Author Archives: reducerenewrecycle

Oct 23 2018
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abuse, depression, renew, trauma

Look for the helpers

“Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” – Mister Rogers

Easter was the first holiday after I broke the silence. I was 26 and the fallout meant I would spend the day alone. While prepared to do so, it still hurt.

I declined many sweet offers from friends to join their families. I was still too ashamed.

Forever, I will be grateful to one friend who – in the most loving way possible – bullied me into Easter with her family. On the drive back to my house, I wept quiet tears because for that moment, kindness eclipsed everything else.

Omitting the why and subsequent tears, I told that story at her wedding. That single act of determined compassion and kindness still makes me misty.

Look for the helpers.

Oct 23 2018
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abuse, recycle, trauma

Maslow got it

Safety is second only to food, water and sleep in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. And in the wake of sexual assault, I never felt safe.

I felt most vulnerable on the brink of sleep. Today, the reason falling asleep was difficult is clear. But at the time, I did what people do; I found a way to avoid that feeling.

Moving targets are less vulnerable and allow little time for intrusive thoughts. So, I never stopped moving. My schedule was ridiculous. I habitually exhausted myself so I’d be too tired to think.

The first time I remember falling asleep on my terms was next to my best friend in college. Everyone assumed “we’re just friends” really meant he and I were sleeping together. And we were, but not like that.

I gravitated to the safety of his side. Especially in times vulnerability: Whenever I planned to drink a lot, in the event of unwanted male attention, at night and so on. He protected me. We never talked about it. He just let me be near him. And the safety he gave me was something no other person had done in my life.

I did not make it this far on my own. So many friends propped me up, held me close to their hearts and even carried me when the paralysis of shame or fear set in.

And most of them don’t even know the impact of their kindness and compassion – they are just simply extraordinary people I’ve been so lucky to have found.

Oct 12 2018
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abuse, renew

The Tipping Point

In the before times, I was:
Silenced by shame.

Imploded by hate.

Terrified by a secret.

Sparked by “Why do you always call your dad an asshole?”

Fueled by standing up for myself.

Devastated by apathy.

Then I was:
Baffled by the 2016 election; though I stayed quiet.

Disgusted by the #metoo stories; yet I didn’t speak up.

Appalled by the dismissal of Dr. Ford; and my anger percolated.

Horrified by seeing a friend and meeting her brother — both raped daily by their father; and my fury simmered.

Crushed to learn when my friend posted about her own sexual assault as a preschooler …

And finally, finally, I exploded:

Capture

Apr 30 2018
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Uncategorized

Wanted: Agitator

The job

  1. Acknowledge that I cannot eat crap food. Bad things happen every time.
  2. Come to believe I am a) worth living happily b) that I have the power to do things differently.
  3. Become willing to do things differently and make healthy choices in my thoughts, behaviors and actions through various methods.
  4. Look at the patterns of thought and behavior that don’t serve me.
  5. Reflect on these patterns, discuss them with someone if necessary and fully acknowledge that these things harm me and cannot continue.
  6. Become willing to surrender these negative patterns of thought, behavior and actions.
  7. Take the necessary action to change these maladaptive patterns, to end unhealthy relationships and continue to take action that leads me to wellness.
  8. Make a list of persons I have harmed and become willing to make amends to them.
  9. Make direct amends to such people.
  10. Continue to watch for maladaptive behavior, without judgement, and take action to change it.
  11. Involve myself in positive activities
  12. Live an example of a positive, openhearted, honest, ethical life.

The pitch

Good afternoon,

I’m seeking a new therapist.

I am a 41yo woman with a history of trauma, long-term childhood sexual and emotional abuse, and a buffet of other experiences that resulted in a generalized anxiety disorder, depression and PTSD. Plus, two stints of PPD.

The goal is simple: I want to put the past and all of the fallout from it to rest. While all my experiences shaped who I am today – and I like who I am – I’m exhausted by their intrusive presence and continued impact on my present-day life. I’m done with treating the symptoms – I want to treat the cause.

But, the challenge is twofold:

  1. I present well. Too well. I’m likable. My story is crappy and I’m uncontrollably genuine such that most therapists can’t help but want to nurture me. But I need someone who is both kind and gentle but also knows when to push, agitate and dig in and not let up.
  2. I need more than talk therapy. Should we talk for three hours at a time? Sure. Do you have homework for me? Great. Do you have some DBT, visualization, 12-step, EMDR, Eastern medicine program you want me to try? Let’s do it – but you have to assign and hold me accountable. I appreciate readings, but photocopied pages of chapters is not how I learn.

