Tree day!

The Boys took the truck, the chainsaw, and the snowshoes and headed out Christmas tree hunting this morning. After much wading through deep snow they found a gorgeous tree ... Very tall (I hear there is a family bylaw requiring trees to be over 8'), lovely branches, very snowy!

It has been raining in the house for awhile now, and lights are being installed. I am supervising, for the most part, from my position on the couch ... I've got the full blown flu-style exhaustion going on just now, so I am trying very hard to pace myself. I do one small thing, like reheat leftovers and eat lunch, then lie down again with my knitting. Being horizontal or mostly so seems to help quite a bit. 

The Boy brought the boxes of decorations up from the basement and Princess Girl put a bunch of things out on shelves and doorknobs, The Reluctant Farmer and The Smaller Boy brought home a load of firewood, and The Bigger Boy has now gone on a dump run (I did have to help him get the car unstuck ... Freezing rain on top of snow is yukky!) and I'm back in my comfy spot for a bit. Soon it'll be time to make dinner, so I have to build up some energy. :)

More tree updates soon!

When the brain is on overdrive

Lately, my brain is on overdrive: scattered, frazzled, hard to focus on anything, trouble remembering things, the usual. After effects from the relapse, I am sure.

My family have been wonderful about helping out – The Boy has done chores for me so I can stay inside and rest, and everyone’s tried hard to help me feel better. I appreciate all their efforts, very much.

I’ve been doing my fibre arts work as a coping strategy: I can’t focus well, though, so I have a bunch of projects on the go and I keep switching from one to another, it’s like being in kindergarten and going from one station to the next! I have a sock in progress out of some stunning yarn from Mayhem and Chaos, the Elizabeth Zimmerman sweater, which is now getting a lace border added to the hem, some mittens, and a hat that I am inventing as I go. Oh, and some merino/silk on a spindle, because, hey, merino and silk makes any day better, much the same way a cup of tea improves even the worst day at least a little bit.

I was at a knitting party last night, working on the hat, and I explained that I had been feeling very scatterbrained and so although I’d looked at a bunch of patterns and even started one or two of them, following a pattern just wasn’t gonna happen so I had to make something up myself.

It was pointed out to me that for most people, feeling scatterbrained means they need to follow a pattern, not that they immediately go off and design something brand new right out of their heads.

Yep, I have a weird brain. :)

But it’s a cool pattern, I think it’s gonna work well. Yes, I’ll publish it when I’m done … if it really does work out as planned. I’ve decided to call it Ekaterin, for Ekaterin Vorsoisson Vorkosigan, from the fantastic universe created by Lois McMaster Bujold. It seems like the kind of hat she’d wear.

Linen stitch. Integrated i-cord. Variegated hand dyed yarn. I think it’ll work.

 

ETA It’s posted on Ravelry now!

Crazy Bird Lady

Kiwi landed on my head. :)

Birds

An online friend recently got a couple of new birdies, and as I read her posts about them I kept thinking … I miss having a bird. I have had finches and budgies in the past, and I always thought they were sorta like decorations only they moved and had a bit of a personality. The small parrot family birds, though … way more than decorations! Little packages of personality and charm and chirp.

So I asked my husband one night if he’d care if I got a bird. He said as long as it stayed in the south wing (which is ‘my’ part of the house) he didn’t care. (Now, when he found out today that I actually DID get birds, he does not remember the conversation … I think he didn’t think I was serious, and just kinda blew it off. Oh well, I did ask!)

Right. So I had permission (well, I thought I did … now I will just have to earn forgiveness), the next step was information. I read about different birds on the web. I messaged my friend with the new birds, and she gave me lots of practical information and sent me links to more web pages. Then I posted on Kijiji (like Craigslist) that I was looking for a bird.

Eventually, I heard from a lady who had two male lovebirds, over 10 years old (they live 10-20 years, so these are senior birds) that she’d inherited from her mother and she was thinking they’d be happier elsewhere. Friendly guys, if territorial about their cage, and they came with everything I’d need. Deal! I went and picked them up today.

They are Kiwi and Melon - Kiwi is obviously the green one, Melon is blue with a cantaloupe coloured forehead.

The house they came from apparently had indoor smokers … everything smelled awfully of smoke, so I got rid of the rope perches, washed everything, put in natural wood perches from outside, and wrapped up a couple of the wooden toys in newspaper, if the stink goes away, then I can use them again. They’ve been on a seed-only diet, so it’ll take some time to transition them to healthier food, they don’t even seem to recognize snap peas or cut up grapes as being edible, but I am sure they will figure it out eventually.

