Category: therapeutic thursdays

Therapeutic Thursday: interesting dreams and ruminations on my brain

Posted on by Grayson

I have been having some weird ass dreams lately.

Some dreams involve awful people in my family realizing the enormity of what they’ve done and admitting fault (AHAHAHAHA) and then offing themselves. It’s weird because in my dreams I never see the bodies despite being near the scene but I know what they’ve done in order to kill themselves without being told.

I think my mind is trying to protect me. I kind of wish it wouldn’t though. I get so angry sometimes and it might be therapeutic. I dunno.

Other dreams involve some members of my extended family randomly showing up to throw a party for me, which makes no sense especially with some of them who show up. The people I remember most at the party are the people I do NOT want to see because of how shitty they treated me when I was a child. (If you’re in my extended family and we haven’t talked in like three or four years even on social media? It may include you. #sorrynotsorry.) I was able to stand up (literally) and say I don’t want you here, pushing these people away. I also called people on their shit when they tried to act holier than thou.

Everyone has stinky, stinky shit. Enough.

I don’t like super unplanned interactions especially on that level (my extended family is HUGE) or involving the crappy people. Now that I’m an adult and am learning I have a say in things, I know I don’t have to be around them. It’s so nice.

At the same time, I feel bad. Most of those who treated me poorly likely didn’t realize or notice that there was abuse… and yet, shaming a child for being sick around a holiday or some of these other things aren’t necessarily things you’d need to know about the abuse to not do.

There are well-meaning people who want me to heal the wounds and start speaking to everyone again. I do so very much understand that notion. To me, though, that’s living a lie and I can’t do it. I can’t pretend all of this hurt isn’t here.

Some others in the family are so on board with what I’m saying. There are even people I knew in middle and high school – friends, acquaintances, etc – who have messaged me saying that they knew my immediate family was some kind of weird but not that there was abuse and that they’re sorry they never helped out. A lot of people have stopped talking to certain people in my family completely or at least scaled back the communication.

I never started telling my story to get others on board with what I’m doing. I simply needed to get it out and down on some sort of record so that when I doubt myself I can read the belt story and remember why I’m doing this.

I can accurately say that anyone who has altered relationships based on my story is doing so because they have the truth and not because I’m berating anyone.

I would be lying if I said it wasn’t an awesome feeling to know that others saw or see it now too. Validation does amazing things for those in recovery.

On top of those amazing people in my family, I am blessed to have friends who are crazy supportive. It’s so interesting to me how many other chronically ill people have been in similar relationships with their parents as I have had with my mother and grandmother. That is another validation for me.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t need validation. For the last year, I didn’t have very much because I was more quiet about all of this. It doesn’t mean it’s unhelpful or that affirmation is wrong. Sometimes, honestly, it brings with it something that I need to hear, whether that means knowing I’m not alone or that other people care or that I’m not the insane one.

I think the fact that I’m dreaming about these kinds of things instead of flashbacks means that I’m making progress.

This taking risks thing is actually pretty cool. Maybe my brain is rewarding me for it with these dreams, showing me that I can handle these things.

Therapeutic Thursday: fight song

Posted on by Grayson

Monday morning I woke up to T watching music videos on VH1, mostly because I couldn’t sleep through the night and wound up on the couch.

I hate my shoulder.
That’s kind of become our morning though – watching music videos to prep for the day… well, that or I Love Lucy/Golden Girls. Either way.
We were watching videos and this Rachel girl came on to discuss her video about proving something to herself by writing this song. I didn’t pay enough attention to really hear. T mentioned that it sounded like a ‘me’ song. The video finally really started and he was SO right.
I’ve become addicted. My plan is to learn the chords well enough on short notice to play them at my upcoming concerts.
Listen to it once through. Then play it again and really listen to the words.
Here’s my poor over-simplification: The significance of one person uttering one small word and setting themselves free cannot be over expressed. I’m one person, but I can make a difference. I’m fine the way I am, no matter what anyone else thinks. People may worry but I know I’m on the right path. No matter what, I’ll fight to the end because I’m a bad ass.
Like how cool is that? It was a great way to start off a day with a meeting I was a little worried about. And guess what? I ROCKED it.

