Life after Trauma

Separation Distress - coping with PTSD and a crumbling marriage

Somehow we survive and tenderness, frustrated, does not wither.

Dennis Brutus

fly away (Billie Hara, flickr)

Two weeks and two days ago, my husband moved out. We're trying a "trial" separation, which is supposed to last for three months. Despite the fact that we're in couples counseling, I'm not terribly hopeful. Partly because this is the third time we've separated - all for similar reasons. Essentially, my husband can't "handle" my emotions or my PTSD. Even though I realize that this is a problem that many people with PTSD face, that isn't much consolation. At least not now. 

 

Meanwhile, our son and cat and I are living in our townhouse. My husband is living in a one bedroom apartment about two miles away. So far, we're seeing each other about once a week. But I feel like I need a break from that. It's too painful and, in order to get stronger, I need space. Seeing someone who "can't handle me," hurts. When I see my husband, I feel wrong and vulnerable and angry. All that being said, I realize that this is an opportunity of sorts to make progress in my own life. Not an opportunity I wanted, but there it is. So, for now, I can't promise that I'll be doing much writing here. However, if you want to follow my progress in re-building my life you visit me at my new blog Breathing Space. 

I hope to see you there and best wishes for 2013!

 

Why should trauma survivors speak out - thoughts from Elie Wiesel

Even if you remember a spark of the flame, that's enough. Even if you remember one face, it would be enough.

Elie Wiesel

Elie Wiesel (nobelpeaceportraits.com)

In Conversations With Elie Wiesel, by Elie Wiesel and Richard Heffner, Wiesel talks about why trauma survivors should tell their stories. Elie Wiesel, a world-famous author and peace activist who survived the concentration camps of Auschwitz and Buchenwald, gives several reasons. The first, not surprisingly, is to prevent genocide. Sadly, as we are only too aware after Rwanda and Darfur, this hasn't happened. Still, it is a large part of the reason why Wiesel began to write about the Holocaust. 

"We tell the tale of our nightmare and of our darkness in order to prevent other people from entering that nightmare," Wiesel told journalist Heffner. Speaking out, however, is never easy, even for someone who later became a prize-winning author. Immediately after the war, Wiesel found that people were not interested in hearing his story and few other Holocaust survivors were speaking out. Wiesel explains the impact that this response had. 

"The question is really not how we survived the war," Wiesel told Heffner, "but how we survived mentally afterwards, when we came out and we saw that life was business as usual and how few people cared." (Wiesel and Heffner, p. 151) My own experiences with trauma have been similar. Not that my personal traumas can compare to the Holocaust. Of course not. However, my experience has been that people don't want to hear about what has happened to me. 

an early edition of Night (Wikimedia Commons)

Encouraging other survivors to speak out was, perhaps, the main reason that Wiesel chose to write about his experiences. Despite his efforts, however, it wasn't until 1960 that his acclaimed memoir Night was first published in English. Sadly, the debut of this book was anything but spectacular. The initial printing was 3,000 and it took three years to sell the books. 

"When I wrote my first book," Wiesel remembers, "my goal, really, was to reach the survivors, my peers. Why? Because in the beginning they didn't talk. They didn't talk because nobody wanted to hear them. And I wanted to show them, 'Look it's possible to talk, and even if it isn't, we must talk.'" He also remembers that it took "years and years and years" of work to convince Holocaust survivors that they could share their stories. Wiesel persisted, however, and he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986 and was termed a "messenger to mankind," for speaking out about the atrocities of the Holocaust. 

Moving as this recognition was, Wiesel still works tirelessly to encourage Holocaust survivors to speak out about their experiences and to share his own stories. 

 

Buchenwald, Wiesel is in the 2nd row from the bottom, 7th from left (Wikimedia Commons)

 Wiesel acknowledges, however, that - in the end - there is truly no way to make the incomprehensible, comprehensible. "What I try to do is to bring you closer to the gate, and I will tell you you cannot go beyond that - that only those who were there know what it was being there. But come closer . . . and the only way to come closer is to come closer to my memory, meaning the memory of those who survived." (Ibid., p. 115). Wiesel is outspoken about the role of the listener. He suggests that turning away is not a morally or ethically acceptable position. (I agree - more on that in a future post.) 

