DBT, Self Sabotage, Fear, and Acceptance

This morning I received a phone call from the psychologist that facilitates the DBT group I previously attended.  I wasn't in a spot to talk to my therapist at the time the call came in and so I sent it straight to voicemail.

I know the DBT skills.  I was in the group for 9-10 months about a year and half ago.  I do use the tools I was taught.  However, there is a very strong part of me that is unable to use those tools from time to time. Okay, often I'm unable to use them.

As I drove home this afternoon from an appointment w/my orthopedic surgeon, the reality of I really do need to attend this group again.  Many feelings came up over the course of the next few hours.

This picture kind of illustrates some of those feelings. A small scared kitten...coming upon big bad puppies at the door in front of me.  Those puppies are nothing but lovable, endearing, and probably will be my best allies in due time. Just as healing can provide the same comfort.

Overwhelmed with fear.  Urges came to the surfaces.  Ones that I couldn't fight off.  I want to hide and run away at the same time.  I've wanted to do everything possible to not feel the true feelings about "What is really behind the emotions regarding this group..."  

I came home and took the DBT binder and put it in the trash.  Determined that I don't need this group.  I don't want to attend. I am overwhelmed with the thought of it.  And so, forget it. I'm not going there again.  Hell to the no.

This is where the self sabotage comes into play.  I have the opportunity to give this group a try again.  I have the opportunity to get the help that I need.  Not everyone is blessed with the ability to have unlimited mental health coverage like I do.  It comes at a high price (stress of my job) and I don't for a moment take it for granted.

What the hell am I so afraid of?  Why throw the damn book in the garbage?  WHY?  I took it out of the garbage.  Put it back in the drawer where I took out of and walked away.  The urges were more than I could fight off, again. I gave in.  Again.  For as long as there was hot water, I hide ran away from the intense feelings of where this was all coming from.  The fear became tears.  I could feel (or taste) the tears as I stood  in the hot shower.  I could feel those feelings.  And at that moment....I knew what the hell I'm so incredible afraid of.  What was driving the fear.  The self sabotage.  The self harm.

Holy Hannah it has taken me forever to write this far....to admit it...what I'm afraid of..I'm stuck.  Stuck in being honest with myself.

I think I'm afraid of finding out who the real ME is.  I'm afraid I will find out that I have the ability to beat this.  I'm afraid I will find out that I have the ability to live the best life I can and it is a life worth living.  I'm afraid of finally having to feel the real emotions,  and figuring out at the end of the day, who "ME" is.  Oh my hell that is freaking terrifying...being afraid of yourself is scary as hell.

Typing that..,,took me over an hour.  In between puking and typing...I got it out there.

I've done DBT before.  I know what the work is.  I know it isn't easy.  Nothing in life worth fighting for is easy.  I fear that a second go around won't work.  And if that is the case I don't know what will.  I know that I need to find acceptance with where I am at the moment.  That taking things one step at a time is the only way out.

Yet it is so f*cking terrifying.  I am acutely aware of who one of the psychologist working with this group is.  She is understanding, compassionate, and she knows how incredible difficult dealing with this shit is.  I know she only expects each participant to do the best she can do and be honest with herself (and them).  It is all anyone can ask and it has to be enough.

My options right now are limited.
Self sabotage is not an option.
I know that I need to find healing.

I know that finding acceptance in all of this will come.  In due time.  My options for this evening and the days ahead are to breathe and accept the challenges that lay ahead of me and accepting this group is something that would be in my best interest (along with whatever type of treatment that is needed).

Not sure where I heard this quote....it fits perfectly with today's theme.

"Sometimes the most courageous act is showing love and kindness towards yourself..."

I need to remember this. I want to remember this. At the very moment I can't remember it.

Sh*t or Get off the Pot

This morning I started my day by making the trek to see the "new" surgeon.  He is conservative that is for sure.  I wonder have asked myself over and over in the last few weeks...today..."Did you make the right choice by choosing this guy over his best friend and fellow surgeon.  I will probably never know the answer to this question.  Since this is a work related injury and I'm on my 2nd opinion since the Jackhole, I saw a month ago...I cant change doctors.  Which, is fine with me.  He's not ready to jump into doing surgery until he is confident he knows 100% what is going on and what the source of my pain is.  However, I'm struggling w/being patient.  Patience and I don't always get along.  And this is one of those times. 

I left the clinic today thinking that old saying my mom used to say to all.the.freeking.time.  "Just shit or get off the pot".  And that is where I'm at.

Until then...I remain w/the same restrictions.  I return in 3 weeks.  In hopes for more answers.  He gave me an answer today as to what the problem is right now...  adhesiv.e capulitis....AKA:  froze.n s.houlder.  I've got a long road to recovery, I think.  Which is depressing.

