Refusing Hell

I'm 44 years old. I've been to hell and back more than once, more than twice. I'm not going there again. I'm taking a stand, I'm making my choice. I may hover on the precipice of it for a moment longer, but I refuse to fall back in. It's too difficult to get out, and I WAS out. But I guess I wasn't far enough away. The magnetic pull on those old iron deposits ~ my long ago bruises from the past ~ still allowed me to get suckered in, post-mortem to the deed, but it still happened. So I stand here and look down. I see clearly all the claw marks, mine. Indicators of me having gotten out before. Why can't I just walk away right now?

Complex PTSD.

And just when ya think ya get over the last something in life, a new something can easily side-swipe you, and down you go. You'd think by now I'd know better, be stronger, something. But the sad reality of victim-hood is; once you've been there, done that... it barely takes a breeze to turn those old bruises bright purple again. The stupidest part about all this? I wasn't THE victim this time. I DID see the signs and knew better. I was spared. My friends weren't. Now I'm part of the clean-up party and though it's not my mess, I was on the invitation list, I was a target. He used me to get to them, and he got em. And my heart is broken for them. And in all this sweeping and mopping we're now doing to try to clean up after the monster...my bruises turned bright and painful when I wasn't looking. When I was busily trying to help, to salvage, to report, to make right what I couldn't stop...they snuck to the surface again, and the magnet went into action. The rusted old metal in the bruisings were caught and I woke up standing here, looking down into the hole I've climbed out of so many times. Thank heaven I didn't fall in.

I was triggered all over again because he's a predator. Because this represents vulnerability. Because this means it doesn't matter how old you are or how much you learn, you can always be in someone's cross-hairs for the hunt. And it was almost me. Even though it wasn't me, I can't fix it all. I still feel the helplessness of childhood, of battered wife syndrome, of life. I cannot control, did not control, will never be able to control; my environment. And as I struggle to control the one thing I can control, I weep for those of my friends he harmed, it got too close. I know them. I love them. He had no right. I hide from the world because of people like him, incidents like this...whether near or far. And its staring me in the face. I have things to do. I've already done things. Steps. Steps to say “no you can't”. Steps to take back some control. They're meant to heal as they're carried out. Each step I take to reclaim what was lost for me, for them...seems to be drawing me closer to that edge. But doing what I'm doing, my perpetual hiding, isn't turning me in the other direction and steering me clear of the abyss.

Do I seek revenge?

If the answer is yes, that makes me no better than he is. No better than my ex who was constantly needing to one up everyone. No better than the child victim who turns into the adult predator in a sick effort to make someone weaker, smaller, younger, feel that vulnerable victimization. Afterall someone did it to them, so they're justified? Only in their delusional minds.

No. I'm not like that. I've always ever sought safety for myself, my children, other potential victims. Of course predators will twist this to say I'm vindictive, because it means they were stopped in their tracks where I'm concerned. They were caught, they were interrupted, they got in trouble. Because of their choices. But somehow in their sick, dark selves they've decided this makes me vindictive. No, this makes me pro-active. Very pro-active. And I was again. I was doing great. And then something happened. Some thing, I don't know what, but here I am. Not doing great. Not being pro-active, vindictive, nothing.....nothing but scared of my own shadow again.

I'm reminded of my jar of earth. This is another rock to add. It's not one of the big black, sharp-edged ones. It's just a small pebble. It will fit without much effort I'm sure, but I need the diamond dust and healing sands that only my Savior can give me. I have no answers, not even on my book shelf, not for this one. This would be spectator victimization, if there is such a thing. But, yeah, it affected me. I won't let it anymore. He cannot have that much power over me, or I am no longer a spectator, I become one of his victims. I refuse. I've come too far.

Since its after midnight, I can say: today is a new day with no mistakes in it. Today I start over. With divine intervention. I can finish cleaning up, helping the victims...it's what I do. I begin with me. I deserve a break. I deserve to be taken care of too. I'll see to my bruises, settle them down again. Then I'll pick up the broom and continue sweeping up his mess. One of my favorite quotes ends with “I will not let this life defeat me.” And I won't.