"To forget the victims means to kill them a second time. We couldn't prevent the first killing," Wiesel said, "but we are responsible for the second one if it takes place." (p. 166) Dr. Kathleen Young also covers the topic of speaking out on her blog. (It's worth reading, particularly the beautiful quote by e.e. cummings.) I've also written about this topic on my blog. See, for example Why Is It Important for Trauma Survivors to Speak Out?

Finally, I love what Danish writer Isak Dinesen (of Out of Africa fame) has to say on the subject. "All sorrows can be borne," she said, "if you tell a story about them." She would know; within the span of several years she lost her lover in a plane crash, had a miscarriage, and lost her farm in Africa and had to return to Denmark. And, she survived.

Next time, more on how - and why - others silence trauma survivors and what we can do about that. 

What experiences have you had about sharing your experiences of trauma? I'd love to hear from you. 

 

A Glimmer of Hope - advice from my therapist

Be not afraid of growing slowly. Be afraid of only standing still.

Chinese proverb

Sunrise (alternatangle, flickr)

 

Two visits to my therapist

Last week my husband and I both went to see my therapist - on separate occasions. Partly, she doesn't do couples counselling, partly we wanted to talk to her separately anyway. My husband went first and two days later, I followed. My husband gave permission for my therapist to share whatever she thought was useful for me to know and she did. We talked for an hour about what my husband was feeling and then she gave me some advice. Now, my therapist is anything but directive, so when she talks, it's usually brief and to the point. "Why not," she suggested, "try and focus on the first part of what your husband's saying? Why not focus on the 'I was overwhelmed and stressed and I'm burned out,' part, not the 'and I might leave,' part?" Great advice. Easy to do?  Absolutely not!

I don't know about you, but for me, fear of abandonment is one of my HUGE triggers. It  hinges on so many other fears and is based not on things I think might happen, but on things that DID happen. I am afraid that I cannot keep myself safe because for many years, I couldn't. Bad things happened and I was powerless to stop them. From a rational/chronological point of view that was a long time ago. From the point of view of the part of my brain that stores trauma, it's still a present danger. "If you're alone," that part of my brain tells me, "you won't be safe."  Only it's more like that part of my brain, let's call it the non-verbal part of the brain, has flash-frozen the memories of my earlier traumas and since it is non-verbal, that part of my brain doesn't understand time and I can't "talk" to it rationally, so it doesn't realize that I'm safe now. That is one way to think about how trauma is stored in the brain. And looking at the process in this simple way, helps to explain why "just" focusing on the first part of my husband's message without paying attention to the abandonment part of the message, is about as easy as not noticing the grizzly bear sitting on your couch.  How am I doing? Even though it's been hard, I've taken my therapist's advice. The alternative was being so stressed out about the second half of the message: the "I might leave" part that I couldn't sleep, could barely eat, and was ready to leave myself, just to get away from the fear of abandonment.  

 

together but apart (.craig, flickr)

 

 So how are my husband and I doing? Well, we're still in the same house and we don't spend nearly as much time arguing. Maybe we aren't under the same umbrella yet, but at least we're on the same balcony. It's a start. Time will tell what the results will be. I'm proud of myself for being able to back off, give my husband more space, and - mostly - not bring up anything about the future. At times, I feel afraid and lonely and frustrated. However, as my therapist suggested, we can work on the fear together - she and I. A better idea than trying to work on it with my husband because fear of abandonment can quickly turn into anger - even rage - at the thought of being abandoned. 

I still have a lot to learn about fear and PTSD. Fear is one of the most persistent aspects of PTSD, particularly complex PTSD, which I have. I searched in vain for an article online that had what I was looking for on this topic. I did find one, however, that does a pretty good job of discussing fear and PTSD. Meanwhile, I see my therapist again next week and we'll talk more about fear and what I can do to learn better coping strategies. And, hopefully, I'll have more to share with all of you. In the meantime, I will definitely get to that series on silencing trauma survivors that I've been promising. 

 

Keeping vigil

A divorce is an amputation; you survive it, but there's less of you.

Margaret Atwood

Keeping vigil (flickr)

I've decided that I'm not going to bed tonight because earlier this evening my husband told me something devastating. I'd suspected much of what he was feeling, but he hadn't been able to say it- until tonight. 