I returned to work for a few hours and then made the trek back to the same side of town I was on earlier in the day to see H*.  I have seen her weekly for the last 3 weeks.  Last week and today some pretty heavy stuff came up.  As in staying present was very difficult.  I struggled getting dressed. I struggled sitting in her office afterwards talking for a few moments.  The fight or flight internal mode was in high gear.  As she shared w/me her experience and what she felt happened and the shifts she felt, I thought I didn't think about it on the same level.  She felt like there was a shift.  Shift in energy, shift in my own personal trauma work, shift in general.  An area that she has never felt to be an issue before screamed very loud and clear.  It was a bit of a different shift for me.  I felt the shift and definately agree that it was different than usual.  I got up feeling stuck.  Stuck and unbalanced so to speak.  The intense pain and areas that were screaming to me while I was there....left shortly after I left her home/office. 

I had a psychiatrist appt w/K*.  I sat outside her office trying to gather my thoughts.  After getting to a place where I was feeling pretty good I went in to my appt.  As usual, K* irked me.  I let her know she was irking me.  I also made it loud and clear that I was not going to continue to have the disagreement that we were having.  She was agreeing with the first Jackhole surgeon.  She did not hear what I was attempting to say.  She was not hearing that I've followed the treatment plan for my shoulder 100%+.  She had it stuck in her head that "after your WLS you ate nothing but popcorn....when asked you said nope not supposed to but....its good and thats what I want".  SHe failed to remember that was the ONLY FOOD (other than toast) that didn't make me vomit for months on end.  When she got stuck on that fact...I got a bit pissed.  And made it VERY CLEAR she could "remember those things if she so choose...and that was 8 fucking years ago (okay I didn't say fuck but came fucking close),  I also made it clear that I would not change her perception, thoughts, or whatever it was that needed to be changed. SHe could think those things if she wanted.  But she did not have all the facts and I was no longer going to debate or argue the point w/her.  I have a new surgeon. He will make an informed choice about surgery and if I'm a canidate based on his findings. Not based on a dx on my chart for which I was never questioned about."  I got my point across. Which was good.

The guilt factor is really coming on hard after yesterdays blow up w/little man.  He sees someone at the same clinic that my pdoc/therapist work at.  I took the kids to dinner after our appts.  I asked little man how his appt was and was there anything he wanted to share w/me.  His face got red, looked away and said nope.  I poked a little bit and said "Did you talk w/Dr. K* about mommy's bad day ysterday and how I got upset and yelled at you?"  He sheepishly shook his head yes.  I told him I was proud that he could talk to him and he was honest w/me about it.  I followed the conversation up with "I hope you were able to remember that mommy did apologize?"  He didn't remember me coming to him afterwards in tears, telling him there was nothing that he did that was his fault and it was all mommy....and blah blah blah...  My heart sank.  And the last several hours guilt has crept in and I feel horrible.  I don't want to be that mom.  I've tried so fucking hard to change that and not blow up at my kids.  The damage is done.  Damn it all.

My heart continues to be heavy as I attempt to find and describe what that safe space will be, how I will get myself there, and what it would look like...in moments of distress, suicidal ideations, and severe downward spirals.  The heaviness comes from the resistance of doing the work.  It is work that I know needs to be done.  Work that I know in my heart I'm ready to do...to move fwd...to shit and get off the pot..  The other part is being able to describe those spaces...I was able for the first time in a very very long time....remove myself from the situation yesterday, to that spot that is safest and quietest for me....I was able to consiously choose NOT to use the hottest water possible...instead just hot enough to be soothing and drown out what needed to be drowned out at that moment.  In doing so, after using all the hot water, I was able to return to what I was doing, attempt to repair the damage w/little man (which i realize today didn't work) and move on. 

I've rambled in this post more than I ever intended to.  It's late.  Everyone is asleep.  The demon puppy is asleep and has finally stopped terrorizing everything/one insight. 

I blog for my own therapy.  Tonight...I needed that therapy.  I've wrote several blog posts and have them in the drafts.  Most likely they will never be published.  And maybe someday, when I'm not in a vulnerable space, when I'm able to speak about the sexual abuse and other crap....I will share them.  For now, it's off my chest.  And I know that I don't have to share them w/anyone but myself.

The Courage to Heal

Today I opened the book:  "The Courage to Heal:  A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse" by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis.     !!!!holy hannah intense is an understatement!!!!

