What happens when inner tension grows so great that a perfectly good brain feels as hard as a rock, placed within a vice that tightens till personal strengths seem to crumple like a fist full of tin foil? Well … at first glance …
September 2013
Seemingly, it makes sense to believe that something is terribly wrong with me, when in truth, what is wrong is that I don't know what is wrong and neither does anyone else … and no one can unlock my subconscious to help me to figure out what demon is lumbering around, behind my mental block, except for me, suggesting that the most secure, mature, self confident side of my conscious mind must muster the courage to crack through a defensive wall, which, until recently, had stopped my conscious mind from identifying a subconscious 'secret' too terrifying for a child to recall, and what if no one realizes that this secret, which has been squeezing through cracks in my defensive wall, one detail at a time, has been attempting to release another detail that will explain the depth of this fear that began to paralyze me as Will's surgery neared? Well, as long as that detail remains secreted from my conscious mind, it's likely that most people will see me as over-reactive, kind of crazy or perhaps a touch of both, right? And so, upon awakening each morning and peering into my mirror, I, too, will worriedly wonder …
What happens when you arise after a sleepless night to peer in the mirror and see eyes rimmed in dark circles? When size 4 petite jeans have suddenly grown baggy? When your husband is facing cancer surgery, and everyone says 'be strong', but you can't find a strength to save your own life? How confounded must the conscious mind of this person become? I mean if this happened to you, wouldn't you wonder how your perfectly capable, solution-seeking brain got to feeling like a piece of scrap metal, crushed, painfully within a vice?
When do you need a positively focused, compassionate, non-judgemental support system, most? When your spirit is strong and your brain is functioning fine? Or when you are forcing yourself to eat, breathe deep and unclench your muscles at least enough to get from the bed to living room, where you sit on the couch next to your husband, who slides a protective arm around your shoulder, pulls you in close and asks if you've had any juice—I mean seriously—isn't this the time when I'm supposed to be taking care of Will??????
If asked what caused me to forget my own mantra(NGUOUY) which is meant to breathe life into my spirit before it exhausts, reflection offers up this insightful reply:
In truth, I did not forget my mantra. I just didn't recognize it speaking to me when I'd hear myself say: Whatever this is that's tormenting me is deeper than facing the approach of Will's surgery. This fear is emerging from a secret chamber in my mind …
Seeing myself as unable to function, I asked my therapist and internist if they thought me in need of hospitalization; both answered, individually: No. The power of this fear is causing your brain's defense system to produce so much adrenalin that your fight/flight/freeze instinct has switched off your Neo Cortex's ability to think. Once we relax your adrenal glands, your adrenalin production will re-adjust itself.
At this point, my therapist and internist conversed by phone and concurred that Ativan would calm my adrenal gland, which had gone into overdrive, as well as calming my heartbeat and the rest of my body, thus, allowing my contracted muscles to relax. Being highly sensitive to medication, I felt so completely drugged that the lowest dosage was cut into half, and even then, I could barely open my eyes. Hating the way this drug made me feel, I had to force myself to swallow it and couldn't wait to stop taking it.
Thank goodness I'd been working with an astute therapist, trained in EMDR, which helps me to uncloak 'forgotten' memories—one detail at a time—traumatic memories which had severely injured my self esteem ...
And as I'd made a study of injured self esteem for many years, my mantra of:
September 2013
Seemingly, it makes sense to believe that something is terribly wrong with me, when in truth, what is wrong is that I don't know what is wrong and neither does anyone else … and no one can unlock my subconscious to help me to figure out what demon is lumbering around, behind my mental block, except for me, suggesting that the most secure, mature, self confident side of my conscious mind must muster the courage to crack through a defensive wall, which, until recently, had stopped my conscious mind from identifying a subconscious 'secret' too terrifying for a child to recall, and what if no one realizes that this secret, which has been squeezing through cracks in my defensive wall, one detail at a time, has been attempting to release another detail that will explain the depth of this fear that began to paralyze me as Will's surgery neared? Well, as long as that detail remains secreted from my conscious mind, it's likely that most people will see me as over-reactive, kind of crazy or perhaps a touch of both, right? And so, upon awakening each morning and peering into my mirror, I, too, will worriedly wonder …
What happens when you arise after a sleepless night to peer in the mirror and see eyes rimmed in dark circles? When size 4 petite jeans have suddenly grown baggy? When your husband is facing cancer surgery, and everyone says 'be strong', but you can't find a strength to save your own life? How confounded must the conscious mind of this person become? I mean if this happened to you, wouldn't you wonder how your perfectly capable, solution-seeking brain got to feeling like a piece of scrap metal, crushed, painfully within a vice?
When do you need a positively focused, compassionate, non-judgemental support system, most? When your spirit is strong and your brain is functioning fine? Or when you are forcing yourself to eat, breathe deep and unclench your muscles at least enough to get from the bed to living room, where you sit on the couch next to your husband, who slides a protective arm around your shoulder, pulls you in close and asks if you've had any juice—I mean seriously—isn't this the time when I'm supposed to be taking care of Will??????
