awareness · challenge · resilient

Your Crazy’s Showing (part 2)

The search continued. It had to. Can’t ALL be so unaware, so aloof, disinterested, re-victimizing…could they? Even if you suck at what you do you STILL have experience. They said they had experience with childhood trauma. Hmmm. With limited awareness and clarity with your own process, how can we expect you to properly assist another person on their healing path? Having been exposed to these well meaners compounded my lack of faith in humanatee. A big fat sea-cow in an ocean of disdain. 

Confirming my, “I am irreparable” notion, all due to people not doing their “work”. My expression of graphic truth touching their darkness resulting in their shut down, perilalysis, or disASSociation. Say, for instance you’re in a restaurant. The person next to you clutches their chest in pain, maybe a heart attack. You want to help but as you rise from your chair YOUR chest also begins to hurt, you go into a full-blown panic attack, rendering you useless to the other person. -A simplistic depiction of countertransference. Trauma triggering trauma. Emotional entanglement/meshing/merging/fusing with the client, which negatively impacts a therapist’s ability to lead. 

Enter Paul, my next psychoterrorist. A charming Victorian third floor office. Beautifully decorated. He came highly recommended with much experience in the area of abuse and women’s issues. Finally! This would be IT.  Fingers and toes crossed. Paul, a bald, middle-aged and deeply baritone voiced gentleman, welcomed me, with open harms, to his practice. We began. Small talk. About where I’d been. And his experience with clients of my gripe. Lol. Nice enough.

Writing feverishly…enter the million dollar question.What brings you here… I got into it, hard. Haven’t I wasted enough time with the other do-gooders? He began smiling, like I was telling him a joke and he was anticipating the punchline. He added some “yes, go on” and “oh, really?” scripts every client expected from a paid listener. “Tell me more” and “Tell me again” with what sma-hack-ed of enjoyment and entertainment on his creased face. Like I had just delivered some juicy gossip. “That is fascinating” and “Are you sure this happened”? Actually escaped from his jagged smile. Any minute now, I expectorated him to pop up and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. His affect clearly needed a tune up. 

Shifting in his comfy seat, I got a peak of his legal pad – he had drawn a CAT!! Silly me, I thought I was saying something worthy of recording. Thought he might be taking notes. I felt completely deflated, invisible and devalued. If THAT wasn’t rea-dick-a-less enough …nearing the end of the session, I offered some disgustingly graphic trauma piece as a last bitch effort to get some authentic reaction. (Which I am incredibly good at – thanks Mom). For what seemed like a minute, his mouth dropped down and gaped open, eyes wide. His body, except for his neck, froze. He slowly turned his mannequin head to the right and stared out the window for a very uncomfortable miNUT. So, remember the THIRD FLOOR thing? Nothing out there except sky, lots of sky guy. I actually got up and looked too, his stare was that intense. Dude, there’s nothing out the window, nothing. He sat, lifeless, no blinking, no swallowing. Nothing. And just like that, he returned from his long strange flip. T-why-light groan. Holy weirdness. Another disaster. 

So this tiny little blurb about a Sexual Abuse Support Group caught my I. Beyond excited. All women in the group. Perfect. Group of 5. Harold introduced me to the group and all of the women shared a blurb. Very lovely women. I was the youngest member. All very charmed by Harold, giggling when he spoke. A dandy guy. Harold offered his  background. He expressed his special brand of wisdumb, “After all, men are idiots. We should cut off all their penises and ship them to a deserted island”. God’s honest truth! His exact words. Later that night, Harold offered more creep… “Yeah, you know, I touched my sister and it wasn’t a big deal, so there’s nothing wrong with that” AYFKM? He looked around nervously to see how he was being received. Eyes bouncing from one participant to the hexed. Harold, poised on the edge of nervous laughter and arrested exhale. He excused himself, apparent worry broke out amongst the group mates. Come to think of it, Harold excused himself at least 5 times during the 2 hour group – just adding to an already bizarre situation. 

In his absence, I questioned the other women, asking how long they’d been a member. The responses were between 2 years and 7 years. What?  After that night, I never returned. But Harold wasn’t done tryin to work me into his gig, his magic act. He wouldn’t let go. He sent me a letter, “You need this group, this will help you. You really need to return for support”. THIS is straight up cray-cray. Of course, no response from me. Another month went by and he sent me another postcard, reminding me of the group ”you should be here” Now I was pissed. I wrote him back. “How dare you try and take advantage of the most tender, most vulnerable population by insinuating that I could not make it without you” “You call yourself a therapist? You are basically pushing your agenda onto me and scolding me for not complying” “That’s abusive” “I put a boundary and you are not honoring that”. I should have reported him but I would have been cast as just another crazy patient. 

The final crazy encounter, with a physician, occurred when I was seen for a panic attack visit in 2000. I was new to the panic world and, just like everyone else, was convinced that it was something else. Anxiety couldn’t possibly make me feel like I was gunna die…. So this well-meaning, lovely Indian Physician listened to me as I talked about my long history of anxiety stemming from a dark childhood. When I told her about my abusers, her “helpful advice” was the following. “Why didn’t you punch them? or tell them that you didn’t want that to happen to you? You have to tell them” 

Ok Dr., like it’s as easy as telling them to hold the onions on your burger at McDonald’s. Excuse me, yeah, no onions please, ok, thank-you. I so desperately wanted to live in her world where all you have to do is tell someone to stop and they do. Wow, whammo, why didn’t I think of that. Holy mind fuck. Blame the abused. Thanks a bunch. LOL

Kinda hard when your abuse began when you were pre-verbal. Maybe you were older and when you said no, it was the same as yes. I don’t really think a 2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, 10-year-old girl is any strength match to male teens and adults, hmmm, you? What a bizarre suggestion (punch them). Most likely our first abusers are family members or friends of the family or someone entrusted with our care. We rely on them for safety, a roof, food in our bellies and love. When you are reared to believe your privates/body belongs to others – where does the protest fit in there? The trickery, convincing and games fuck a child’s mind. 