Therapeutic Thursday: flashback central

Posted on by Grayson

Lately I’ve been dealing with flashbacks from growing up.

Last week I actually broke down hard and just lost it. I remembered the physical violence I endured as a very small child. Then I remembered that I felt relieved when Kelsey became the one to fill that role. I didn’t do much to protect her. Yes, I was a small child and couldn’t do much anyway, but part of me was happy that I wasn’t that person anymore. I even blamed her for some things – a common sibling thing to do I know… but it led to her getting hurt.

And I just lost it.

T did a really good job of helping me talk through what I could, holding me while I cried, and reminding me that both Kelsey and I are safe now. He told me that it wasn’t my fault, that I did what I could when I could.

I know he’s right. It brings back a feeling of helplessness though to know I couldn’t do much though.

A few days later, I had another flashback situation while at work. I was grateful it was one of the days that my officemate was gone. I was able to speak with Dawn who runs #spooniechat about what I was going through and she helped me deal.

The AI conference came at a perfect time.

I needed that togetherness, that group of people who know what you’ve been through and don’t see you as lesser for it. The amazing people I met there – whether for the first time or finally in person – helped me to deal with my feelings of inadequacy more than they will know.

Something that helped me immensely was being in a place where I could just let go of the tensions. I was able to drop everything and just exist for the first time in a long, long time. There were no sessions on healing from abuse, nothing specifically geared towards me in that regard, but the letting go of expectations was so fantastic. People offered to let me sleep in their rooms if I was too tired or gave me Biofreeze to help me deal.

I’ve tried to carry that feeling throughout this week. If plans change, I’m not going to get annoyed or mad. If issues pop up, we’ll handle them. If I’m uncomfortable, I’ll switch things up so I get comfortable.

That’s come in handy with regards to these flashbacks.

They’re SO real. I know that I’m not there, but my body doesn’t. It reacts the way it did in the moment – sweating, heavy labored breathing, shaking with fear, etc. It gets really hard to shake that feeling, especially when you can’t get your mind out of it. I often have to resort to watching something like Bob’s Burgers to quell that feeling.

I’m all for that, but flashbacks don’t always happen when you can stop and watch these things or take silly quizzes.

So that’s where these other experiences will come in handy. Recalling T’s voice telling me that it’s okay and that I’m safe helps. Knowing that my sister is away from crazy people helps. Knowing that my niblings won’t grow up how we grew up helps.

It’s still hard. It’s still going to be something that I have to deal with my entire life. I won’t pretend that it doesn’t affect me anymore, but I will work to move past it, to stop giving those who abused me the ability to fuck up my life.

If you’re dealing with similar issues, come listen to my fighting back playlist. Some of it is to remind me that I’m awesome and alive, but a lot of it is there to help me express anger when I need to.

Therapeutic Thursday: how fighting for my health turned into fighting for myself

Posted on by Grayson

My senior year of college was awesome. I loved living with my coolest friend Katy, having impromptu dance parties with ice cream and watching copious amount of Law and Order on energy drinks while writing our capstones.

She’s seriously helped me so much in the last few years. Seriously, she’s the Bey to my Nicki (or vice versa?).

My SJIA started acting up more during our senior year, no doubt in part due to the stress we were under. The campus clinic gals told me that I knew my body better than they did and that they couldn’t help me, unless of course I knew exactly what I needed (eg, the times I needed crutches).

Fade in to me crying in our very pink bathtub.

After being told to lie to my college for the first little while about insurance, I finally had bought my own for my senior year. Due to cash issues, I couldn’t really do much until after I got my tax return so I dealt with a crappy body (and nasty ass bronchitis) on my own until I was able to set up an appointment to get a referral to a rheumatologist in Milwaukee.