So, if you are interested in my case, I’d like to meet you for a quick meeting to see if we jive.  If we move forward, I am happy to sign an ROI so you can read my past therapy notes so we can be an efficient team.

I need an agitator.

Dec 11 2014
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reduce

Hijacked

21 weeks, 0 days.

Hijacked.  That might be the best word to describe this body at present. A foreign torso complete with two oversized breasts and one protruding abdomen that says to the world with shrugged shoulders ‘might be a baby, might be too many donuts.’

American societal self-consciousness seems like the beginning of a genetic mutation of the second X chromosome. We’re not born worrying about ‘the right’ shade of skin, style of hair, color of nails, fabric with which we strategically cover ourselves. The awareness of those trivial things is learned and made important to us.  We do this to ourselves.

For awhile I subscribed to TIME and People magazines, joking they were brain food and empty calories.  One day, after I finished an issue of People the realization that I only felt bad about my body was startling. I closed the periodical focused on all the parts of my body that I didn’t like, and for the most part, couldn’t change. And I realized I didn’t like those parts because they didn’t look like one-dimensional figures in the media of which I chose to surround myself.  Instead of mirroring the characteristics and inner beauty of the 3D people I admired around me, I was measuring myself against the physical attributes of actresses and celebrities.

As I sit at the gorgeous pool of a gorgeous resort on this gorgeous island and all I think about how chubby I look in a bikini and wising no one noticed me; I’m left wonder what the hell my problem is and how I’m going to get over myself as not to reinforce this superficial bullshit with our daughter.

Sep 20 2014
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adventure

No one mentioned this part

Let’s fast forward past the pregnancy news for a moment to today.  Week 8, Day 2.

This has been an eight week roller coaster.  Now, as one of the last of my friends to conceive I’ve been privy to the gory details, but I don’t recall anyone talking about how overwhelming and stressful this first part is.

First, it’s shocking as hell.  Then, it’s exciting.  That excitement turns to fear with a (false alarm) ectopic pregnancy ultrasound.  Then there’s blood. And a hastily scheduled ultrasound by a nurse who made everything worse and used the term ‘viable pregnancy’ – then just kidding, she called back after conferring with the doctor and canceled the ultrasound. Then more blood.

I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what the plan is. I suppose many women feel this way and we never hear about a pregnancy until Week 12.  Perhaps I am starting to understand why.

Jun 23 2014
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reduce

Through the Looking Glass

We took the Enneagram personality test at work and reviewed the results today.

According to Enneagram, I am a:

Helper
Loyalist
Achiever

In reading more about the Helper (aka ‘Two’), I found this paragraph particularly interesting:

Although on the surface Twos appear to feel at ease with others and to be a source of emotional sustenance for the people in their lives, they also suffer from well-hidden feelings of rejection. Twos expect people to not want them around, and they often feel that they need to be extraordinarily kind and supportive to get people to accept and love them. They usually try to conceal the depths of their loneliness or hurt beneath an image of concern for others, focusing on others’ needs to help them feel better. Sometimes it does, but just as often, Twos may feel that others are not appreciating them for their efforts, thus rekindling their feelings of rejection. Then they may become touchy or even openly angry, revealing the extent of the disappointment they are hiding.

Wowza.  For the first part of my life, it was just me and my mom.  Then she met and married The Pedophile, and had my baby brother in the span of ten months.  I was simply a four-year old lost in the shuffle and much too young to understand why I wasn’t the center of my mom’s universe anymore.

Growing up, when I wasn’t merely an object of The Pedophile’s perversion, I had to work very hard to be well-liked by him in order to get him to be a dad.  On the converse, when my mom wasn’t sick, I purposefully drove her into a rage knowing she would lash out. If my mom was hitting me, that meant she cared enough to discipline me. She gave her love freely to us, but it wasn’t her love I wanted. I wanted desperately for her to be my mom and if she wasn’t going to stand up for me, the least she could do was stand up to me.

At age 26, when I told my mom and my brothers what The Pedophile did to me, I already knew my mom couldn’t / wouldn’t leave him.  But my brothers?  They were 20 and 22, I was so hopeful that they would stick up for me.  I didn’t ask them to make a choice, but deep down I really wanted them to pick me.  When they decided to ride the fence with one foot in each camp, I turned that deep and painful rejection into something positive. I took care of them (and everyone else) instead. And I spun their disloyalty into loyalty of my own with rationalizations like, ‘I know what it’s like not to have a dad and I don’t want that for them’ and ‘my mom is too dependent on my dad to leave’ and I resolved to blame everyone’s ambivalence on the person who had caused all of this.