Inspiration for today:

“Success is not final, Failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

~ Winston Churchill

“Truth will ultimately prevail where there are pains to bring it to light.”

~ George Washington

“The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling, but in rising after you fall.”

~ Vince Lombardi

The jar of earth

In front of me on the kitchen counter sits an over-sized mayonnaise jar devoid of its original contents and label. Empty.

Beside it; a pile of dirt and rocks. The pile is larger than the jar. I have been given instructions; put the pile in the jar, make it fit. Then wait here, you have another job to do after that. I roll my eyes and look out the window. Its raining. Again.

I pick up the first rock; its black, heavy and wears only sharp edges. I drop it with a thud into the glass jar. The bottom cracks, just a bit. I look for my instructor, concerned, now what? No one is with me. I look at the clock, its been set to a timer. I didn't know there was a time frame I had to complete this in!

I start cramming the stones, pebbles and sand into the jar as quickly as I can. I frequently glance at that timer ticking away. No, it doesn't fit. I dump it out, I try again. Over and over as I attempt to repack the jar with the shovel full of earth I fail. Time is running out, I am getting upset. Through tears I try one more time, but this time I ask out loud to the no one there, “how am I supposed to do this!?” No one responds but I sense, start at the beginning. Same black, jagged rock goes in first, then another larger rock then another as the tears stream down my face with more intensity and that clock ticks more and more loudly in my ears and the aloneness of that room closes in around me.

I sweep the last of the sand and dust from the counter with one hand into the jar, just as the timer rings. I barely made it. Everything barely fit.

Again I sit alone. I wait. No one comes back to give me the next step. I stare at that stupid jar. What the heck was all that for?

“It's your life.”

Startled, I turn around to see my instructor standing there. “What's my life?”

“The contents of that jar.”

I look at the jar with more disdain than I had before. No it isn't. My life isn't a jumble of rocks and dirt. He approaches me and the jar, He dumps it out. I am aghast, that took me hours!

He began with the same first black rock. The jar cracked a little more even as He placed it in the bottom. Then he added a smooth stone colored in taupe’s and creme's and a hint of pink, a stripe of blue; beautiful. Then He added what looked like a small pearl. I hadn't even noticed it. Some dust, another smooth stone or two, the largest black rock with razor sharp edges, 5 diamonds of the purest quality, more pearls, more of everything lying on the counter in a heap, and every speck of dust. It fit. How He placed each item in the jar was different than I had done. He did it with knowing precision. His design created an amazing picture from my new view of the glass. I could hardly see the black pointed edges, they only peeked out here and there. My tears began again but the reason was different. It wasn't fear and frustration this time. It was relief and gratitude. My life wasn't just an ugly pile of dirt in a jar. It was a work of art despite the painful, ugly parts. It was a beautiful history.

We looked at the jar as long as I needed to, from every angle, even the bottom; I looked at that crack. My eyes asked what my heart was worried about, “will the bottom fall out at some point?” Yes. But that doesn't mean it can't be fixed. And when that happens, we'll put it all back in again, together.

OK.

We left the jar and I walked out to live; to add more to the seemingly bottomless holder of my life's events.

I often wondered at the jar and its picture, what it contained. At different points in my life I learned what each item represented, but even as I knew what happened it didn't mean I knew what to do with it.

Then I met Marlene.

That's when step two began.

*****************************************************************

Rescripting

“Have you ever wanted to rewrite or replay a part of your life? We have all had traumatic events that have affected us more deeply that we can consciously understand. When the trauma took place, whether it was a time when we felt humiliated, hurt, shamed, neglected or abused the brain stored and categorized every detail of that event in a complex library within the mind. This library acts as a fortress of defense, a sort of 'automatic response center' which helps prevent us from feeling those same hurts again.

“Everything about the incident is deconstructed internally and stored in minute detail. At any time from that point forward, if we are stimulated by ANYTHING that reminds us of those traumatic incidents our body and mind instinctively, in defense if itself, creates a block, a wall, or a defense against a repeat assault. This translates physically into our not feeling well. These defenses manifest themselves in many different ways. We may feel more nervous, maybe get a headache, we might feel anxiety or even have a full blown panic attack. Then we digest the experience coupled with all the emotion the experience evoked within us and we interpret the experience based on our understanding of the world around us, and because we have a finite and limited vision of the world we form mis-beliefs. And then we internalize these mis-beliefs as truths; and then these truths become the foundation upon which we build our lives, our personalities and our self images and we play out our every day lives based on these mis-believed “truths”.