Tonight, at about 7:30 p.m. I asked my husband if he thought he could talk more about what he's been feeling and thinking the past two months, when he's had little explanation for his stated decision to leave me. Okay, he said and I listened. I found it hard to believe that he was being so honest or actually felt this way and so I asked him to repeat it so that I could write it down and he did. In a nutshell, he said that "I am limiting my compassion [for you] to protect myself and to keep from being taken over by frightening, overwhelming, and unpleasant emotions. I want to distance myself and, in fact, I feel like you've been abusing me with your feelings." I was floored. Upon further, discussion, he also admitted that he "just didn't care" [about me] and that he had to protect himself. What could I say? I've spent time before urging him to go to counselling - which he is - and so far, there are few results that I like. Part of me realizes that, if he simply can't handle my PTSD, he has a right to leave. And part of me hurts like hell.

distress (AndreaLeev, flickr)

We have been married for 36 years and have an 18-year-old son who is still at home. My husband pulled away similarly before and blamed me for his own feelings of distress. I was weaker then and hadn't done the work that I've done now, so I fell for it and blamed myself too. I can't do that now. I cannot buy into his story of what's going on because it doesn't ring true for me. Right now, I think I'm in a blessed state of shock. Or, I think, it might even be a step in the right direction, as painful as it is, that he told me exactly what he's feeling and I didn't scream or cry or hit him or tell him to shut up. Meanwhile, he still insists that he's going to meet with my therapist on Wednesday. I can't imagine what can come from that. 

 Is my husband emotionally abusive? Probably in some ways. He's certainly an emotional phobic. Is there hope for change? Who knows. (I thought I would stay up all night, but this makes me so exhausted and sad, that I think I'll go to bed after all. I have sat here for about an hour with a candle lit and drinking some wine. It seemed like the occasion called for it.) I will try to write here as I can, not necessarily on what is happening with my husband and I. I was hoping to start a series on the importance of speaking out because I'm still editing that manuscript on Aushwitz which reminds me that things could be even worse - much, much worse. And we need people with the courage to speak out. I will be reviewing some books and sharing interviews and songs on that theme. And, when I am able, I will have updates on my own situation. 

I wanted to include the Lhasa de Sela song my husband's been listening to lately. Instead, I'll try to include on of hers that I love. Doesn't appear to be there, but I'll leave it anyway. 

 

 

 

 

Compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma, or burnout?

In dealing with those who are undergoing great suffering, if you feel "burnout" setting in . . . it is best for the sake of everyone, to withdraw and restore yourself. The point is to have a long-term perspective.

The Dalai Lama

 

fly away (Anders Adermark, flickr)

Caring for someone with PTSD can be exhausting and frustrating work. Even if the loved one who is caring for you during difficult times has good intentions, they're human. That means that they're vulnerable to compassion fatigue and burnout. That's what's happened to my husband. Sadly, the person with PTSD (aka me or you) may not realize how hard things are for our partner because we are fighting a tough battle ourselves. It may not be our job to care for the caregiver ourselves - indeed many times we are simply unable to. However, I wish now that I had pushed harder for my husband to find out more about PTSD and for us to go to counselling together, while he was still motivated. 

Effects of PTSD on Family

So what's going on? Does your partner have PTSD caregiver burnout or compassion fatigue? It makes a difference because someone with serious burnout may be at risk of leaving the relationship or behaving inappropriately with their loved one. Someone with compassion fatigue - depending upon whose definition you read - may just need a break or go into therapy to deal with these issues. (You'll also notice if you follow the links that these terms are used fairly interchangeably. Whatever term you use the real message is clear: GET SOME HELP!) Joining a support group would be great. Unfortunately, men may be less willing (at least my husband is) to talk to friends and others about how he's feeling. (On the very bright side, he is seeing a therapist.) As with most things, however, the first step is to get someone to recognize what's going on. Because of the anger that can be associated with compassion fatigue/vicarious trauma it may seem to make more sense to blame the person with PTSD and see the solution as "getting away" from them. In some cases, that may seem like the only choice, particularly if there is violence involved. Everyone has a right to keep themselves safe. However, for my husband and I separating would not only be very expensive (we live in Vancouver one of the world's most expensive cities), but ultimately might not solve the problem or, if it does, it would "solve" my husband's problem at the expense of myself and our family. I think that would be very sad for all of us.