No wonder I quit shortly after credit was given to others and my efforts were ignored by leadership after pulling off an extraorinary 1,100-person, 28-day, 4-wave incentive trip that I planned in six months mostly by myself.  It makes sense that I would banish RT3 from my life when he opted to hang out more with his new girlfriend than with me all the time.  And the fog is clearing as to why I was a master at shunning boys and friends who hurt my heart.

Huh.  I didn’t expect to learn this enlightenment today.  I think I have a few things to share with my brothers.

May 04 2014
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reduce, renew, wellness

Aaaand we’re back

Treads and I ran a marathon in 2006. And then again in 2010.  It seemed only incrementally fitting that we would run in 2014.  In January, registering for the race in October sounded like a great idea.  Even in April – with training set to start May 4 – the idea was still lively and exciting.

However, as the first ‘comeback run’ approached, enthusiasm gave way to doubt.  Today was scheduled as the first three miles of 325.2 and frankly, to say I wasn’t sure of myself would be an understatement. Signing up for the autumn race seemed like a great idea in January but as today approached a familiar arch-nemesis swiftly rolled in like fog.

Doubt is a toxin that, if left to its own devices, will paralyze the host – and man does it take a lot of courage to outrun it.  However, after getting up early and finishing the first uphill mile after a long hiatus at a solid pace in the cold when staying in bed this morning sounded so much better, there is only one thing to say to Doubt. Suck it.

Mar 14 2014
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renew

The Son of a Preacher Man

Lately, I’ve been unable to shake the desire to email an old boyfriend. Not for any other reason than to tell him, hey, thank you for being a great person.  RT3 was raised by Pastor Bob and Tootse.  Raised in Kentucky, their jobs brought them to this metropolis when RT3 was young. I remember the day I first met them.  I was 22 and they embraced me from the minute I walked through the door of their north suburban rambler.  He was clearly an apple of their limbs – and they are all some of the best people I’ve ever met.

I had a crush on him in college well before he ever noticed me. We dated for a little over a year after graduation and I so badly wanted to love him like he loved me.  I didn’t understand how I couldn’t be attracted this wonderful human being – or, in the least make myself be.

It took a few years, but we became friends after our relationship ended.  Great friends.  And then he met his now wife.  Even though I was second only to his sister as the most harmless person to their relationship, I still was a girl that RT3 used to date.  For a long time after we lost touch, I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t be happy for him when I felt such injustice that he had taken his friendship away when I didn’t do anything wrong. Eventually, I got over myself. I’d like to say it was because I saw how happy he was.  But more likely it was because time dulls all feelings.

It wasn’t until TB expressed his frustration with me hanging out with an old boyfriend did I have an inkling of the position RT3 had been in with his then-girlfriend about me those years ago.  It super sucked to send to him the email to tell him I couldn’t meet up for happy hour anymore because it made my husband too uncomfortable.

Today, I want to tell him that he’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. And that I’m so glad he was a big part of my life.  I want to tell him that I’m sad we can’t be better friends but he’ll always be among the blessings I count in my life. And last, I want to tell him I attribute to him, in part, that I picked a good one who treats me well.  After all, he was the first guy in the aftermath of my formative years who demonstrated how a guy is supposed to love a girl.

But, that’s kind of a weird email to send.  And probably a weird email to receive.  So I’ll just tell the internet instead.

Feb 11 2014
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reduce, wellness

Hibernesting

Hibernesting.  As in I have been in a state of rest at home much of the last three months.

For the first time really, I feel in a state of peace.  And I am reveling in it.

November launched a new career at a new company as well as the beginning of a drug regimen to provide a crutch to the happiness and peace chemicals in my brain until they can stand alone.

December brought a much-needed vacation for TB and me. We were both probably too exhausted to fully enjoy the week in Hawaii, but grateful to stop nonetheless.  I didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt that we skipped the Christmas decorations.  In fact, I was grateful for the decision on December 26.

January was busy. I agreed to contract back with the nonprofit and found myself working full time and an additional 15-20 hours  a week in nonprofitland.  The contract expired at the end of the month and I was happy to have helped (as well as to make up the $4,000 pay cut from the career change) and even happier to turn in my keys.

February has been, so far, a state of blissful rest.  Work. Rest. Sleep. Repeat.  It’s been lovely.  Eventually, and thankfully, I will tire of resting, but right now, hibernesting has been a glorious experience.

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