If asked what caused me to forget my own mantra(NGUOUY) which is meant to breathe life into my spirit before it exhausts, reflection offers up this insightful reply:
In truth, I did not forget my mantra. I just didn't recognize it speaking to me when I'd hear myself say: Whatever this is that's tormenting me is deeper than facing the approach of Will's surgery. This fear is emerging from a secret chamber in my mind …
Seeing myself as unable to function, I asked my therapist and internist if they thought me in need of hospitalization; both answered, individually: No. The power of this fear is causing your brain's defense system to produce so much adrenalin that your fight/flight/freeze instinct has switched off your Neo Cortex's ability to think. Once we relax your adrenal glands, your adrenalin production will re-adjust itself.
At this point, my therapist and internist conversed by phone and concurred that Ativan would calm my adrenal gland, which had gone into overdrive, as well as calming my heartbeat and the rest of my body, thus, allowing my contracted muscles to relax. Being highly sensitive to medication, I felt so completely drugged that the lowest dosage was cut into half, and even then, I could barely open my eyes. Hating the way this drug made me feel, I had to force myself to swallow it and couldn't wait to stop taking it.
Thank goodness I'd been working with an astute therapist, trained in EMDR, which helps me to uncloak 'forgotten' memories—one detail at a time—traumatic memories which had severely injured my self esteem ...
And as I'd made a study of injured self esteem for many years, my mantra of:
NEVER GIVE UP ON UNDERSTANDING YOURSELF
Had not deserted me as I'd thought. Retrospectively, here's how I know that to be true:
Throughout those two weeks before Will's surgery and the two weeks after, I kept saying aloud: This reaction is not about Will's cancer. This is caused by something deeper. In the worst case scenerio, I do not fear life on my own. I lived alone during the months of our separation.
Unfortunately, while my brain felt crushed in that vice, that's the extent of what intuition had been able to convey to my conscious mind for this reason:
Unfortunately, while my brain felt crushed in that vice, that's the extent of what intuition had been able to convey to my conscious mind for this reason:
A think tank, pulsing with adrenalin-driven tension, is blocked from hearing intuition trying to clarify why I could not breathe, or eat or unclench muscles, which had grown painful from head to toe—or write to save my life. During those weeks, intuition had no way to signal me of this fact: My conscious mind was actually working doggedly, day and night, to communicate with my subconscious.
Upon reflection, I can say: Thank goodness my brain remained within that vice, which forced both sides of my mind (my logical think tank and my subconscious terror) to squeeze against each other until the defensive wall that divided my brain in half, cracked—allowing one more detail, secreted away for many years, to slip through that crack … and at the exact moment when that detail slipped into my conscious mind, I was in bed with Will, who, though sound asleep, had been holding my hand, because we couldn't cuddle, together, until his incision had healed …
October, 2013
Will, I say quietly, so as to awaken my husband, gently, Will ...
When Will opens his eyes, I continue ...
Will, it stopped when I met you ...
At this Will, still groggy with sleep, awakens just enough to ask ...
Huh? ... What stopped?
January, 2014
There I go, leaping too far ahead on my story line, again, when
I've not yet finished telling you how my dear friend, Margie, helped me to make a heart-wrenching decision, concerning my mom's 100th birthday celebration.
BTW ... Today is January 25, 2014
Though I was supposed to fly home after seeing my mom in the rehab facility after she'd suffered a fall (no broken bones, thank goodness!) I'm still in the Midwest. My flight, which was due to arrive from the east coast, was cancelled due to weather, last night. Hopefully, I'll fly home, this afternoon …
Wish me luck ...
Upon reflection, I can say: Thank goodness my brain remained within that vice, which forced both sides of my mind (my logical think tank and my subconscious terror) to squeeze against each other until the defensive wall that divided my brain in half, cracked—allowing one more detail, secreted away for many years, to slip through that crack … and at the exact moment when that detail slipped into my conscious mind, I was in bed with Will, who, though sound asleep, had been holding my hand, because we couldn't cuddle, together, until his incision had healed …
October, 2013
Will, I say quietly, so as to awaken my husband, gently, Will ...
When Will opens his eyes, I continue ...
Will, it stopped when I met you ...
At this Will, still groggy with sleep, awakens just enough to ask ...
Huh? ... What stopped?
January, 2014
There I go, leaping too far ahead on my story line, again, when
I've not yet finished telling you how my dear friend, Margie, helped me to make a heart-wrenching decision, concerning my mom's 100th birthday celebration.
BTW ... Today is January 25, 2014
Though I was supposed to fly home after seeing my mom in the rehab facility after she'd suffered a fall (no broken bones, thank goodness!) I'm still in the Midwest. My flight, which was due to arrive from the east coast, was cancelled due to weather, last night. Hopefully, I'll fly home, this afternoon …
Wish me luck ...
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