end of January or very beginning of February 2012 I decided to compete in a half-marathon.  Because I was, at the time, still having so much trouble forcing myself to walk, I knew that I had to train for something so that I would have to get out there.  I chose the Safari Park Half-Marathon because it benefited the tigers.  The date of the race was 6 May 2012.   So during all this not-being-able-to-do-much-of-anything-period, I was also meant to be training for a 13.1 mile race.  It’s funny (to me) that I never wrote about it, but that’s just another example of how my brain wasn’t working normally.

 

 

ANOTHER PART OF THE (VERY LONG) PROCESS

Posted on by
2

After coming out of shock, the fun was just beginning.  Believe me, I use the term ‘fun’ very sarcastically here.  As you will read in the next several entries from my journal, my initial conversation with the D.A. that precipitated my coming out of shock only served to confuse me further when I met with her the day before a scheduled hearing to see what was what and where everything stood at that point.  Really, I was a complete mess at this point in the process.

 

17 January 2012

I may have moved from shock to anger, but now I’m feeling a lot more depressed.  I am meeting with the D.A. today.  She needs to know who I am and that I am expecting her to do her absolute best to make sure cockroach boy pays for his crimes.  Oh, I definitely have mixed feelings about it all.  On the one hand, he violently attacked me and I KNOW he’ll do it again if he is not in jail.  I also know that in jail/prison he will just learn to be a better criminal and may do even worse things when he gets out.  So what’s the answer?  That I do NOT know.  And it turns out that cockroach boy apparently has bipolar disorder and Asperger’s Syndrome.  Oh well, doesn’t excuse his actions one little bit.

 

18 January 2012

Off to the fitness hearing.  Oh, joy.

 

20 January 2012

And more joy — the trial/case/whatever you want to call it is postponed/continued for another 8-10 weeks.  I don’t know the exact dates yet since the D.A. didn’t bother to call and let me know.

 

21 January 2012

6AM  Feeling very overwhelmed and depressed, like something very heavy is sitting on me. Mother’s suggestion – just don’t feel it.  Ah, okay.  If only it were that easy.  I’m feeling like I did when I was still in shock and had no control over what my body was doing.  All I could do was go along for the ride.  This is so much like when I came back from Spain and no one knew the true extent (hell, they didn’t have a clue) of how I was feeling.  No way am I telling Bill.  I feel like I have to ‘put on my happy face’ around him.  It’s not that he wouldn’t be supportive, but I’m not sure he’d understand, not really.  No one can.  I feel all alone.

 

23 January 2012

I actually feel like I am not going to make it, like this is all too much, that the ‘injury’ my brain has suffered is just one thing too many in a life full of one thing after the other, that it truly won’t get better in time, that all the EMDR is doing is stirring up all the old crap and nothing good will ever come from that.

We didn’t even get to the EMDR today.  Suzie gave me the brain assessment test again.  Turns out I’m depressed and I have excessive anxiety and I’m a little something else, which I forget.  Probably has something to do with memory.  I even saved getting my Sprinkles cupcake until this morning when I was leaving La Jolla to go to therapy.  Of course, I couldn’t eat it when I got it because I had an empty stomach and a cupcake on an empty stomach isn’t such a good idea.  So I waited until I got home and ate lunch.  Then I finally ate it.  It didn’t taste so good to me.  Maybe I’ve reached my cupcake limit.

I can feel my heart beating ad I can tell my breathing is not right.  Also, I think Emily is pretty close to dying.  I held her when I got home.  She did purr for me but she won’t eat.  I told her it’s okay if she leaves.  I also asked God to let her go to sleep and not wake up.  It’s not that I want her to die, it’s just that I cannot take her to the vet and have her put to sleep.  I don’t think she would want that.  I just need for her not to wake up.  I can just add that to my PTSD list.  Her death, I mean.

 

24 January 2012

6:30AM  I can feel myself sinking further and further into the hole.  It’s just like when I was feeling that my brain wasn’t working properly and there was nothing I could do about it.  It’s a terrible feeling.

 

25 January 2012

I knew Emily would not be alive this morning.