The rheumatologist was great – so great that after I moved to Madison, I kept seeing her for a while until I really needed to find someone closer. She respected that I didn’t want to start meds right away. After I got back from my May trip back to Oregon with T, I realized I couldn’t live like this before.

She got the paperwork for a handicapped parking placard to me, which is really how I was able to go to grad school as long as I did.

A month later, I contacted her to start Plaquenil.

Then a month after that, I had a horrible flare combined with an allergic reaction. I couldn’t sleep on my broken futon anyway – trying to do so like this was torture. I was so itchy that I couldn’t see straight.

I headed to the UW campus docs, and they made it clear that this was really serious.

I mean, I knew it, but a doc saying that? It was really scary.

Once I started seeing a local rheumatologist, I thought things would get better.

They didn’t.

I was on prednisone for the first time ever and wanting to eat everything. He started me on other meds. I complained of nerve pains and he suspected I had fibromyalgia but never said a thing to me.

That’s right – I went even longer than I should have had to in order to get treatment for one of the most painful illnesses out there. He also wouldn’t help me with my pain levels at all.

Way to go doc.

Did I mention that he’s written a book on integrative rheumatology? It’s kind of frightening.

I saw him because he was close to my grad school. It made it easy to duck out of class or sneak in late after an appointment. I quickly realized that convenience wasn’t worth the lack of care when he canceled an appointment two days before due to a last minute conference. The office didn’t care that as a graduate student working several jobs I had to take that day off. They didn’t care that I was losing money.

For the first time, I really had to fight to get my own care.

You know, if by party I mean move.

I researched rheumys in the area and found the highest rated, called their offices, and got an appointment four months out with them… which is about how long I would’ve had to wait for another appointment with my doc anyway.

In the meantime, I was seeing the on-campus docs for my primary care. The doc I had listed was very nice, but didn’t know what she was doing in regards to me and made that clear. She even told me to find a different provider outside of the campus clinic so that I could get the best care.

No one talked to me about insurance. So that was a fun giant ass bill to get in the mail.

Growing up the way that I did meant that I had to do this all on my own.  No one in my family regularly saw a doctor or knew how to navigate the system well themselves. That made it really hard. Here I am trying to study, trying to make something of myself, and I ended up working more to pay for those bills (or trying to anyway) than I was studying.

As I got sicker and sicker, it became apparent that working and going to school at the same time wasn’t going to happen… and I couldn’t quit my job…. so school had to go. It was just as well, because my mobility went crazy downhill on top of the ridiculous snow we got.

My mother, who hardly talked to me and was never around me, accused me of being an alcoholic for having one drink in the evening after a rough day while I was on the phone with her. It didn’t matter that I had bought a case of 30 Mike’s hard lemonades on sale two months prior and had had maybe three up until that point. It didn’t matter that I was depressed and in pain and upset about the grad school issue. She just kept ragging on me until I said I needed to go.

Months went on and the only thing that got better was the weather. One night I thought about crashing the car into a pole at an intersection near work. I thought that it would finally get someone to look at how much pain I was in and treat it – or the impact would kill me and the pain wouldn’t be an issue.

I wound up with C. diff after getting a tooth pulled. My primary care didn’t want to help with the pain.

I had started therapy, talking to some random dude without really getting any help at all aside from the validation that my mother was indeed the problem and not myself. I thought it couldn’t get any worse.

Laura passed away while I was in therapy.

The pain I had mentally and physically just increased in ways I couldn’t imagine.

I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I cried more often than not. I often couldn’t work because the fibro pain was so bad I couldn’t stand the sensation of clothing. I had lost everything I was working towards with school and was now in debt both from school and from medical bills. My mother didn’t give two shits about my mental state, other than the alcoholic bit and telling me to apply for disability and just give up.

I was horribly depressing and couldn’t take it anymore.

But I was planning my wedding and driving down whenever I could to spend time with my sister and her baby girl. I decided that I had to be proactive, if not for me then for T, Kels, and Missy Moo.