What can you do about Compassion Fatigue (CF)?

The answer isn't easy and there's probably no quick fix. The start, as this article on Compassion Fatigue points out, is to recognize that you are experiencing CF or burnout or whatever term you choose to use. The next step, hopefully, would be to get help before it's too late. When I say you here, I mean the caregiver and not the person with PTSD. They are the top priority when it comes to burnout and compassion fatigue. However, couples counselling around the issue of PTSD can be a great choice that helps both partners at the same time. 

Here's an upbeat video about a serious topic.

 

Dr. Frank Ocberg talks about how he sees the difference between compassion fatigue and burnout. He thinks that someone with compassion fatigue is just exhausted. Someone with burnout, in his opinion, needs to either find another profession or take a break. Easier said than done, when your partner is the issue. Time will tell with my husband. I remain as hopeful as I can, but some days it's pretty tough and also difficult not to be angry. All I can do, however, is try each day. I plan to read Susan Johnson's book, Emotionally Focused Couples Therapy with Trauma Survivors, if I can get my hands on a copy. 

Resilience (eatswords, flickr)

 

Flowers well take root in the tiniest amount of soil. I've seen it in the mountains and in the North. Sometimes, they seem to be growing right out of the rock. So, right now, there doesn't seem very much in my marriage to grow hope in, but I haven't given up yet. 

Some final words:

Some things can only happen through time. They only happen - time carries them.

(M.C. Richards) 

PTSD and relationships - when your significant other can't live with your PTSD

More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse.

Doug Larson 

Newly weds (m.a.x., flickr)

I've been missing for a while because I've been going through a major crisis. My husband told me in August, and has since stuck to his position, that he wants to leave me mostly because of my PTSD and partly for other reasons that he, so far, hasn't been able to articulate in a way I can (or want to hear). I didn't see this coming - but who does. I had been doing progressively better during the past year. It's not just me who says that, my therapist and doctor had both been telling me the same thing. Then, what I thought was a successful trip to visit my parents turned into a nightmare (at least for me).  My husband seemed to be taking things in stride at my parents, even when there was tension or grumpy/confused parents. He and our son spent time with his relatives for a few days and that seemed to go well too. We'd been home for about two weeks when my husband dropped the D-bomb.

 

peach pie (annieseats, flickr)

 

It all started innocently enough - as many things do - with a piece of peach pie. I had planned a mini "staycation" for us in Vancouver at a fancy downtown hotel. I thought we should get away together, since we hadn't done that during the summer. We stopped at our favorite bookstore on the way and then I suggested that we have some pie at Aphrodite's (ah, the irony) the organic restaurant across the street from the bookstore. The plan was to share a piece of pumpkin pie; however when we got there, I discovered that they had fresh peach pie. It was peach season and I love peach pie, but only when it's made from fresh, local peaches. So, I decided to order an entire piece of pie for myself and my husband wouldn't order anything. He had been cutting back on his eating - a clue that I missed, I realize now. (A clue of his plans to be single again.) I got annoyed, then angry because we were spending one night on our "mini-vacation" and that didn't seem to be the time to be so inflexible about eating. Besides, he seemed like he was annoyed himself, even pouting, that I'd dared to change my plan over the pumpkin pie.

Things were no better at the fancy hotel. I'd booked us into a boutique hotel in downtown Vancouver, on a quiet sidestreet. Since we live here, I knew the neighborhood and was looking forward to a luxurious night alone. I'd even bought a new nightgown for the occasion and wore my favorite purple top with some linen pants. (My version of dressing up.) At the hotel, I was still mad about the pie, not so much that the pie itself was such a huge thing, but because my husband was hardly behaving as if he was looking forward to spending time alone. Which, under the circumstances, he undoubtedly wasn't. Sadly, I had no idea what was on his mind, so as he continued to be withdrawn and disagreeable, I said, "I really don't know why we stay together." I didn't mean it literally and it was probably a foolish thing to say. He rose to the bait, however, and told me that he agreed and he'd been thinking about that lately. I was shocked. My husband is one of those people keeps things to himself and rarely tells people what he's thinking, until his mind is made up. I was shocked. For the third time in our marriage, my husband had unilaterally decided he wanted to leave without talking to me about it. PTSD, and other factors, were involved in each decision. 