They spent a bunch of time climbing the bars of the cage and cheeping loudly, they are now settled on a perch together and preening, making the occasional chirp. When they get going they are LOUD BIRDS but hopefully once they calm down and get the hang of some of the enrichment toys I plan for them (mostly ‘foraging for food by ripping apart packages with food hidden inside’ type things) I suspect they will be happier.

For the next bit they have to just stay in the cage, everyone has to get used to the change … but they are right beside my chair here and looking out at me and I am happy. :)

And for my mom, who worries about zoonotic illnesses, handwashing and clean cages are important to reduce trasmission risk – and they’re no riskier than the chickens we have outside. :)

As for why I felt like birds would be good for me right now … my friend with the new birds put it really well:  “Birds need things humans need. And its easy to forget for both. We need sun, and air, we need water both for drinking and bathing. We need nutritious food AND treats. We need to be willing to try new things. And we need exercise and playtime. And sleep. I think when humans and birds have those things they are both much happier. And birds have no other purpose but to live and play. You don't have a 'working bird'. Birds are not 'mousers'. They are for the living.”

I’m hoping Kiwi and Melon can teach me something about living.

Relapse

I have had a rough time over the last little while.

I was carrying on in what seemed like a perfectly normal fashion … doing chores once a day (love the new feeders The Boy made, one top up per day is enough to keep everyone fed!), keeping up with the online store, doing my knitting projects, working on the new book … just … you know, living and staying within my limits, not pushing anything too hard.

Then I woke up one morning last week a little bit later than usual, and headed out to do chores without first eating breakfast.

I came in after feeding the animals, and just didn’t want to eat yet. Lunch came and went, I wasn’t hungry.

I made supper for everyone … but I wasn’t feeling up to table conversation so I went in the other room and came back just to do cleanup.

I went to bed early. I hadn’t eaten all day. I knew something was not right.

The next day, I did the same thing. I realized that I could hear Scared Girl in my head, screaming “Don’t stop working, whatever you do, KEEP MOVING!”. I cleaned, I did laundry, I made meals that I did not eat. I made it another full day with no food. I did drink a glass of milk and two small glasses of water. I’d had nothing else for two days and just couldn’t stand the thought of eating, even though I was hungry. Scared Girl wouldn’t let me go near food. Or ask for help. Or slow down.

I went to bed early again. I was miserable. Everyone knew it. They tried to stay out of my way, and I just felt worse.

The third morning, I still couldn’t eat. I was doing every job I could think of, yet feeling completely at loose ends, and utterly terrified for no reason I could identify. The Reluctant Farmer said, “You are safe here. It’s okay.” I yelled at him and said that it wasn’t safe, he was lying, it’s NEVER safe. He actually took it all very calmly, which is much to his credit. I was way over the deep end by then.

Finally, after everyone else had eaten dinner and everything was cleared up and put away … I heated a small plate of spaghetti and slowly, carefully, managed to take a bite.

It was far more difficult than it should have been to put that first bite to my mouth and taste the food. But once I got started, I was able to finish the whole serving … and I reheated some more and ate that too. Things began to look up when I was no longer starving.

I talked to the Reluctant Farmer, a little bit. It was hard. My words would not come. He was very kind and supportive.

I slept. I rested. I had no energy.

I am slowly regaining my strength, but I do not really know what happened to knock me on my backside so thoroughly. It was like the old stuff just overwhelmed me out of the blue, and I was back in the nightmare.

I will see my counsellor in a few days and we’ll see what we can sort out. In the meantime, I am doing only the bare minimum, and resting. My mind is thoroughly scattered, but I’m at least taking care of myself now.

I’m calling it a relapse, for lack of any better phrase. Something just … caught me, pulled me under, and it took a lot of patience, support and strength of will to choose to come back out.

It goes to show that I still have a ways to go to get to full healing, I suppose. For all the breakthroughs in my understanding, for all the insight I’ve gained, all the compassion and forgiveness and empathy I have found … my biochemistry is still fragile, and without proper care and attention, I can be very unwell in very short order.

Hopefully with the help of my counsellor we can figure out how to get me on more of an even keel … maybe what I thought was “not doing too much” was, in fact, more than I can handle. Maybe there was some small triggering phrase or event that tripped me up and I didn’t notice because the reaction was delayed. Maybe we can defuse those triggers, find those boundaries, and stabilize things some more.

At least now, I recognize what’s happening. Even in the middle of it all, I knew I was terrified – which was a step forward. Before I didn’t recognize the fear, I thought I was just angry about being such an inadequate human being. This time, I heard the fear – and although I couldn’t conquer it as readily as I would have liked, in the end, I *did* choose to step towards the light, and I did choose to ask for and accept help. It was really hard, but I did it.