“Example 1

“A child is teased by his mother in front of her friends and feels shame. The child has feelings of resentment toward his mother, he may form feelings of inadequacy or feel that he is not valued or cannot trust the world. The experience may have caused him to feel unsafe. With that belief having formed as part of his real world experience, it is now a standard against which decisions are measured. This experience then affects every relationship in his life, casual and intimate, impeding his progress and sabotaging his self-esteem. This may manifest as trust issues, perhaps he has a tendency to back out of big commitments because deep down he feels inadequate. He gets frequent back aches and headaches.

“These thought processes created, stored and when triggered from within his 'automatic response center' have a direct affect on the chemical reactions and processes that the brain sends throughout the body to control its reaction to external stimulus. Negative thoughts create negative results and are manifested physically through illness and dysfunction.

“Rescripting can solve these issues for your life. It is a process of finding the negative root behavior patterns, which is the key to healing. Those key moments you experienced, sometimes in a short instance, may have lasting effects that severely impact your life. They can be forgotten on the conscious level, but they then become the driving force that creates the mis-beliefs around which you have created your entire life. These mis-beliefs play a role in every decision you may make in life. They then affect others because they are processed in ways that manifest in your choices, how you handle relationship issues and they even affect your physical health. With rescripting the core cause of these events is discovered then analyzed, understood, then healed and transformed into correct, truth-based beliefs that empower the individual to move forward with hope, calm, happiness and confidence. Then the trauma that has affected their life for so many years is gone and it no longer has any power over them.

“We can compare a damaging incident to a beautiful piece of music. If an orchestra is playing in harmony and every piece is doing its part, the music flows and sounds beautiful. Then imagine that the trumpet player holds one continuous note, steady, loud, always there to antagonize and disrupt the flow of the orchestra and its course. It would certainly be noticeable to the audience and of course the orchestra is aware of it. Other musicians may have to play more loudly to cover the annoyance or maybe they change the arrangement and over-play to help blend the trumpeter's note into the mix (manifesting behaviors of over-eating or attention seeking). But we all still hear that note roaring in our ears, distorting the entire piece of music. No matter which musical number is played, that note is still being played, ruining every piece. Removing that player who is holding down the note allows the beauty of the music in its perfect harmony to be played. A huge stress has been removed! Relief is felt. Peace comes. The individual can then move forward in life and make decisions based on a standard of their inner self rather than reacting to an artificial stimulus designed to protect and prevent progress. It is truly a life change and when that chapter or moment is rewritten by the individual, they can then move forward in life, unhindered and unfettered.

“The second part of the process is to remove the negative energy patterns that the mis-beliefs caused over time. Every thought we have manifests through energy patterns that affect how we move, how we dress, talk, behave and how our bodies function. When there is a mis-belief then there is a negative energy pattern or even a block in our energy field that causes problems in our lives that are manifested by pain, restriction, illness, learning disability, neurosis and disorders. After the emotional release has been completed, the individual takes some time on the music bed where beautiful music facilitates relaxation and a meditative state of being. The body is then brought into balance through reflexology, acupressure flows, cranial sacral therapy, reiki, aromatherapy and therapeutic touch. The meridians and chakras are all balanced and aligned so that the individual feels lighter, refreshed, cleansed, more flexible and the stress is all removed. They feel optimistic, happy and energized after the session and are finally able to move past blocks and are able to heal both emotionally and physically.”