I realized that the big difference between pediatric and adult care is that the doctors don’t really care. I mean, they do to the extent that they want you to be well, but most of them don’t ask about things outside of your treatment or diagnosis or how certain ideas on treatment will fit into your life, etc. Many of them don’t put two and two together, and you’re always expected to hold up the rear.

I had finally asked my rheumy’s nurse practitioner to look at the symptoms I’d been reporting while seeing them. I told her I was afraid that it was MS and that I didn’t want to go out like my great grandma. I broke down.

She looked at everything I had said, ordered labs and a sleep test, and told me I likely had fibromyalgia. As she went over more of the symptoms, it became readily apparent that I had at least parts of this for much of my life.

This happened before Laura’s death. It took so long to find the right medication and dosage that it carried on for a while after that.

Since all of this, I’ve had to fight for changes in medication and care multiple times.

When it came time to deal with my issues with my mother, that fighting spirit really really helped.

For me to fight for myself took some drastic measures. Dealing with these illnesses and the abuse I did growing up, I had shitty ass self-esteem. I had to start learning that I was worth fighting for, that I matter.

That’s still a journey I’m on, especially in starting to finally face the abuse I’ve been through.

It’s really hard, especially when it’s people who are supposed to love you unconditionally and protect you.

But facing my mother, dealing with the abuse… It’s all led me to something that I’ve faked in the past but never had – self-worth and confidence. I’m beginning to love myself, to catch myself in the mirror and realize how beautiful I am inside and out. I realize the things I do to help others, at work and on my own time. Some of those people are strangers, friends I haven’t met face to face, or close friends from long ago.

 

It’s honestly a really weird feeling, but I know now that I can’t really be a good advocate without self-love. I always tell others to take care of themselves or fight for the best care when I don’t do that for myself. I can’t be a hypocrite like that anymore.
Even more than that, I look at the things that I’ve made it through, what I’ve survived, and I’m starting to really like myself as a person. I’ve been through that and had rough times dealing with things but never let it make me bitter. Am I expressive of my emotions? Definitely. I have to get them out.
I didn’t last night and I wound up with painsomnia and my joints all plotting my murder.
Needless to say, I used my free coffee on my Starbucks card this morning.
And I’ve realized that things like that are okay to do. Self-care is important, not only because you can’t help others without helping yourself but also because YOU matter.

Now I try to practice at least one self-care thing every day. Sometimes it’s a big coffee. Other times it’s getting a cute bag. Often it’s allowing myself to be happy even though the world isn’t perfect. Spending time with my guinea pigs and my hubby is my favorite.

Watching The Simpsons is generally involved too. Gus has learned that it’s pretty funny.

One of the things I’ve had to learn is when to fight, and that isn’t always easy when you don’t have super great social skills. I have to really start working through my abuse and all these things before I can really have what I want – full peace.

It doesn’t always look the same to everyone, but for me it looks like having a relationship with my dad & his family – one that includes Kelsey, helping my sister and those niblings to live an amazing life, spending time with my little family of piggies and T, getting a house eventually, finding a job where my hobbies like blogging and health activism take center stage, being able to travel and visit my amazing spoonie friends, and maybe having a kiddo or two.

I wouldn’t mind living in California either.

Y’all need to get some more rain though. Eep.

Whatever you’ve been through, just remember that you are worth the effort it takes to really love and care for yourself. You wouldn’t keep driving your car with the engine light on for years without getting it checked out and fixed would you?

Therapeutic Thursday: life changing tips and thoughts

Posted on by Grayson

Sometimes we initiate change and sometimes change decides to pop in. The beauty is it really doesn’t matter how the change in your life occurred, but more how you handle it… because everything changes.

For some, it takes a major illness to make changes for the better.

Others find out ways to change their lives to work towards their dreams. Do you ever wonder what it would look like if you did that? We may not know for sure the path we choose is the right one. We may not feel we’re worthy of the change. We may not be able to make our changes full time. If we embrace our fears, we can make it through – especially if we live with more intention.

If you’ve made changes, maybe you’re feeling stuck or ready to quit. Just remember that you can do this. You may have to stop expecting so much of others, which I know is SO hard. You may need to keep your assumptions in check.

