Category Archives: Trauma

Exercise, Trauma, Writing

My relationship with writing

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I was listening to a podcast interview with an author awhile back. The author talked about her writing as a relationship, and that stuck with me. I feel similarly. I’ve always had a relationship to writing. A relationship *with* writing. Some days we are close, spending all our time together. Other days not so much. We haven’t been all that close the last few years. With all the running and trauma therapy, it sort of took a backseat. Sorry, Writing. I miss you!!

I am working to be more intentional in a couple areas of my life, and writing is at the top of the list. I am working on writing a book length memoir. I have talked about and considered it for years, but now I’m actually taking tiny baby steps every day, every week, to slowly move towards that goal. I have a small group of friends who have graciously agreed to receive regular updates. Sort of an accountability group, if you will. They are also great cheerleaders when I need the encouragement.

There have been lots of moments along this journey where I have needed encouragement. This is not an easy project I have taken on. First of all, the craft of writing is something I have zero training in. Second of all, I’m bumping into areas of yet unprocessed trauma as I am working to craft the story. So I’m having to go gently and that takes time. Third of all, I still have all the other areas of life I need to remember to give attention to!

I have a tendency to get a little obsessive with writing, and the side effect is that all other areas of life get shoved to the side. I’m working on that. I’m trying to stay intentional with fitness. Running and strength training, specifically. I talked to the staff at my gym today and have plans to sign up for weekly classes and meet with the personal trainer to go over my goals. Looking for more accountability. It’s a step.

So, full disclosure. I feel like my relationship with writing got a little dysfunctional, and this blog post is my step #1 to getting back to a normal, healthy (aka not obsessive) relationship with it. No more pouring over memoir methods, coaches, videos, books, podcasts, etc. I’m scaling WAY back on that, and am going to try to be intentional about blogging here again. Short blurbs, stories that pop into my head and beg to be put down in words. EVEN IF they aren’t well-written stories. I still want to tell them. That is what I feel like God has put on my heart and held there for the longest time. Months, years perhaps? He has given me a desire and I need to stop ignoring it. The nagging hasn’t stopped, so I might as well see what happens if I finally give in to it.

Oh! And so I don’t forget, I need to tell you about my recent trip to the Abbey with my sister. So if you don’t see that post come across in the next couple weeks, bug me will ya? I wrote half of it but need to finish it. Also, I’d love to tell you what I’ve been learning in the kitchen. I could talk all day about food but sometimes it’s harder to get it down in words. So there are lots of stories to come through here, if I do what I say I’m gonna do. Stay tuned. *Shalom, Mel*

Books, Running, Trauma, Writing

Book Review: The Longest Race

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Kara Goucher is a professional runner, now retired from competing. She is still very active in the running world as a track and field analyst for NBC, and she hosts a podcast with another favorite running rockstar, Des Linden. I had heard of Goucher but not known much about her story. I like to learn about these professional female distance runners because it inspires me to keep running. The Longest Race is Goucher’s memoir about her life with running. She has a long list of awards and accolades, but I won’t list them here. You can look her up. If you do, you might find her described as a whistleblower of the doping and sexual abuse that was going on at Nike. This is what she talks about in this memoir and I was both intrigued and mortified. The abuse she endured was awful, but she was able to rise above it and hold accountable the people who abused her.

I was able to relate to her story of abuse only in a broad way, because those on the other side of trauma often speak a lot of the same language. Even if the details are different, we all get it on one level or another. So that was refreshing to read and I found myself wanting to reach into the book and hug her.

I was also inspired by the way she talked about running. It helped revive a bit of my desire to run more. When she was training for competition it sounded brutal, but when she was able to run for fun, I could definitely relate, and it brought back warm memories of when I was training for my marathons and half marathons. Some of what running brought Goucher – freedom, confidence, courage – are what running has brought me as well. Throughout the book I felt like I could relate to her, and it inspired and encouraged me. I think that’s the whole point of a memoir, so I would say she nailed it! I would recommend this book, 10/10.

Deep thoughts, Kids, Stories, Trauma, Writing

She is not me

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I want to share something that I learned this week, in case it might resonate with you as well. The other day I found out some bad news. A horse that my daughter had loved riding had passed away. I was feeling quite emotional about it, and debated when to tell her. I finally decided to just rip the band-aid off and do it right away. I went up to her room, opened the door, and said, “I have to tell you some bad news.” And then I stopped. I couldn’t get the words out. Tears were welling up in my eyes. She sat there waiting. Then, jokingly, “Mom, just say it!”