Marlene E. Holden NHC, CH, Master Bodyworker

870 E. 9400 S. Suite 100 Sandy, UT 84094 (801) 633-8140

mailto:~marleneholden@yahoo.com ~ marleneshealingarts.com

*****************************************************************

I went to see Marlene, I did a rescripting session. I already knew what that big first black rock was, but even after nearly 20 years of traditional therapy, I had no idea how it affected me until I did my session with Marlene. I left there feeling a quietness about me that I had never felt before. I have never been able to sit and just listen to the sound of nothing without many different thoughts and fears invading my brain space, all fighting for my attention. These thoughts were my own orchestra overplaying to drown out the sound of the big black rock trumpets from my life. Of course what happened still happened, but now I do not see myself the way I saw myself for 41 years following that event up to the day I met Marlene. I am no longer a victim of that event. I have other black rocks to look at. My life has not been an easy one, but it has not been as hard as others. My work is not finished. And even though it is my work, I am not doing it alone. I am not so afraid anymore. Is my smudge balloon gone? Did it pop? Yeah. And though I have more to do, I'm not afraid to do it, and though the green balloon popped; another, different color took its place: I am not finished. But its not an ugly color any more. Things may still be somewhat distorted because of my life's events. But so much has changed. I'm looking forward with hope and excitement about the next change and the next. I haven't ever been one to greet a new day with a smile before. Thank you Marlene. Thank You God. (:

Today's Inspiration:

"It's what you learn after you know it all that counts."
~ John Wooden

"It is understading that gives us the ability to have peace."
~ Harry S. Truman

"If a man loses reverence for any part of his life, he will lose reverence for all of his life."

~ Albert Schweitzer

Smudge!

Yes, that is really and truly what the title of this weeks blog is, Smudge. Not like a mascara smudge or a smudge of mud on your shoe. This is a follow-up to last weeks post The Black Ball Syndrome. The best way for me to describe smudge is this: remember when you were a kid, or last week, whichever works...and you would hold a balloon in front of your face and look through it at your surroundings and everything was distorted and tinted the color of the balloon? Like sunglasses, yes-ish. But looking through a rubber balloon does distort things in a way that sunglasses don't. You may want to try this at home to understand the full effect of the object lesson. You'll immediately understand what I'm trying to relay. Nothing looks the same when your looking through smudge.


The color I'm currently looking through is a swamp-green. I didn't even know I was walking around with a balloon shoved in my face until after I re-read TBBS last week. Then it hit me, I may not be trying to see around a solid black ball right now, but things are not as clear to me as they have been or will be again some day. I am seeing things from a tainted perspective. I've thought a great deal about it over the last few days. I've consulted people I know and trust from a psychological stand point, read articles and papers on different topics and then it dawned on me.


Yes, I got out from behind the eight ball, but I am still mopping up leftovers from the person who smacked me in the face with the most recent ball. I'm using all my resources cleaning up how this person affected my kids. And in doing so, I have completely neglected this part of me. I haven't looked long and hard at me and compassionately given me a break. I've been tough on myself emotionally, pushing myself, demanding more and the more I demanded, the less I could give. I have PTSD. It is nothing to be ashamed of. The Black Ball Syndrome is basically that, but PTSD has some residual effects and I'm staring right through them and my world can look like a hideous color of green because of it.


Does PTSD mean a person is crazy? Aw heck no! It means a person was hurt and now they live in fear. Some professionals will call that generalized anxiety disorder, others will say its a fear that makes a lot of sense given the person's history. I know mine does. It has taken me years prior to now and serious soul searching this week to figure it out. I have the right to be afraid. I don't want to be. I want to stop seeing everything as though it is a scary green color. I don't want my view distorted. I'm generally very proactive about seeking help, but my kids have needed me, so I dropped me for them. The best choice is going to be finding balance, healing for all of us. The road to recovery is not a pill, one therapy session & voila! I'm fixed. No one is, especially when the trauma has had serious implications on their lives. It takes work. It takes a change in perspective.


My friend, Susan Kingsley-Smith wrote on her Empowering Solutions facebook page the following quote
(I swear she did it just for me!):


" 'Irrational' feelings of fear, anger, anxiety etc... are often very rational when comprehended in the full context of ones experiences."


I know this is true of me and my kids.


I'm not 'paranoid' to think someone is lying to me. I was lied to for years, by many people. Someone in particular took great pains, to cover their tracks and keep me from knowing who they really were, about their double life and all the things they did to keep that double life hidden. It is not weird for me to suspect that there are disloyal people out in the world. I've run into many, especially some disguised as friends. These past experiences are smudges for me. These are some of my unhealed emotional bruises. These keep that line of vision all mucked up. It doesn't make me crazy, it makes me understandably scared.


