Sunday, June 3, 2012

Glue is not just for preschool anymore. (maybe I should sniff some?)

Yeah, the fourth month after a surgery is about when I start to get unglued emotionally.

When the physical starts to lay back a bit, breathe, heal, give me a tad less pain...
BOOM. Emotional stuff comes out to play. Nothing I can't handle (please Gd), but I just have noticed that when the "crisis" of post surgical care and pain eases up (for the 7th time), it doesn't mean that life is all better again. I wish. This is about the time, four months post surgery, after the NF surgeries and crises were a bit less critical, my PTSD started to erupt as if it was just waiting to pounce. This feels like that, too. POUNCE. I had some huge floodgates open up last week with The Rabanit (pronounced rah-ban-NEET): my mentor, teacher, adviser, general woman wiser than you can imagine, who I learn with. I am working with her on the material of the floodgates, and I hope this is the time that the material will lovingly grow up, and join me in living instead of loneliness. It's time... and it's time to do it without medicating it, please Gd. Back then, five years ago, when my PTSD came on board, I got medicines. I *needed* those medicines. I still take those medicines. We no longer play with those medicines. But I think I am strong enough to do it this time as is. Yes, staying with medicines of five years, but now with spiritual council, not only psychiatric council. Five years ago, my PTSD was "wicked strong", as they used to say when I lived in Boston 18 years ago. I now know that it was a combination of life experiences that contributed.

...because -slipping into a coma from a rare bacterial infection and waking up with grotesque surgical cuttings and gouging wasn't enough. I was in a physical state that I could hardly move in my hospital bed, and I couldn't bear to look at my body under the hospital gown. It took me many days until I had to see the damage. A nurse made me look, I wasn't ready. She forced me to look at my body. Then a doctor heartlessly ripped off a bandage from a fresh skin graft donor site and caused three hours of the worst searing pain I have ever experienced in my whole life. (there are entries about all of this stuff in the CaringBridge journal. A link can be found on the left side of this page for that).

No, the PTSD wasn't *only* from all that. There was other stuff joining the bandwagon. Pretty big bandwagon... bandbus is more like it.

And *that* is what made life so much harder to go on. Not just the NF and insanity of that. No, not just that. Lots of traumas awaken when one of them comes and makes lots of noise. I knew this that first year- 2007- when I was working with my first trauma therapist. It's just that I think now is the time that I can heal the others as well.

How can this all be in one person? It blows my _own_ mind, and I am me. Am I supposed to be some sort of goat that takes on the sins of one generation? Is that me? I don't think so. You know why? Because that is a high, lofty, Godly position, even *if* that goat is going to be pushed off a hill. It is a Godly position because that goat was chosen by God.

I have no pretensions that I am some Chosen Soul, or that I am a goat, for that matter. :)
I just think that, all that.... and now this.... it's a lot.     It's a lot.     And sometimes that lot makes me unglued. I hope I have found the right way and right people to help glue me back together again. Funny- in the beginning of this journey (in CaringBridge again) I used to refer to myself as Humpty Dumpty, needing to glue Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Now I just feel small, humbled by the enormity of these challenges that were visited upon me one day, five years ago.

Does healing take one's whole lifetime?
 Will my head ever be quiet enough that I can enjoy life again?
Will my body ever. stop. hurting. from all of this cutting and gluing?

Please God.

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