Is it the responsibility of a child to keep her/him self safe? That’s an awful lot of burden to shoulder. A tiny little girl. A Dr. offering “help” sprinkled with the nasty energy of blame– I  should have done something, I should have stopped it, I should have protected myself and ultimately, I could have done something but I didn’t ………………. Today I would tell her that she’s got a lot of clean up to do on herself. Her nasty is showing. And that my little girl knows I’ll protect her. 

Let’s do our inner work DO THE INNER WORK. So we all can be there for each other. Without our fear or anger or frustration or judgement coming at the person and overshadowing our HELP we intend to give. So we may hold each other/clients/patients in the way they truly deserve – in love, compassion and understanding. If nothing else, at the very least, validate how hard it must have been for that person to grow up in that atmosphere. So very powerful. Validate, listen. 

Maybe some of this…”Wow, I’m so sorry. That must have been really hard for you. You must be so sad. What can I do to help you? You are so strong. You are doing amazing seeing all you’ve been through. Do you have someone to talk to/confide in? Would you like me to refer you to someone who knows more about this? You must have been so scared. Do you feel safe now?”

pain

Sensitivity Training

Coming off the heels of my first migraine ever. I feel alive, new, refreshed. Eyes clear, feeling a little drunk still. I really have nothing to complain about. I did vomit 4 times yesterday, once at work but I’m fine now. I never had a serious migraine in my life. Serious. So this was a complete surprise. They say there are warnings you may get in the days before it happens. I am beginning to put the pieces together.

2 days before the pain arrived I was in the bath. My hearing was incredibly obvious. I could hear my body gurgling and could “hear” myself move as if each muscle and ligament had a tone. Still in the bathtub, my hearing, in the quiet still of my home, was deafening. A silence so loud that I am sure I’d lose my mind had it continued. At first I was intrigued but this quickly moved to TERRIFIED. What if I had lost the ability to hear? Felt like noise in the absence of noise. Surely that makes sense to …no one. LOL I was fine. Strange but fine.

I had forgotten all about this strange event until today. Sensory experiences like this, turns out, are to be expected prior to and following a migraine. I am sure there are prob more odd things but everyday weird shit happens to me LOL consequently, my weird meter is a little squirrely. Ok, way out of whack but no worries, it’s not contagious.

Today I feel very sensitive. I’m noticing the rawness of life. Feeling the pure love from my cats, the look of peace and gratitude in their eyes, makes me tear up. A bird chirping, wind blowing leaves around, sitting in my warm sunroom with the golden warmth on my back as I sit here and transcribe my thoughts onto this device – all good, all welcome, all enriching my earthly experience. I thank the pain. It’s self love message, received. Purposeful. Within my darkest, pain-ridden moments and even as I reflect on my most physically trying times, there is a depth and richness that enhances who I am, amidst the strife.

Today I am aware and awake. Today I notice the fragility of life. The miracle of a healthy body. The brilliance in letting go of control. The beauty in knowing we are not in control. The ease at which a simple word can touch my heart. The realization that I am enough. The knowing that I don’t have to “get rid” of pain. Pain has a purpose. Pain has a voice. When we allow pain to speak, it’s training emerges. Ask pain what it wants. Ask it why it’s here.

When I inquire within, sometimes emotion comes in the form of inconsolable tears. Sometimes rage. Pain has a way of delivering previously denied packages to the front steps of your mind. Sign for that shit. Maybe we just sign for it and make a space in the corner or in the closet or in the basement. It’s a start. It can be terrifying to see what that package holds. There may be many packages. Take it slow. Unpack at your leisure. Or let the packages gather dust.

Ask for help, call in an image of unconditional love and safety to be with you as you soften into your pain. Although I do not search for physical pain – I expect it to surface when it’s time for me to look at the deep shit I’ve been running from. This is how we remain as healthy as we can. Taking the cues from our bodies. Listening. When we absolutely cannot deal with physical pain and just want it to go away, notice and acknowledge that it is trying to get your attention. I say something like, thank-you for showing up, I will try my best to listen, please go slow with me. I am trying my best. We’re all just trying our best.

Thus, the title of this blog – Sensitivity Training. We’re all in training. Right now. Tomorrow. Next week, Next year. Training to sensitize our beings to the messages of these bodies we live in. This is how our physicality talks to us. It is no accident that pain shows up in one part of our body or another. There are many resources today which give us some plausible information regarding the spiritual meaning behind physical ailments. That’s exactly what I google: Spiritual meaning behind ____________. Or use your intuition and listen to the “why” it’s happening.

I know, pain sucks. Know what sucks more? not listening to pain’s message – In most cases, PAIN holds the remedy to issues we never knew we had or thought we had succeeded in moving past. HELLO MY DARLING PAIN.