As I watch my kids struggle through their own pain, now I get it more than I did yesterday. I have even more empathy and compassion for them as I give it to me. The longer I hide away behind the green smudge, denying my hurts to be heard, to be validated, the longer those bruises will have the power to hurt me.


Another quote from Susan:


"I realized that the reason I kept talking about the past was because I'd not yet been heard. Validation is vital; its like oxygen. Sharing with someone I trusted to honor, yet not "fix" my pain, became an empowering solution."
And,
"Although for me my pain had been dismissed for so long and I'd been told I was "blaming" when I tried to address my trauma experiences. Invalidating ones normal emotional reaction to trauma is invalidating them as a person; this left me confused and reinforced the trauma's that told me it was my fault and that something was wrong with me. Having my feelings validated - that my experiences were horrendous - allowed me to put responsibility for the trauma/abuse back on the abusers and freed me from believing something was wrong with me and the shame I'd carried that I'd had such an intense reaction to these experiences."


I know that when I try to be responsible for what happened that isn't mine, I do feel a strange, foreign shame. It feels that way because it doesn't belong to me. When people discount what we endured, its like they're saying I'm a liar. I absolutely understand what Susan is saying in all of these quotes. And all the denying, invalidating and silencing keeps smudge happily in is place; denying the viewer a happier view.


As people who have had traumatic experiences once, its likely that we'll have them again and again. I have yet to meet anyone who hasn't experienced something or another. And if they don't validate the pain, all their lives are spent pretending and they are never free. Those of us who can raise our hands and say "yep, I was", have a better chance at surviving the harsh realities of life, have lower blood pressure and are less prone to cardiovascular illness. And we seem to grow more empathy than the deny-ers.


IS the world a scary place? Yep. But it also has beauty and love AND good people in it too. So, I have a new job to do. I need to stop seeing the world through a smudge colored balloon; all distorted and frightening. Its time for me to give myself a break, give myself a hug, pat me on the back and take time to heal me too.


Pretty soon, you will hear a very loud POP!!


Inspiration for today:


"You are more than what is hurting you tonight."
~ MercyMe


"Choose to align yourself with people who are like minded in their search for simplified inspiration. Give those who find fault or who are confrontational a silent blessing and remove yourself from their energy as quickly as possible. Your life is simplified enormously when you don't have to defend yourself to anyone and when you receive support rather than criticism."
~ Dr. Wayne Dyer

"Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
~ Anais Nin


An article from our local paper about PTSD.
http://www.standard.net/topics/medical/2011/05/01/child-abuse-trauma-can-surface-later

The Black Ball Syndrome

The Black Ball Syndrome

Several years ago I had to take my daughter to the Genetics Department at Primary Children's Hospital, adjunct to University of Utah, for some genetic testing. There I met Dr. Alan Rope, a pediatrician and head of genetics. As we discussed what was going on with my daughter he told me of something he referred to as having a "type of black ball in front of you all the time and you can only see out around the edges." Since that time I have thought a lot about his description of such a state of mind. I am the one who gave it the name, but I attribute the idea to him.


The Black Ball Syndrome is basically when something traumatic has occurred in your life and it so blocks your vision that you literally cannot see much of anything else but that trauma, heartache and sorrow. Being depressed is the norm and often you live in a way you generally wouldn't if only you could see your way clear to your life itself. At times, you may not even know what the causing trauma is, but you can't focus or concentrate on your world around you nor can you offer up much to it either. In essence, you yourself are metaphorically behind the eight ball.


I lived this way for many years. I can attest that it exists. No, I never knew it by this moniker, nor did I know I was doing it, but in retrospect I clearly see it. Did I ever find out what my trauma was, yes. Had I not, I cannot imagine I would have ever gotten out from behind that big black bowling ball. I remember not being able to concentrate or be aware of much of anything going on around me. I also remember being one who stayed on the fringe on things...not really getting involved, not contributing, doing a lot of following; not always to good places either. I always felt like an annoying piece of lint. I did a lot of pretending to fit in. I had no idea who I was. I wasn't really living. And quite frankly being in this state of mind isn't much more than that. What could one do if a ball the size of their face sat in front of it? Not much.