 

27 January 2012

Still keep looking out the window to see Emily in her chair and when I slept until 7:30 this morning, I thought, gotta get up to feed Emily.  Can’t believe she’s really gone.

 

28 January 2012

It is so weird to NOT have to get up to feed Emily.  She is my first thought each morning.

Today is my 5th day of taking SAMe.  Do I feel better?  No idea.  It’s probably too soon to have kicked in, anyway.  It is sunny today, which does help, and it’s supposed to be 80 degrees.  That really helps.

 

So as you can see, I had a lot going on.  Dealing with my 20-year-old cat dying was just another added thing I clearly did not need.  And even though it has been a year now since she died, every time I come through my back gate, I turn to look at her chair, expecting, I guess, to see her waiting there.  I did bury her in my backyard, so I can ‘visit’ her whenever I feel like it.  It’s not the same as having her here.  Not even close.

Another strange thing is happening to me.  The other day I was talking with a friend I had not seen in something like 7 or 8 months and she was asking about the sentencing and all that had transpired since we last sat down and really talked.  I had trouble remembering the details, which, of course, at the time I thought I’d never forget.  I said to her that I hoped I had written about that experience.  Turns out I didn’t.  It is funny how our minds work, whether it is to protect us or to keep us safe in some way.  That’s why I think the retelling of what happened to me and how I felt at the time is so important.  What is also nice to know, is that I was able to completely heal from this.  I think I may have mentioned before that when I read or tell my story now, it seems like I am talking about someone else.  I feel a sense of sadness and empathy, but it doesn’t feel like it’s me.  I guess that’s good.  And my EMDR really worked the way it is meant to work.  (Thanks, Susie!)

20 NOVEMBER, 10 DECEMBER 2011

Posted on by
1

It was brought to my attention that my posts are unclear, so before I get to my journal entries, I just want to make clear exactly what it is I am posting.  When the title of my post is a date from 2011 (and 2012 after this post), that means it is an entry from my journal, from that time, of what I was feeling, going through and dealing with.  I also want to be clear that I am through my therapy and my PTSD is completely gone.  I am no longer depressed (or at least not to the extent I was immediately following the attack and for most of the healing process) and am not in any danger of ‘checking out’ early from this life of mine.  I am attempting to tell my story chronologically so that anyone following it can understand what I was thinking and feeling then.  My feelings now are different and once the entire story is written, I will be getting into my the continued process and journey.  I realize that some of what I write is hard to read, and it does get far worse before it gets better.  The whole reason for doing this, though, is to hopefully help others who are in a similar situation and feeling as if they are going stark-raving mad.  That certainly is how I felt a lot of the time.

Just a couple of short entries today…

20 November 2011

My horoscope today is worthy of recording in here:  ‘A rush of optimism and enthusiasm could propel you into a more positive frame of mind, and you could accomplish wonders.  Your circumstances may be turned upside down [understatement of the year, my words.] A move is possible, as is a change in your work.  Don’t cling to the shore – flow with the current.  Success and good fortune are on the way as long as you let them happen.’  Oh, yes, I like the sound of this.  It’s kind of what I’ve been thinking and feeling for a while now. Just need to allow it in.

10 December 2011

Last night Bill asked me if I was planning on walking this morning.  I told him I didn’t know, that I’d see if I could.  He then pointed out the probable reason that I seem to have so much trouble walking on Saturday mornings now: the attack happened on a Saturday morning.  Oh my gosh, how did I not realize this before?  That makes so much sense.

Well, we officially start the EMDR on Monday.  Another day that is very difficult for me.

14 NOVEMBER, 19 NOVEMBER 2011

Posted on by
Reply

14 November

Therapy was tough today.  I almost cried.  The tears just wouldn’t come out.  It was when I was talking about Andy.  Also, Susie said she thinks my talking is my tears.  For now.  That’s probably why I am talking so much about the attack.  To everyone I see.