I had to keep looking away. Swallowing my spit in hopes of stopping the tears and getting my voice back. After several bizarre seconds, I finally spit it out. “Trixie passed away over the winter.” And then I waited for my daughter’s equally devastated response.

I got nothing like that.

She was not devastated. Not overcome with sadness. Not the emotional wreck that her mother was appearing to be. She was calm. She explained to me, sounding so grown-up, “It’s fine. Horses die all the time for lots of reasons.”

I was stunned. She was so calm and pragmatic about the news. Who is this kid? She is not me.

Here I was, trying to shield her from the hurt, protect her from the sadness that I only assumed she would feel. Why? Because when I was her age, I would have felt those things, and this type of news would have crushed me, leaving me in a cloud of sadness for days.

But she is not me.

This had me thinking about how often I have done this with her, my daughter who looks so much like me and yet in personality and emotional makeup is so different. She has grown up in an entirely different home environment than I did. She has experienced different things. She has learned how to process her big, upsetting feelings and has come out stronger. When I attempt to shield her from these sad scenarios, what I’m really doing is doubting her strength. I’m saying I don’t believe she can handle it. But that’s not for me to decide, is it?

She is not me.

I am learning that I need to give her more credit, and this has me thinking in broader terms. How many times have I done this with other people? How many times have I tortured myself and put off having difficult discussions with family, friends, even coworkers (I’m going way back here; I haven’t worked a job since 2013). Why were these discussions so difficult? Or rather, why did they *seem* so difficult? I think there are two equally valid theories to answer this question. Some would say that it’s empathy, that I’m thinking of others’ feelings, and being courteous of how they might feel about the topic of discussion. Fair enough. But the other theory, the one that was a lightbulb moment for me, is that it might be projection. I am projecting onto others when I assume they would react the way I would. And I think in the aforementioned discussion with my daughter it was definitely the latter. I was assuming her reaction would be like mine.

But she is not me.

I am in awe of this. Humbled and amazed. How can a 14 year old be smarter than me? Well, I believe she watched carefully those first few years as I worked through trauma therapy. She paid attention to my changing reactions to every stressful situation that came my way. She learned from watching me. And she’s not afraid of her emotions the way I used to be. She can feel sadness and knows it won’t destroy her.

I am so grateful to see this emotional resilience in my daughter, but I am also grateful for the greater lesson I’m learning here. I am learning to allow other people to have their reactions, and I am not so acutely affected by them as I once was. We all have big feelings. I can handle mine, and you can handle yours. This has been one of the many great outcomes of trauma therapy, and I wish I could share it with everyone who cares to listen. That said, I’m hoping to write more about it here on the blog, especially since the kids are back in school and that allows me more headspace for it. So stay tuned for that, my friends.

Deafness, Deep thoughts, Family, Friends, Hearing Loss, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Prayer, Stories, Tinnitus, Trauma, Visually Impaired

Trigger Warning: Suicide

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Doctors never did figure out why I had been sleeping so much. They tested for all sorts of things, but came up short. They suspected Susac’s Syndrome, which at the time I thought was fatal, so I’m glad that turned up negative. I’ve had a couple fluorescein angiograms to take pictures of the blood vessels in my eyes, but both times they showed that everything was normal. To this day, I’m still a medical mystery. 

After sleeping a couple months of my life away, I started to wake up a bit more to what was going on. I was still very deaf and still could not see well, and still had no answers and no hope. The reality of it all was starting to set in. I was now, ironically, having trouble falling asleep at night. The tinnitus would get so loud. I remember the ringing sounded a lot like chanting monks, which would normally be a comfort to me, but at four in the morning it was a nuisance. I brought this issue up to Dr. Hong at a follow up visit and he prescribed me Xanax to help me sleep. It worked wonders. I was able to get proper rest at night and was miraculously still able to wake up in the mornings to help get the kids ready for school. 

