Therapy

Ah, here it is, my blogger template. This feels a bit like crawling into a cozy spot I have left empty for awhile. When I don't write, I feel as empty as a blank page that needs to be filled up. I was perusing my own blog this evening, after finally contributing to it this morning. As always happens when I return here after months go by, I read some entries I had completely forgotten. And, as always happens I thought of more things I want to write down. Of course there's a chance I might repeat myself, since I don't remember all the stories I've already told. :)

So, let's talk about fears. I'm afraid to drive sometimes, especially on the freeway in busy traffic. I'm also afraid as a passenger, which is not fun for the driver or for me. Last spring I realized my fear was becoming bigger and causing me to miss out on things. My husband is always more than willing to hop in the car and drive me anywhere I want to go. My fear causes me to choose only to take those trips that I am comfortable taking, the ones without the busy freeway.

I finally decided to conquer the fear once and for all. I called a counselor and began therapy. I learned that a person doesn't have to be in the traumatic event for the traumatic event to impact them. I was diagnosed with PTSD and began the groundwork to prepare for EMDR therapy.

The way this was explained to me is that trauma lives in your amygdala. The reasoning part of your brain (pre-frontal cortex) covers the amygdala and allows people to use common sense. When someone with PTSD encounters a ‘trigger’ they ‘flip their lid’ (that frontal cortex) and the amygdala takes over and stimulates a fight or flight response. My triggers are loud noises, busy traffic, semi trucks and sudden braking - or just everything you encounter on the freeway. At first I was disappointed. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted the magic wand to fix me. After a few sessions I started to realize that there were a lot of contributing factors that I had forgotten.

Trying to pull even the memory of last year's therapy from my clogged up mind is almost as difficult as it was to pull the memories that trip me up in life.

My earliest memories are hard for me to grasp. The overall feeling is that my childhood was a happy one, but spotted with the frustration of always being afraid. I was shy. Even with cousins it would take hours to an entire day for me to warm up and talk, let alone play. Once I was comfortable I had a great time. When I started school it was the same way. I didn't have friends in my class to play with. My best friends, Elece and Traci Hempel, were one and two years behind me and they were making their own friends once they started school. By third grade I'd set my sights on making friends with Gayleen. I walked to her house one day and climbed the steps, knocked lightly on the door. When no one answered (because obviously I'd knocked too lightly and they didn't hear it) I walked home, head down and sad. Soon after, Elece and Traci moved away and I was even more alone.

I'm not sure how we finally became friends, but I know it was a turning point for me. Gayleen wasn't shy and she forced me out of my shell all through those early school years. By middle school she had even cajoled me into running for cheerleader. That same year, just as I was looking forward to the start of school, my brother and nephew were killed by a drunk driver.

I've written about this experience before; waking up to a house filled with my mom's friends cooking and cleaning, learning about Brad and Aaron's deaths. There was a funeral and then I was whisked away by the Hempels on their end of summer vacation. Looking back I realize there were not conversations about what happened to Brad and Aaron. I know I cried and I'm sure my mom hugged me. Once I was back home I remember being with Gayleen and sobbing on the couch. She stayed away, she didn't know what to say or do. School started and life went on.

As I re-lived these experiences in therapy I had a memory that I had buried for over 40 years. I remembered that when I was very young there was a tragic accident that killed the parents of a girl I went to school with. I was very shy, of course, and I saw this girl surrounded by love and friends who were so sad for her loss. As I had laid in my bed I could hear my parents fighting with my brother Brad. During this time Brad was not going to school, partying, and having a hard time with things in general. I had this little thought, what if something happened to Brad? Would I suddenly be surrounded by friends? Please know, even now, this is not something I share easily, as I still feel a tinge of guilt for the thoughts I had as a child. I know that there was a good possibility that something bad could have happened to my brother during that time, which is probably where that thought came from. Maybe the thought was me worrying about him. I know that I never wanted to lose him and wish every day that I could have known him as an adult.

This haunted me for years, although I never spoke of it and tried not to think of it. My counselor explained to me that when we're young, we believe our thoughts have power. I believed it was my fault that Brad and Aaron were killed.

Another strong memory for me was being at the funeral home, seeing Brad and Aaron in their coffins and seeing my dad cry for the first time. I know I was thinking how disappointed my parents would be if they knew about the horrible thought I had had several years earlier. I pushed it away even further.

As life went on my fears were reinforced every time someone I knew was killed in an auto accident, as well as every time I was rear-ended or had a fender bender as an adult.

When my daughter went to college I was sure something awful would happen to her. Instead of imagining her on a beautiful campus, making new friends and learning new things I was having nightmares of her being hurt, or worse.

When my son went to war I was afraid every day. I lived my life in fear. My belief was that horrible things happened to good people, and that horrible things were going to happen to me. My children can attest that I worried too much about them, and truth be told, I still do.

How do we overcome these fears? We try imagining ourselves in our "safe place" when things get scary, we use scents or other memories to push the fear away. We try manifesting wonderful things with our thoughts in the hope that those things will come true. (I guess we still believe our thoughts have powers.)

One year ago I thought I'd kicked the fear and I know that I have been better. Unfortunately I haven't been on any trips to Seattle to test the success of my therapy. This weekend I am faced with the decision of whether or not to go to Spokane for a funeral. I am trying to not let my fear dictate my decision. There are other factors to consider, but can I trust myself to not look for excuses to just avoid dealing with my fears?

I'll get back to you.