I think that when I was growing up, I never felt that I mattered, that I was not important.  I think I still feel that way a lot of the time.  I mean, and I know I’ve said this before at various other times in my life, I’m 51 years old and I have nothing to show for it  —  no husband, no kids, no house, no money.  Oh sure, I have a talent for making beautiful things, and a portfolio full of pictures of those beautiful things, but what does that really mean?  I think I’m trying to make myself feel relevant.  I know there are quite a lot of people who would miss me if I were gone, but what does it take for me to feel that I matter while I’m here?  I think writing my autobiography is a step in the right direction.  Also, writing about what I’m going through now.  I cannot be the only one who is experiencing it, though why no one else has come forward or no one I know has ever been attacked, I can’t figure out.  No one talks about it.  And I can’t seem to shut up.  And then there’s the annoying little voice that keeps saying, ‘Why do you think what you have to say is important?’ and ‘Why do you think anyone will even be interested or listen or care?’ and ‘Maybe I am the only one who this matters to.’  

And seriously, what’s the worst thing that can happen to me for writing it all down on my blog?  No one reads it?  I only help myself get through it?  Well, so what?  The whole point is to get me through it and if I happen to help someone else along the way, great.  If not, well, I will have still helped me.  It’s not like anyone is really reading my blog these days anyway.  I do need to figure out a way to increase my readership AND have people leave comments.  I want, no, I NEED to know that I’m not just wasting my time.  (Note- The blog I am referring to here is http://www.alittleofthisthatandtheother.blogspot.com and even before the attack I was having a bit of trouble posting on a regular basis.  After, I tried to go on as if nothing had happened, occasionally making a veiled reference to something, but never coming totally clean.  After I launched this site, I foolishly thought I could do posts on both.  That has not happened.)

19 November 2011

Slowly, but ever so slowly, I am realizing I have a very deep sense that I simply do not matter.  I, of course, l know this is ridiculous, and yet, the feeling is still there.  This was pointed out to me last Monday in therapy.  When I was talking about how mean my brothers were and how I got no relief from Mother until I took the drastic measure of running away from home, Susie asked me if I felt that I didn’t matter?  I said, yes, and I’ve thought about it a lot this past week.  I’m not sure why I feel this way.  Oh, I can understand why I would have felt it before, but not after Hoffman and all the subsequent work I’ve done to deal with my past.  Apparently, though, it is still there.  Rats!

The Hoffman gathering today was pretty powerful for me.  The topic was Gratitude.  My first thought was, ‘of course I am grateful for everything.’  And then I thought more about that and realized it was the perfect topic for me because, although I am definitely grateful for a lot of things, I am not nearly in the frame of mind I was pre-attack.  I can’t even thank God for my island anymore.  That has got to shift for me.  I am working on it, but maybe I really do need to ‘fake it ’til I feel it again.’  Kind of like the releasing resentment prayer that Mike sent me.  I’ve been doing it and I’m pretty sure I’ve done it for more than 14 consecutive days and I’ve yet to feel any less mad or resentful towards cockroach boy.   Still, I’ll keep doing it.  It certainly cannot hurt anything and may be helping me in ways I am not even aware of.  (Another note – the releasing resentment prayer I mentioned here is an amalgamation from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and says the following: “God, please help me show ____ the same tolerance, compassion and patience that I would cheerfully grant a sick friend.  This is a sick person God.  Save me from being angry and resentful.  Thy will be done.  I ask for everything that I want for myself to be given to him.  I ask for his health, his prosperity and his happiness.”   Say it for 14 consecutive days and see if it doesn’t help you release your resentment.  Remember that this is for your peace of mind and serenity, not his.)

SLOWLY, BUT SLOWLY, BUT SURELY

Posted on by
1

I thought I’d give a quick update on the state of my back. I am now going on my fifth day of being stuck in bed. The good news is I got up yesterday for the first time in 96 hours. My boyfriend brought me lunch and my favorite cupcake (salted caramel from Sprinkles) and then helped me out of bed. My back is still really sore, as much, I think, from lying on it as from the spasms. It does seem to be out of danger of spasming now, though I will be extra careful in moving for the foreseeable future. If I NEVER have this happen again, it will be too soon.