I want to convey my level of desperation at this point in time without being overly dramatic. Mike and the kids had left me home alone for an evening because I had seemed to be doing so well, but that turned out to not be the case. I was feeling scared and beat down and I couldn’t see any way out of my situation. I was unable to communicate effectively with everyone I cared about. I felt utterly ALONE. I was at the end of my rope, and wanting to let go. I was feeling so desperate for a way out that I seriously considered swallowing the whole bottle of Xanax. Even more frightening than the hearing and vision loss was the thought that I wanted to check out of life permanently. I reached out to my girlfriends, hoping and praying that one of them could come over and save me from myself. My friend Tracy was the first to respond and she rushed over to the house. She prayed with me and hugged me and reminded me that I was not alone in this struggle. She left that night with the bottle of Xanax so I wouldn’t be tempted again.

As awful as it was, that night was a turning point for me. I had to stop retreating into myself. I needed to reach out, both to God and to the friends and family He had put in my life. After my family returned home that night and we put the kids to bed, I shared with my husband what had happened. I could see from his face that he was both shocked and sad, but he was glad I told him and he reassured me that we were in this together, and that he and the kids needed me. We hugged for a long time and he let me cry on his shoulder. It was good to be reminded that he was there for me because, while we didn’t know it yet, we had an important trip coming up at the end of the month to the Mayo Clinic. I’ll be sharing more about that in the next installment of Adventures with Mel 😉

Anemia, Coronavirus, Deep thoughts, Health, Mental health, Running, Trauma

Thoughts on Trauma

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Trauma. It sounds like an alarmist word. Until you find that it’s exactly the right word to describe what you’ve been through. You didn’t know it at the time, because you were a child and the adults in your life were telling you this was normal. That you had a good life. That you were just overreacting. It was probably just those teenage hormones lying to you about how bad things were. But hormones don’t lie. People do.

And children grow up and start remembering. Often not in clear memories, but in physical responses to situations bearing resemblance to what you went through. That part of your brain remembers, and it’s trying to protect you. Don’t ignore it. Get help. Because while the danger is no longer out there,  it is now within you, internalized and threatening to repeat all the same behaviors that were normalized for you growing up. The rage attacks, the love bombing, the blame shifting, the gaslighting, the confusing and conflicting messages. You’ve got to end the cycle. Work on you. You are the only one you have control over.

All these terms, these are buzzwords. But what they are to me are light bulbs and with them someone finally turned the lights on when I’ve been stumbling around in the dark for years, decades even. The lights are on and now I’m standing in this maze and trying to find my way out. It’s not easy. But I have  cheerleaders, faithful supporters standing to the side shouting directions, whispering life giving encouragement. I’m going to get out of this maze. I must. I am a trauma survivor.

All of that I wrote, previously. But I feel it needs a little more explanation. See I’ve been living in a constant state of anxiety for as long as I can remember. And late last year I discovered that wasn’t normal. The racing heartbeat, the tremors, the cold sweats, the nightmares, the panic attacks. These were symptoms of complex ptsd. I sought help from a trauma therapist back in November and I’ve been seeing her ever since. Twice a week, sometimes three, to work through and properly process the trauma I’ve lived through. My therapist uses a method called EMDR, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, and it’s fascinating. I had stumbled across it while doing my initial research into what I was experiencing and it’s turned out to be exactly what I needed. Because traditional talk therapy is difficult when you have trouble with your memory. I won’t go in to the specifics of it, because you can look it up for yourself, but I will say it has worked it’s magic rather quickly. In four short months I am far less triggered by every day stressors. I’m finding it easier to relax my shoulders. I’m sleeping through the night (most of the time). The nightmares have waned considerably. I’m getting better at responding as opposed to reacting.

So we’ve stopped the bleeding, so to speak, but I still have a lot of healing to do. My mind is still replaying toxic messaging, I’m still doubting my every decision, my self-worth. I’m still desperately seeking validation every where I go. But I am on the mend, I’m getting the help, and that’s what matters most.

This is a big reason why I have not posted here on the blog since January. Other reasons are related to my physical health. Some of it covid related, some of it related to being a pre-menopausal woman. I think I’ve been anemic for some time, who knows how long it’s been building, but it ended with a trip to the ER the day after my birthday and my first ever blood transfusion, hurray! So I’m seeing doctors, I’m taking medications, I’m on the mend. However, this has all wreaked havoc on my energy levels and my ability to run, which *KILLS* my pride and frustrates me to no end, but I’m trying to remember this is just a season and it won’t last forever. I will get back to running, and I’ll update y’all when that happens (which I hope will be soon, since I have races on the calendar calling my name).