So why write this post, and tell everyone about something so embarassing, so frightening?

Because I have made a commitment to speak honestly about my journey out of the darkness that is PTSD – for the sake of others who walk this road, or who walk alongside someone travelling this road. I want people to understand that even when someone seems to be doing really well, even after they have made the connections and come to grips with the past and found peace with all that happened, there are still obstacles wired into the psyche and the body that can trip you up with no warning. That healing from trauma is a lot more than just “finding closure” or “making peace with the past” – that even after you have thought and talked and written your way through the old mess, the hard-wired, deeply conditioned responses to (frequently invisible) triggers are still there, and those take longer to undo.

I didn’t go over the edge because of anything I was *thinking* … thinking wasn’t even involved. I just … reacted. To something. I have an idea what it might have been, but honestly, even if I’m right in identifying the trigger, it was just an ordinary, every day kind of thing that to anyone else would have been utterly unremarkable.

Yet my mind reacted to it like the dogs to Pavlov’s bell.

In time, and with hard work, we can get that response deconditioned, but oi. In the meantime … one foot after another on this road to healing. I know where I’m headed, and I know I’ll get there. With help, and support, and hard work.

I’m okay now, really. But I felt compelled to write about what happened, because I have chosen not to hide anymore.

Yes, I’m wounded … but I am healing. Verb. Active process. Still ongoing.

Thank you for bearing witness to my journey.

Strategy

I had counselling today.

I got some good ideas.

I have a new strategy.

I know I need to ‘open the door’ to let the old memories come up, and let the old feelings be expressed, and then send them on their way. PTSD is, in lots of ways, what happens when feelings aren’t able to be expressed at the time (because it wasn’t safe, there wasn’t time, etc.) .. and until those feelings have their moment in the spotlight, their chance to say “see me, hear me, let me be..” they cannot go on to peacefulness, but stay stuck, and causing problems.

So, I need to let the old stuff surface.

The thing is, I can’t bring it all up at once. It would be overwhelming and I would end up in Ponoka (the town in our province where the big Mental Hospital is, it’s where you get sent if you are REALLY CRAZY).

So I need to let the old stuff out a little at a time. How do I do that?

Today we decided on a strategy.

I will take my book - Just Keep Knitting - which is the story of … well, my story. Then I will use random.org to pick a page at random and then I will write about THAT part of the story in my journal. But I must write from the Third Person perspective, the Observer, so that I do not get caught in the old story, but I can stand back, and “see it”, witness it, be there to say “I SEE THAT THIS HAPPENED”.

And then I will say, “That day, on that page of the story, it was sad.”

Because really, all of that story was sad.

And when I can find the sadness, the sorrow, that is but one step away from healing.

I can do sorrow. I can do sadness. I know these feelings. They are familiar and comfortable - if painful. They are not fear, not anger, not frustration … just … sadness.

Because really, it was a sad story. It could have gone so differently. It could have been better. It could have been full of grace, full of forgiveness, full of compassion. But it wasn’t, and that is sad.

And I can be sad. And then, when I am done being sad, I can heal.

And so this is what I will be doing next. But only one page per week. No more, or I may overwhelm my coping skills.

So, this is what I will be doing.

And I know you will all be with me, holding my hands, making sure I do not fall, reminding me that NOW in THIS MOMENT I am safe, and loved, and treasured for WHO I AM.

You are part of my healing journey.

Thank you all for being here for me.

Openness

Yesterday, I attended another fantastic yoga and journal writing workshop with Angela Weins of Yoga Inner Spirit.

Today, I am working on my next book – More Beautiful Than Before, an exploration of fibre arts and journalling for self-expression and emotional healing.

Because you see, at the workshop, as I anticipated, things got shaken loose … and I am inspired to work and to write.

Here is a small excerpt from the writing I did … and which will be in the next book, too, apparently.

~

Openness, the card says.

As I began today, I prayed “Show me. Show me what it is that needs to come up to the surface, whatever it is that is lying behind the locked door of memory and fear.”

Openness.

One must open the door.

Allow the memories to surface – allow the feelings their expression. Openness. Not the slamming, closing door, the angry burst of sound as the door hits the frame. Openness is the wind blowing the door open, letting the crystal snowflakes drift across the floor.

Openness is being willing. Being willing to see where things go – to open your arms and embrace the sky. To open your heart and embrace your life. Even if your life is not the way you had envisioned it. When you are open, you allow the Universe to bring change to your world … and what Has Been … it’s uncomfortable. Constrained. Unhealthy.

Openness. Let the wind blow open the door of your soul and deliver tiny crystalline gifts to your heart.