Back to yesterday’s adventure – Bill helped me to a sitting position at the edge of my bed. (And thank goodness my bed is higher than average and at the perfect height to get in and out of without having to lower myself down or raise myself up in any way). So I sat there for a few moments, trying to get my bearings and letting the dizziness pass. I finally stood and we made our way, slowly, to the bathroom. I was SO looking forward to using the toilet, as opposed to peeing in bed, which as I said before, is just so strange. After finishing, I (foolishly) thought I should do a lap around the house. Again, I (we) were moving extremely slowly. As we got back to the kitchen, I remembered that I had forgotten to brush my teeth, so headed back to the bathroom. You have got to understand that the lap might have been 25′ and from the where I was standing at the edge of the kitchen to the bathroom is, maybe 5′. I’m not talking any great distance. BUT having been prone for 4 days, it proved to be too much exercise at one time. I nearly passed out brushing my teeth and had to sit down on the toilet to finish. Of course, we still had to get me the seemingly insurmountable 30′ back into my bed. I was definitely light-headed and though not exactly seeing stars, I was in real danger of passing out. When I was again lying down, I couldn’t hear anything. It felt as if I was under water. I think I came as close to passing out as you can without actually passing out. It took several minutes for me to feel normal again. I definitely over did it. Bad Tamerie!

I did it, though! And before the night was over, I got up 3 more times. Once when Laura was here to bring me dinner, and twice all by myself. Those times, though, I went straight to the bathroom and straight back to bed. No extra laps for me until I am feeling a bit stronger.

And the best news is I slept through the night. I’ve been up once so far this morning and am thinking I’ll get up every hour or so, just to get used to it.

Last time I went through this, I discovered the Alexander Technique (www.alexandertechnique.com) and locally went to Eileen Troberman (www.alexandertechniquesandiego.com) for help and relief. I am thinking I may need to visit her again.

Thank you for all the emails and well wishes I have received. As my therapist said when I told her of my predicament, “I know you will overcome all of this!” And my response was, “This, although incredibly painful, is NOTHING compared to the last 13 months! And this will be better in the next few days.”
Okay, maybe it will take more than just a few days, but I can deal with that.

48 HOURS AND COUNTING

Posted on by
4

A quick disclaimer–please excuse any typos or misspelled words in this post. I am doing this on my iPhone and flat on my back in bed. That being said, on with it…

Saturday morning, instead of our usual hour and a half yoga class (since my boyfriend was away at a weekend retreat with the organization he volunteers for, I thought I would walk in Coronado. And for this walk I wanted to do the route that was interrupted by cockroach boy on the 24th of September last year. I had not walked that way around the island since the attack, though I had revisited the scene of the crime almost 2 weeks before. I enlisted a good friend of mine and he was at my door at 6a. All went well. I had no physical symptoms come up. He asked, and I showed him, exactly where it had happened. No big deal, right? Anyway, we continued on and made our way back to the other side of the island. I went home, showered, ate and started working. Everything seemed perfectly fine. As I was sitting at my sewing machine, though, I felt a little twinge in my back and thought, ‘that’s odd.’ So I got up and went in the living room to lie on the floor to stretch it out. It felt okay, so I went back to the sewing machine. After a minute, I felt it again. This time, though, when I tried to stand up, I couldn’t. My chair is on wheels, so I rolled myself into my bedroom and used the frame of my bed and the window sill to push myself up to standing. I then laid on the bed and stretched my back some more, while I googled back spasms. Everything I read said ice it for 24-48 hours. Okay, I thought, and got up and went to get my lima beans (I HATE beans, so there’s no chance of accidentally eating them) and proceeded to ice my lower back for 20 minutes. I had draped my torso over the edge of the bed, with my legs bracing myself on the wall. When I tried to get up, I couldn’t. Basically I was stuck.

My phone was in the middle of the bed and as I attempted to reach for it, I realized if I stretched my arm out, I would be hitting the floor. I could just feel my back starting to seize. I thought, ‘oh crap, now what am I supposed to do’? I started pulling the bedspread towards me, little by little, until the phone was in my hand. I called Laura and she rushed over. (Thank God she was home and not in Palm Springs where she had planned to be.) She came in and somehow managed to pick me up and toss me on the bed. This was both a good thing (I was no longer stuck in a ridiculous position) and an excruciatingly painful thing, as that caused my back to go into complete spasms. I screamed, and kept screaming because, although I was now on the bed, I was in a weird half up and half down position. She had to flip me onto my back, all the while I am screaming in pain. The pain was no better once I was lying flat, but after a bit, it let up a little. At least I wasn’t screaming anymore. Her first thought was get me to the hospital. Obviously, that would mean calling the paramedics. I argued that there was nothing that they could do for me and it would cost me $1000, at the very least. Unfortunately, I have been through this before, though not in quite the same way, and I know I just have to wait it out.