Embrace the tough times.

Let go of the healthy things other seem to require.

Take some time to nurture yourself, to take time to do nothing, and remember that this is your life.

What changes are you having a hard time with?

Therapeutic Thursday: physical edition

Posted on by Grayson

I haven’t done my Cimzia shot since… um… like the beginning of March? Maybe earlier?

Yeah…

Part of it is that I had bronchitis and had to skip a shot for that, and then I was out of the state for Sam’s surgery and my shot was not even close to the top of my priority list.

The other side is that, of course, it’s not working well anyway.

It’s hard to admit, but there it is. I end up with side effects for 3-7 days, have an okay week, and then just have to inject again. It’s counterproductive to have a shot that causes more problems than it solves – and this hasn’t done well at all for reducing my inflammation.

I had labs when I got back from Cali that showed an increase in my CRP and my sed rate – even from when I had bronchitis. Clearly, even though I feel well right now, I need to have a medication.

One of the reasons I switched to this rheumy in the first place was because my old rheumy’s office would not consider the SJIA/Still’s specific medications like Actemra or Kineret for me. It was frustrating to know that there were medications out there that would likely help me more and they instead put me on a third TNF drug, which is not very common. They generally move on to another class once two of a certain class of drug has failed to work for you.

The rheumy asked, via MyChart, if Kineret would be something I’d be willing to do. I sent back a short list of meds, and she sent back more info on Kineret. It sounds like that will likely be my next step.

The thought of going from bi-weekly shots that I dreaded to daily shots doesn’t quite have me enthused… but in comparing the drugs I suggested, this one does look as though it will be the best for me for what I need right now.

So today, I get to meet with my rheumy to discuss… and then have a meeting with my therapist right after to prevent the mental breakdown that almost always seems to accompany a change in medications.

It’s a good change, but it’s another point where it feels like I’m a failure. I know logically that the medication has failed me, but lingo always points to the patient failing the drug.

Cimzia was never going to get me to remission. It helped mildly for a short time, but wasn’t in it for the long haul, and that’s okay. Kineret could be, for me, a shot at remission. I’m willing to deal with the risks, to put up with mild injection site reactions and daily shots, for the chance at a more normal life.

 

Therapy Thursday: piggie therapy!

Posted on by Grayson

My guinea pigs are amazing little guys. They’re resourceful, adorable, and both good at hiding and exploring depending on the situation.

One of my favorite things about them, though, is how helpful they are when I feel crummy.

Okay, so maybe they don’t come scurrying along with their medical kits, but still.

Gus is piggie hell on wheels, but that’s why I love him. He’s silly and loves to explore. He tries to move our couch on his own, even though he’s tried it approximately two million times with no positive result. He loves to play and snuggle with me. Gus is warming up to T, but this little guy is my baby no doubt. He knows it too!

Jaq is my sweetheart. He was the shyest animal I’ve ever met when we got him. He still has his timid moments, but he loves to be held as long as he’s comfortable. He loves to give me kisses and cheer me up when I’m sad. Jaq will explore to a certain degree – when it means finding good spots to hide in a corner.

Oreo is so interesting. He’s a year older than the other boys, but never was held much by his previous owners due to allergies. Still, he’s very interactive. He knows his name very well, coos when you say hi to him using his name, and will follow you around the cage – even running to the side of the cage near the front door when you get home.

All three of these piggies have such different personalities, but I think that’s why I love each of them so much. Jaq and Oreo room together, with Gus nearby, because Gus is a fighter – but not a good one! He always gets his fur bitten and loses fights he picks.

If I want to be silly, I bring Gus out and we crawl around on the floor or on my bed. He squeaks while he explores and it is SO adorable. Sometimes we watch sports.

If I’m sad and I need loves, I pick up Jaq. Sometimes that means picking up his bungalow instead of just him, but he likes that. I’ll give him treats and snuggles, and he give me loves. Sometimes I think he had it hard with the other piggies. When we got them, Gus was very dominant and so Jaq didn’t stand up for himself. Now that’s changing and I can’t help but think he mirrors me a lot.