I am not naive.  I knew it would be intense.  I knew there would be parts that were tough.  I barely got to the end of the Preface without an overwhelming feeling of panic and fear.  The effects that sexual abuse has had on me in my life....clearly screaming loud and clear.  I have put the book down and walked away on several occasions in the last several hours.  Unable to read any further.  Paralyzed with fear.  It isn't the fear of feeling unsafe, being abused, or feeling vulnerable.  The fear of speaking...breaking the silence...breaking the power that it has had over me.

Over the last several years I've remained in a world of denial, so to speak.  For nearly 35 years I've maintained silence.  If I don't speak about it.  It didn't happen, right?  Not so much.  I've protected myself.  I've been able to only let bits and pieces of this and that out in the open as I felt safe to do so.  I've been unable to figure out how or why there is such power in not speaking about the details.

The writing exercise at the end of the first chapter is geared towards the way it has affected me and still does.  What kinds of things do I still carry in the terms of my feelings of self worth, my relationships, sexuality, work, ect ect.  It also suggests writing about strengths I've developed because of the abuse. And a few other positives in my life.

As part of the writing method it suggests sharing what you write relatively soon after writing it with a friend, loved one, therapist, someone...ect ect.  I've wrote very openly here on this blog.  However, I'm not sure I'm able (or wanting) to expose myself in this manner here on this blog.  I'm struggling with what sort of balance.  Obviously, sharing these writings with my therapist would be helpful.  And I'm sure at some point will.  I also know that J* reads this blog from time to time.  It is helpful for both of us.  She is able to see me in a different view point...often uncensored, so to speak.    I wish this blog was on word press.  Being able to "password protect" certain posts is VERY VERY attractive to me. 

I could make this blog private.  However, I'm not sure that want to deal with that aspect.  I blog for ME and ME only.  However, as I've said before...if along the way someone...somewhere finds strength in what I've wrote, is able to know that they are not alone....then damn it was worth exposing myself.  I know how much comfort I've received from reading other posts of fellow bloggers.  Some whom I know very intimately.  Many whom all I know is their screen name or blogger name.  Whatever it might be...it has been a life line that I am so thankful that I've had.

I've rambled....I know (you read here often you know that happens...OFTEN).

I will end with something that touched my heart today. Made me smile.  Made me think of my sweet ETAAM Soul Sisters....the intimate group of "tiara wearing mamma's" and how much I miss each of them!! 

Strength in the Broken Places

Finding strength in the broken places can be exhausting.  This is exactly where I'm at this evening as I try and find strength in those places that have left me raw and vulnerable.

I often find myself struggling with bits and pieces of the broken places.

I'm fortunate to have found an amazing massage therapist who is compassionate about the work she does.  After receiving two cortisone injections that left me in extreme amount of pain last night and today I was somewhat hesitant to have a massage.  Knowing that I needed to go...I embarked on a journey today that left me somewhat speechless.

I've spent a majority of the last several hours after leaving my massage trying to process what exactly happened. What I know is....This afternoon I had an experience that left me truly struggling to catch my breathe.  To find strength where there is very little.  It was something that took me completely by suprise.  And has left me trying to find the strength I know I have and hold on tight.  What a blessing it is to have a massage therapist who is passionate about the work she does and was able to guide me back to place of being present, to a place that I was safe and would remain safe and more importantly express to me her knowledge and understanding in what happened as she gentle touched a scar on my head.  Being able to know what happened and understand it is crucial

Much to my surprise when she asked me "How did you get that scar?" I was able in a matter of fact manner tell her.  And even more suprising was able to elaborate on a bit more of  'my story'.  The one that I try so very hard to hide.  And have went to great lengths not to discuss, supress and just move on.

Earlier this week I ordered a few different books.  I'm hoping that these books will give me the Courage that I need to continue healing.

My shoulders are both signficantly better this evening than when I got up this morning.  Still pretty dang painful but much better than they were earlier in the day.

~What WLS Didn't Do~

This has been a very tough post for me to write.  The thoughts, feelings, swirling has been more than I care to admit.  This post is for me more than it is for anyone else.  If you happen to get something out of it; great.  If not, as I said...it is more for me more than anyone else. I hope and pray that one day I can look back and have the same thoughts/feelings that the young lady I will link to in this post has about herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fellow blogger and trauma momma wrote a blog post today that didn't settle so well with me.  Let me be sure to point out....I love her post. I think it is awesome on all LEVELS.  It just didn't sit well w/in my own personal self....thus the reason for this post.  Over the last several hours, I've started to email Christine and then deleted it.  I've started this blog post and then deleted it.  Rinse and repeat about 20 times. 