The first time this happened to me was in about 1997 and I collapsed while working. My (then) husband eventually came down to my workroom and found me on the floor. He tried to get me up, but I passed out from the pain and back down to the floor I went.
He (we) decided to just let me lie there for a while and try again. After about an hour, he came back and by this time I had to pee. There was a (gross) toilet down there, but it made more sense to get me upstairs so I wasn’t stuck in the basement. We, of course, lived on the 3rd floor. Slowly, but very slowly, we made our way up to the apartment. He took me in the bathroom and lowered me to the toilet and left the room. When I finished, I tried to stand up, but passed out from the pain, and ended up on the floor. Again. (What’s really amazing is, given all the times I’ve passed out and hit my head, that I don’t have significant brain damage. And I’m sure there are those that would say I actually do!) So my husband comes and picks me up and walks me to the bedroom and tells me to stay there, that next time I need to go to the bathroom, he’ll help me down and back up off the toilet. I called my (physician) mother and asked what I should do. She informed me there was nothing to be done, that I would get better each day and in 3 days, I’d be fine. Dang, if that’s not exactly what happened.

The next, and last, time it happened was in July 2010. That time, though, my back threatened for 2 years. The day it went out I was in Point Loma for a Bar Method (a ballet-based exercise) class. It was definitely hurting during the class and afterwards, I was unable to bend over to tie my shoes. I had to sit in a chair and put my feet up in the air to tie them. I gingerly made my way down the steps to my car and got in. I could barely extend my leg and it hit me that this was a major problem as I have a stick-shift and a clutch. I had to move the seat all the way up to be able to work the pedals. How I made it home without crashing is still a mystery. When I did get here, luckily my next door neighbor was outside in the back when I pulled up and haphazardly parked. She helped me out of the car and walked me into my house and straight to my bed, where I spent 6 days.

On saturday, after I stopped screaming, I called my mother and she reiterated what I already knew and had told Laura: nothing to do but rest and wait it out.
Periodically, for the rest of Saturday, a spasm would hit me. I was glad the weather has been cool and all the windows are closed. My neighbors couldn’t hear my screams and thinking I was being murdered, call the police. With all the lying around I’ve been doing, I’ve had plenty of time to try and figure out why this happened and with no warning. My conclusion is this: As you can see from the previous paragraphs, I have definite issues with my back. I always wondered why the attack did not injure my back more. Oh sure, it hurt somewhat, but it was more my neck from the whiplash that gave me the most trouble. Now, I think I understand why my back went now, after I finally made it back to the scene of the crime and graduated from therapy, and not when the attack occurred. It was my body’s way of protecting me, for making it so I was physically able to go to therapy each week, and be able to work through all that had to be dealt with to heal from the attack. With it all behind me now and 5 days out of therapy, my back decided it was the perfect time to go out.

And go out it did. I’ve been in bed now since approximately 1:45p on Saturday (but who’s counting?) This time it is completely different from the other times. This time I literally cannot get up. At all. You might be wondering, how does one go to the bathroom if one cannot move? Laura did her best to cajole me out of bed Saturday night, but if you can’t move, you can’t move and no amount of telling me I HAVE to get up will make me get up. Ever resourceful, though, Laura went off to Rite Aid to see what was available for invalids such as me. She returned with ‘bladder control pads for women’ and ‘disposable bed pads’ meant for kids. Hey, at least there are options. For those of you who have never purposely peed in bed, (which I, of course, did as a kid, but that’s a whole other story) it’s a lot harder than you might think. First of all, I have to put this really long (practically goes from my belly button to the center of my back) and really thick (picture on old-fashion Kotex, doubled) pad over me and ya gotta hold it in place or you end up peeing on the pee pad, which is, fortunately, there just for that reason. The sensation, though, is strange: it is very warm and it feels like pee is going everywhere. And, believe it or not, it is really hard to pee lying down. Gravity is not working in my favor. For some reason, too, although I am drinking hardly any water (so I don’t have to pee) I am peeing all the time. You cannot believe how excited and happy I’ll be to be able to get out of bed and use the bathroom. It’s the small things in life that mean so much!