I’m still figuring Oreo out, and that’s okay. He and I are a work in progress, but that makes it good. Oreo is very vocal about when he’s done being out and chitters to let you know it. He doesn’t bite – not even test bites like the others sometimes do. He also doesn’t like all the food the boys do, so I’m working on getting him to try new things. Sunday he found out blueberries are pretty delicious!

Other than sports buddies, what do these three rascals bring me?

They are my best friends and they love me unconditionally. They miss me whether I’ve been gone for days or hours. They snuggle and kiss and play with me to cheer me up – and they can definitely tell when I need it. They’re honestly my babies, and I couldn’t be more grateful for everything they do for me.

Do you have a pet or pets that help you out? Tell us about them!

Therapeutic Thursday: the importance of sharing your truth

Posted on by Grayson

It can be really hard to stick to your guns when others act like you’re in the wrong on something. It’s even harder when that something has to do with your personal well being.

If you’re anything like me, you see standing up for yourself in some aspects as not worth the confrontation or conflict that may come along. You’ve been conditioned, whether through people or other influences in your life, to see yourself as unworthy, little, and puny. Sure, everyone has days like that. For some of us, that’s what makes up the bulk of our thoughts.

The biggest problem with growing up in a home or being in any position where you’re conditioned to think like this is that it affects every aspect of your life. It will make you think your bronchitis is just a cold – that you’re upplaying the affects of any illness or just unworthy of getting treatment – and that you don’t need to seek medical help. You don’t go for promotions or better jobs because you ‘just know’ you won’t get them. It affects your confidence to the point that if, by some miracle you did apply for a job, you wouldn’t get past the interview stage because you become a nervous and anxious wreck. Your personal relationships suck because you either have no friends or you have ‘friends’ who walk all over you and make you feel worse about yourself.

It’s almost as if every user can sense you’re a good usee.

On top of that, you get to deal with that little voice in the back of your head that reminds you how not good enough to accomplish things you are. Oftentimes, that voice is the voice of the bully or abuser or oppressor that you’ve dealt with.

A good way to combat these feelings is to be assertive and to speak your truth.

I know that speaking your truth sounds silly, but that’s exactly what it is – your truth. Just because your abuser didn’t see what she did as abuse doesn’t mean it isn’t. If you felt abused, that is your truth. No one has the right to tell a victim whether or not they were victimized.

These issues will just keep popping up until you get help and work on sharing what you’ve gone through. Not everyone is as into sharing as I am, but I believe that it really does help the healing process along for others to hear and know about why you’re triggered by the smell of beer or why people yelling at others bothers you.

Sharing can be a really hard step for a few reasons – the biggest perhaps is that sharing makes what you’ve gone through real. I began to talk with other abuse survivors and the things and stories we had in common were frightening honestly. It became more real to me.

Right now I am dealing with the realest feelings from the abuses I’ve suffered. I’m dealing with flashbacks that I have a really hard time getting out of. I’m dealing with pent up anger at remembering more and more things that happened as I was growing up. All this is happening because I’m sharing more in my relationships and in therapy. But it also means I’m working through these issues.

I am solid in the knowledge that I suffered through things a child shouldn’t even have to think about let alone endure or witness. I know for a fact that the adults in the home where I grew up have some serious personality and mental health issues that need to be addressed but likely never will. I am dealing with the fact that my family was not dysfunctional but abusive and that it stunted my emotional growth horribly.

I own everything that I am, including what has happened to me. In order to embrace myself – faults and all – I must embrace the scared little girl that still resides inside of me. I have to help her find her voice.

My mother can’t seem to keep herself out of my life. She continues to read what I’m doing here on this blog and trying to creep on me via multiple social media sites. My sister has been asked to rein me in to stop me from talking about what I’ve gone through.

I’m not a little girl anymore. I can’t be scared by comments that my sister will be taken away and my mother put in jail if I talk about the abuse or what happened in our home. I won’t be frightened into silence anymore.