Yet everytime I go back and read her post, I get something different from it.  Something that hits a very raw wound with in myself.  I try very hard to not think of myself as broken.  The broken mantra has been brought up in therapy several times.  Often J* tell me she thinks that I have this mindset.  Often I think to myself she must be crazy because I've never made this comment to her; nor do I think about it.  I understand where she is coming from in her theme with this.  Yet, when I read this blog post I can't help but think and feel broken. 

When I had gastric bypass 7.5 years ago, they gave me all the tools that I needed to loose weight.  I had nutritional appts, psych appts, surgical appts,  group support, and all that jazz.  I attended every single support group meeting AND was a SPEAKER at several of them over the course of a 2-3 year span of time pre and post op.    Sure, I was given the tools to keep the weight off, kind of.  What was never addressed was how I went from being 135 lbs to 330 lbs. And when I went back down to 145 lbs....everyone freeked the hell out!!  I was dx with anorexia.  I was hospitalized for anorexia.  It wasn't until that low point in my life....was anything EVER addressed in the realms of how I went from 135 lbs to 330 lbs to 140 lbs.  The tools at that point were to medicate me.  And that began an even larger battle...a 5-6 year battle.  I'm no longer 140 lbs.  I've gained a ton of weight back.  The negative self-dislike (hate) for my body is off the charts.

I learned from this experience it was better to stuff those things that got me to 330 lbs.  My current battle with my self esteem is as raw and broken as it ever has been.  There, I said it...broken!  You can say distorted or whatever you wish. 

Telling myself:  The truth is: you are sexy.
By: WelcomeToMyBrain.net ....is really stinking hard.  It is all I can do to be present and accepting of my body during a massage let alone feel sexy or anything else.  I dont' look at myself in the mirror other than to blow my hair dry. Having sex repulses me on so many different levels (some abuse related and some pure self hate for my own body).  I can't tell you the last time I looked at my butt.  Dear Lord, taking a picture of my butt...just thinking about it makes me physically ill. 

I've rambled. I know that this post is all over the place.  The moral of the story (remember this is for me) is:  Trauma sucks, abuse sucks, I know first hand how loosing weight will not change the the disorted (broken), stinking thinking.  OI!  Do I ever. 

I also know...it is high time that the issues need to be addressed.  I've attempted to change my thoughts around Christine's theme of Sexuary.  My dh and I've had several conversations over the last few weeks on this very topic.  And it all comes back to the core issues at hand.

It's Going to Be Alright

Several months ago, one of my sweet soul sisters posted this on my FB page or her blog post. I can't remember.  Regardless, it spoke volumes to my heart on a day that I really needed it.

It has been several months since I've heard or even thought about this song.

I woke up in a deep sweat and rather panicky in the night.  Frustrated, crying, and just plain upset with thoughts of..."here it is my flippen day off...the ONE day I can sleep past 3:45am...and I have to wake up from a horrible nightmare."  As I laid there fighting back the tears and praying that I could just go back to sleep...I remembered the words to this song.

It's going to be alright!

I don't know when.
I don't know where.
I don't know how.

But....it will be. Somehow, I will get past this dark place that I've been in. 
Yesterday was a better day.  Almost like I had a high and couldn't seem to get past that.   And here it is nearing 4:30am and I'm struggling with not getting in my car and driving off.  I don't know where I would drive to so I will just stay home.  And try to remember...."It's Going to Be Alright".

Shocked

Yesterday morning my while waiting for the cardiology team to come and get my husband we were watching tv.  We never watch TV during the day. I have no clue what is even on. I'm set in the very few shows that I do like.

The V.iew was on at the moment.  They were discussing the P.enn S.tate tragedy (it truly is a tragedy) and the latest on this case.  I've watched and/or listened to very little of what is going on. 
I dont' watch local news unless I know there will be something on that I want to see.  I don't want or need to hear the negative crap that comes along with the news.  Occasionally, they will be running a segment and I will be sure to watch it.  For the most part; it isn't ever watched in our home.

The V.iew gave light, opinions, and showed the latested interview.  I was shocked beyond belief how incredible angry it made me.  I'm certain the patients on both sides of my hubands hospital room heard me yell at the tv during one the interview w/this monster.  My husband turned the channel. I made him turn it back.  He was more shocked than I imagined.  Telling me "*** you need to not watch this. Obviously, it is trigger you in a way that is not healthy.  Watch something else."

My dh turned to me and said "We are not watching this and I'm turning this TV off." 

And that was the end of that.

I'm shocked that my dh stood up to me in that manner.
I'm shocked that I got as upset as I did. I will often get upset with stuff like this; it hits a very deep and painful spot.  However, 99% of the time....it is hidden. 

Yesterday....it was not.