This seems to be the last part of my healing from the sexual assault. The EMDR cleared out all the crap I was still holding onto from my childhood and the other various traumas I’ve suffered in my lifetime, including this one. I successfully went back to the scene of the crime without any triggers being activated. I do tend to hold my stress in my lower back, and without question, the last 13+ months were extremely stressful for me. Now that stress is out, and as soon as I am able to move again, I’ll be completely shiny and new! Thinner, too, since I haven’t had much to eat and am still carrying the weight I gained after the attack. Yes, it is ALL working out perfectly and just as it is meant to.

I have no idea how long I’ll be stuck in bed. Luckily, I have my iPhone and iPad and books and magazines to occupy my time. Still, it is incredibly boring. Please say a prayer and send lots of healing energy my way.

2 NOVEMBER 2011

Posted on by
Reply

It is just by chance that my journal entries match up to the actual date.  This will not always be the case, but it seems silly to not post it just because it is right now.  I should also let you know that these entries are not edited, though I sure would like to rewrite a lot of it.  It’s what I was thinking and feeling at the time, so changing anything doesn’t seem quite right. Just keep in mind that it was a severely traumatized person who was writing this and I was doing my best to make sense of what had happened and what I was going through.  I so clearly did not ‘get it’ at the time.

 

2 November 2011

I went and joined the gym at the hospital again.  My intention was to join Hollywood Fitness, and Bill and I even went in last night so he could see it.  The deal, according to the paper, was $1 to join and $29/month for just gym use or $49 w/gym and all classes.  Sounded good.  Well, it turned out to be a bit of a scam.  They wanted first and last month and an automatic credit card withdrawal, and the guy was just so jerky.  I had to leave, so I did.  Laura had walked uptown with me and she had to run out after me.   I felt compelled to get away; I just couldn’t stay another minute.  So back to the kind-of-boring, but reliable, hospital gym I will be going.  And even though Bill and I are going to do yoga at the Cove tomorrow night, I’m still gonna go to the gym in the morning and re-acquaint myself with the stairmaster and weight machines.

After I walked down to the hospital and took care of my business there, I walked around Tidelands Park and under the bridge, up to the end of the golf course (but not on Gloiretta) and back.  I would have walked further but I was wearing flipflops and my toes started to hurt.  It has been made very clear that the loss of all the miles I logged every week walking is a huge loss to me.  Since I am unable (at this time) to get myself out there to walk and one yoga class a week isn’t nearly enough exercise, it is still imperative that I get my butt in gear, however I can.  As Susie said, I should look at it as a temporary solution while I rebuild my life.

The other thing that is abundantly clear is I have got to figure out a way to work in spite of my brain not working properly right now.  I cannot and will not let someone else dictate my life.  Yes, I am feeling out of control and, at times, like I am truly losing it.  The reality is I’m not.  It’s just my brain playing tricks on me.  So I need to get a new intention and it is, as of 5:18p, 2 November 2011:  1. To get the jobs completed that are awaiting my talents;  2. To get more jobs;  3. To continue writing each day, so that I will have a complete record of the process and my feelings about the trauma I suffered;  4. To do more with my custom fabrics;  5. To start speaking about my experience to audiences;  6. To believe in the future again;   7. To live happily ever NOW!

As I was walking this afternoon, I was listening to Dr. Wayne Dyer’s “The Power of Intention.”  It is so amazing how I ALWAYS hear exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it.  I really do have to start re-framing and stating what it is I intend, not all the negative I’ve been dwelling on.  Yes, there is no doubt there is a lot of negative and I’m not sure how else to deal with it without talking so much about it.  I also know, at some point, I’ve got to stop going over and over it.  What you resist, persists.  What you think about all day long is what manifests.  Which means changing my self-talk, my inner dialogue.  I know there must be a way to talk about it and still move past it, especially if I shift my work more towards this aspect.  I forgot to write that intention on the list above, and, truly, this is a huge, life-changing intention for me.  So here goes:  It is my intention to transform the trauma I suffered in September (and in all my life) into a new project/business of writing and speaking.  I have been wanting for so long now to change what I’m doing.  Although it came about in a tragic way, the new avenue that my life can go down has been handed to me, if not quite on a silver platter, then on the cement outside the Hotel Del.