And if you don’t like what I have to say, I have only one thing to say to you:

Your opinion doesn’t matter anyway.

Therapeutic Thursdays: music as therapy

Posted on by Grayson

Music plays a huge role in my life.

When I was very little, I loved our piano. I sang non-stop until I was snapped at so badly by several adults that I stopped singing and became very self-conscious about it, as did my sister. I taught myself to play the piano and immersed myself in that instead, singing quietly.

Music has always been an escape for me, even now. I loved throwing on my headphones and dancing or brooding, depending on my age. As I’ve gotten older, teaching myself to play the ukulele has been one of the best things I’ve ever done. I love to play around with songs you don’t normally associate with the uke, like Nirvana, Foo Fighters, and hip-hop. (wanna check out some of my music? vids are here and music is here)

Growing to where I am okay with others hearing me sing or even play music has taken a long time. I used to not sing in front of T even, and that’s only changed in the last 2 years. Last year I even played in front of complete strangers! It was scary, but also very worth it. I’ve already got a concert set up for this year!

My journey with music has been very healing. Getting the confidence to play in front of people was scary, but it also pales in comparison to some of the other things I did last year.

I’ve made a few playlists on Spotify that I LOVE. The biggest though is my Spoonie Fighter playlist (also the reading music to the right of this post!). It not only has songs to match the moods we may go through, but also has uplifting songs to try to get us moving or to cheer us up.

I also have a playlist I’ve lovingly named ‘Bad Bitch‘ because it makes me feel empowered. It’s my feminist bad ass playlist – the one I listen to on my way to appointments, to work, and to big meetings. In short, it’s 75% Beyonce and Nicki Minaj because they’re both amazing feminist icons. It also helps me get my white girl rapping on.

I actually made this! Artsy me!

I also enjoy watching some of my favorite artists cover other songs.

What are some of your favorite songs? Do you have a playlist to pump you up on a bad day?

Therapeutic Thursdays: PTSD & me

Posted on by Grayson

On Tuesday, my therapist and I decided to step up my appointments from every other week to every week because I have a new diagnosis: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

The biggest factor is of course the home in which I was raised. I witnessed, was exposed to, and endured some very difficult things. Some of the things I shared with the therapist this week were things that no one has details on. It felt good to get those things out, for someone else to share that burden.

For most people, finding out they have a mental illness that affects 1 in 3 troops returning from the field might be too much. I mean, how can my childhood compare to war?

It’s true that PTSD doesn’t just affect those who’ve been in war or similar combat, and I know that, but still. I downplay so much of what I’m dealing with in my every day life. I use this blog and my social media to express myself in ways I’ve found very hard to do so in person. Part of that is my mental illness issues and part of that has to do with boundaries and lack of social interactions during key ages.

In reading more about PTSD, a lot of things in my life started to make more sense – my hypervigilance, trust issues, sleep issues, detachment, random flashbacks… Even the issues I’ve had with anger, expressing anger, and dealing with confrontation.

It’s not necessarily that I don’t want to remember these events, but there is a time and a place for working through them. My body waking me up at 3AM because I’ve had a flashback in a dream isn’t it. Other not-its? Driving, intimate moments with my husband, watching a movie, cooking, in line at the grocery store, in a big meeting for my job, etc.

I’m grateful for this label. I’m grateful that this is legitimate. I’m grateful that the impact of all these events has not been in my head. I’m grateful that my feelings are being validated, even though that isn’t absolutely needed… I know that, at times, I’ve needed that reassurance. I’m so used to gaslighting that I question myself on too many things.

Most of all, I’m grateful that myself and my loved ones are safe, that we’re not in the position we used to be.

Right now, I’m ready to face what I’ve gone through. There will be times when I want to quit and times where I need to go more slowly. I know that nothing ever changes overnight and that anything worth doing isn’t easy. The most important thing is that I know that it’s worth it – that my relationships, my career, my family, my very own self are all worth the fight.