Is it just trauma that can cause this? I don't know. I'm not a trained clinician. I never read about this "syndrome" in the DSM IV when one day I decided to pick the thing up and read it. My guess? I think choices can cause it too. Not only cause it but enlarge it.


I have a very strange hobby. I like to people watch. I like to observe human behavior in many different modes (yeah, yeah. I know, I should be a therapist). Anyway, in my many years of observing, either from far away or right in the mix of things, I have seen that certain choices seem to make a person much more oblivious to their world. I know I never want to return to that state of mind again. I work hard to keep from being blinded by whatever could cause it to happen again at this stage in my life. But I have watched people create it and choose to stay there even once they find out they have made the ball themselves. At this point I think one would refer to it as denial. Denial is often confused for the blissful form of innocence. It's not. The symptoms of the syndrome are the same, but the selfishness is worse when the syndrome is developed by choice. And why stay there? Isn't it nice to not have the accepted weight of accountability on your shoulders?


As I look back at my years of living with TBBS, I can tell you I have regret. I have wishes. I want for things and I can't change one iota of my life from that time. I can tell you it's happened more than once, and never by choice. I can tell you I would rewrite so many parts of my life if I could; especially the parts that involve my children. How did I get that thing to finally roll off my face? Years of therapy, years of prayer, years of crying, years of learning how to live again. And each time it happened; I had to learn to walk, all over again.

If you have a big black ball stuck in your line of vision, find out why. You can make it go away. The view is better out here.

My friend Marlene E. Holden has 26 years in the healing arts. She has an office at the Quantum Healing Arts Clinic. She has developed a vey effective process of "Rescripting" which can transform and rewrite the cause of negative behaviour patterns such as: depression, anxiety, low self esteem, grief, feeling "stuck", bitterness, control issues, etc.. This process does not require the client to share intimate details. It helps find the cause of the negative pattern and effectively releases it leaving one feeling confident, calm, vibrant, grounded and motivated to go forward in life with happiness, love and light. You can contact Marlene at marleneholden@yahoo.com, 801-633-8140. See more information about her on facebok under Marlene's Healing Arts page.


Inspiration for today:


"Simple faith has the power to guide you through every challenge you may face in your life."
~M. Russell Ballard


"True reconciliation does not consist in merely forgetting the past."
~Nelson Mandela


"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
~Franklin Roosevelt

Another exerpt from my book.....

"HER"
"When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling in the cracks with gold. They believe that when something has suffered damage, it has a history and therefore becomes more beautiful and valuable*. Too often the world sees those who admit to being hurt as “damaged goods” and somehow lacking, yet it's the breaking that makes even the weak stronger, and the mighty more compassionate. What could be wrong with that? I agree with the Japanese, after all, it's what can assist in making us more divine, if we're willing.

"I myself have been broken and glued back together, not sure if gold was involved, but something was used, perhaps not a very good adhesive, but something gooey.

"I smile as I help my children ready for school. I hug them before they leave for the day. I promise that all our dreams will one day be fulfilled and mommy won't be this way anymore. I lie to them each time I utter this promise. Not on purpose. I just know of myself that a life with no hope is no life at all. So I give them a hope. I too must believe this will someday be lifted from me, even if in my death. The Savior died so that I might live. I only wish I could do more of it here and now, for them more than for me. And thus re-begins that depression that won't ever truly end. The stink of it ever present. I remind myself everyday that it only takes the slightest move in any direction to begin change in a life. Even a fractured action today is more powerful than nothing for days on end and then a frenzied attempt at measurable changes over night. The small and mundane lasts longer as it builds up, and the change is irreversible......for good or bad. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” I trip into hope each day, willing it to at least be a beginning. But a beginning at what?"

At LIFE.

Inspiration for today:

"Are you green and growing or ripe and rotting."
~Ray Kroc

"Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."
~John Wooden

"Trip into hope each day."
~Kelly Petersen


*I first read a quote about this on Pamela Bray's facebook page, I thank her for her contribution.