I do have homework for Monday’s therapy.  I have to make a list of the top 10 worst and the top 10 best things in my life.  [Here I am choosing not to include those 20 things at this time.  I will come back to them at a later date.]

Laura is leaving tonight for London for a month.  I’m taking her tot he airport at 6:30p.  She’s leaving Hiccup with me for safekeeping.  Ian is staying at her house while she is gone.  She has been so ‘here’ for me during the last 5 weeks, that I’m sure I’ll miss her.  I’m envious, I suppose.  I wish, in a way, that it was me going away for a month.  With Bill, of course.

And speaking of Bill, we went to dinner at The Tavern last night.  It was good, but the menu is completely different from the tasting menu we sampled in July.  Or August, whenever that was.  And even though we hadn’t seen each other in a week, we did NOT have sex.  The fact is that every time we do now, my eyes leak, and that, apparently, has him freaked out.  Of course, it makes me feel even less desirable than I already feel.  I guess I need to tell him this.  All he really wants to do is fix everything and believe me, I wish he could.  Unfortunately, he can’t really do much besides be there for me and encourage me.  A lot of times, though, I feel like he thinks I’m not doing enough.  What he, and everyone else for that matter, cannot possibly understand is the things I’m going through are a result of the attack/trauma I suffered and I can’t help what’s happening.  There is a huge disconnect in my brain and my body and this I am unable to do anything about it right now.  It’s all going to take time.  It sucks, I know, I’m living it.  It is truly a case of no one possibly being able to understand what I am going through unless they’ve been through it themselves.  And a lot of people have all kinds of trauma happen all the time.  I guess, though, that it manifests differently for everyone, while at the same time, it’s basically the same.  I guess that doesn’t really make any sense.  I think I’m trying to say is the attack and trauma I suffered was unique to me because it happened to me and my brain and body are processing it according to my experiences.  So that means that NO ONE can really understand what I’m going through.  The physical and psychological things are common to all those who suffer a traumatic event, but they are also all different.  Round and round it goes…

All I can do is my best.  Take each day one at a time.

Probably the other person that this has affected most is Bill.  Maybe he should talk to someone as well.  He doesn’t quite know what to do and neither does anyone else.  No one that I personally know has ever had to deal with this.  Or if they did, they aren’t talking.  There is obviously a big part of me that can’t shut up about it.  I want and maybe even need everyone to know.  So until I feel like I’ve talked about it enough, I suppose I’ll go on telling my story to everyone I know and even those I don’t.

 

 

1 NOVEMBER 2011, 2012

Posted on by
2

As I was reading through my journal last night, I was/am amazed at the way I thinking and the ways in which my brain was and was not working.  I also wrote a lot more than I thought I did, especially at the beginning.  As I told my boyfriend the other day, he (and everyone else now) will learn a lot more of what was going on with me post-attack than I let on.  Part of that was not understanding what I was truly going through, part was that I didn’t want him to think I was a complete loser or nut case and part was I didn’t want to be a bother, to him or anyone.  It is so interesting how our brains work to protect us, especially in times of great trauma.  I definitely learned a whole lot more about a lot of things, including the brain, than I ever thought I would.  And the brain is quite a fascinating organ.  I will share more about this at a later date.

My post today is taken directly from my journal.  It is exactly what I was feeling and going through a year ago today.

1 November 2011

Turns out the weird feelings I’m having are all part of the process.  More symptoms are coming out.  My body and mind have, apparently, been in protection mode since the attack and I’m just starting to feel some things.  Knowing this does not make it any easier.  In fact, knowing that it will most likely get a whole lot worse before it gets better does not make me happy at all.  NOT AT ALL.  There is such a disconnect in my brain.  I did manage to go to yoga this morning.  It is about the only thing I seem capable of actually doing.

I have got to force myself to do some work.  For the first time in a while, I actually have several jobs waiting to be done.  It’s not that I don’t want to work.  I do.  I can’t seem to concentrate long enough, or well enough, to do what needs to be done.  I think the reason I was able to do the pillows the week before last is because I didn’t really have to ‘think’ about how to do them, since I’ve made about a million pillows.   The baby bumper I’m supposed to be doing is quite another story.  I even have the actual bumper to copy and I look at it and  cannot figure out how to do it.   I’m visualizing over and over making it in my mind so that I am able to make it in reality.

I talked to Bill four different times yesterday!  He even wanted to come take me to dinner, but, basically, I talked him out of it.  It’s not that I didn’t want to see him and  I know he really wanted to see me, but he was exhausted and I haven’t shaved my legs in over a week.  It seemed a better idea for him to sleep in his own bed and to, hopefully, get a good night’s sleep.  And he has an appointment with his eye doctor this morning.  So, maybe I’ll see him later today.  I guess there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to see him at all.  It’s the part that’s doing it’s best to protect me from being hurt anymore.  I truly do not believe, though, that he will hurt me and, right now, it is such a battle going on inside me.

One thing Susie mentioned (again) yesterday was how hopeful she is for my recovery from this trauma (and all the others that are still stuck in my brain/body) because of all the deep, intense work I’ve done in the past and just how hard I’ve fought to remain alive.  And still, in spite of that, that small part of me that wants to check out early is alive and well.  Oh, joy!  Okay, not so much.  Will it ever get easier?  Will that feeling ever go away completely?  It’s not that I am really afraid that I’ll do anything, but it is so disconcerting knowing it may rear its ugly head at the most inopportune moments, throwing me into, if not actual depression, then at least into panic-mode.  It pretty much sucks.  I just want to feel happy and whole again.

I GRADUATED!!!!!!

Posted on by
6

Yesterday was my last session with my amazing therapist, Susie Morgan.  As much as I loved her, I hated therapy just as much, if not more.  Believe me, I know I am very fortunate to have found her and to have had the Victims Compensation Program paying for my therapy.  It was not inexpensive.  By my calculations, it cost approximately $16,000 or so.  I could never have afforded it myself.  I also know that without the therapy I would not be where I am today.

It turns out that by my returning last week to the scene of the crime, the final piece of my journey fell into place.  Susie told me yesterday that when I left her office the previous Monday she never thought I’d be able to actually do it without several more sessions of processing the fear that had such a tight grip on me.  I think it basically came down to me wanting to be finished with therapy, to wanting to finally be able to take back ‘my’ entire island and to knowing inside that I COULD do it.  I told her yesterday that I wished I had done it sooner and she told me that I did it when I was able to.  The truth is I couldn’t have done it before.  I wish I could have, but I simply was not ready.  

The last 403 days (and, yes, I did just count to be sure) have been such a roller coaster ride.  It’s not a ride I ever thought I’d be on and one I hope no one else ever has to take.  Unfortunately, that will probably not be the case.  Everyone is different and traumatic events will not be experienced the same by anyone.  The one thing that is true, though, is that without professional help, you will NOT heal.  Oh sure, you may be able to put the attack, or whatever happened, out of your mind and maybe even fool most people into thinking that you are okay.  You will want to be.  You will want to just put it behind you.  You will want to pretend that it didn’t happen or that it wasn’t so bad.  After all, you survived it, right?  You won’t be okay, though, and no amount of wishing, hoping, even praying will make it so.  It is SO important that you get into therapy.  I worked harder than I ever have in my entire life this last year and that’s why I can be sharing this with you now.  Another thing I know for certain is that you deserve to be more than just okay.  I urge you to do whatever it takes to make that a reality.

One last thing – I mentioned this before in my post about how my face has changed, that my way of describing how I looked different to myself (and to a lesser degree, to others) was that I had lost my ‘shiny.’  Well, yesterday Susie told me, as she was trying not to cry (which, of course, made me cry) that there is now a light in my eyes that she had never seen before.  My shiny is back!