We spent a dreadful and expensive night at that lovely boutique hotel. I didn't want to eat for a long time, then we ordered room service and watched the rest of a pretty good movie and my husband seemed to back away some from the divorce scenario. Or at least, I convinced myself of that. A sort of tentative peace was made - for another week or two. Then we went into counseling and all hell broke loose. (more on that later.) 

For now, I'll leave you with a few thoughts on PTSD and relationships and a small glimmer of hope for myself and my husband.

Below, are links to several articles I found on that ring true for me and my husband.

 Effect of PTSD on a person's life

PTSD and relationships

 

clinging to hope (flickr creative commons)

 

Somedays I have no hope; somedays I cling to the smallest sliver of hope, just like a butterfly or bee clings to a flower. In about 9 days, my husband has agreed to see my therapist who is willing to answer any questions he has about PTSD and her professional opinion about my prognosis. It may help - or it may not. But it's a start.

Meanwhile, I'll try to keep writing here. It's very painful and personal and I'm not sure how often I can do it, but I can't let my husband silence me through his threats to leave and his disapproval of a condition that I neither chose nor caused. 

Silence and Trauma Survivors: Lessons from Holocaust Survivors

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation.

Elie Wiesel

 

Silence (Ciudadano Poeta)

 I'm shifting gears here a bit to talk about silence and the Holocaust for two reasons:

a) I'm working on an editing project with a woman whose father survived the Holocaust, yet never spoke about it.

b) How my husband and I communicate (or don't) about my own trauma is a big issue for us.

 

Alice Herz-Sommer (photo: kultura.gricni.com)

Typically, trauma survivors respond by either remaining silent or by speaking out. My son asked me if there's any in between. I'm sure there are. We're human and some people, such as Elie Weisel, have the eloquence and gifts to write and speak at length and convincingly of their experiences. Others, may not have such gifts and may speak out privately, to a therapist or trusted friend. Those who maintain silence, however, tend to do so more consistently. At least, the stories I've heard and read suggest that that is the case. A recent memoir, for example, A Century of Wisdom: Lessons from the Life of Alice Herz-Sommer, the World's Oldest Living Holocaust Survivor, had few lessons for me and the ones I did glean were not ones I would want to emulate. After the war, Alice emigrated to Israel and held informal musical concerts in her home. Anyone was welcome with the rule that "her visitors must never ask her questions about or speak of the Holocaust in  her home. The years from the time they were deported by the Nazis until they arrived in Israel were not topics for conversations." (p. 32) When no less of a figure than Golda Meir asked Alice about her Holocaust experiences, she replied that, "I never talk about that time . . . I do not want my son to remember. I want his childhood to be happy." (p. 34)

You might think I am being mean-spirited about Alice and, perhaps, I am. However, research shows that silence can be destructive for the children of Holocaust survivors and other trauma survivors. See the article below for more thoughts on this. On the other hand, as Judith Herman (the author of Trauma and Recovery) says, "Because reliving a traumatic experience provokes such emotional distress, traumatized people go to great lengths to avoid it." To speak about something, makes it real. This may be much too painful for some people to bear and, as someone who lost a lot but not as much as Alice Herz-Sommer, I understand that "making it real," by speaking can be tremendously difficult. So whether Alice was protecting herself or her son isn't clear. Whatever the case, she clearly led a long and happy life after surviving, which is a sort of miracle. I don't begrudge her that long, happy life. I do wonder, however,  how she could go forward as though her past were a blank. See the article below for more thoughts on how silence can be harmful: 

 Why Silence Doesn't Work

 

UK Prime Minister David Cameron meets with Holocaust survivor Trude Levi, 2011 (The Prime Minister's Office)

 

Australia has the second highest number of aging Holocaust survivors in the world. Many nursing homes and old-age facilities are helping aging survivors cope with the painful memories of the past and honor them through special programs and protocols. 

Last thoughts: people will try to silence you if you are a trauma survivor, so why silence yourself? The truth is that few people can face the hard truths of such events and, in the case of the woman whom I'm helping with her manuscript, her husband and sons no longer want to hear about what they call her "obsession."  In some ways, I understand this. In other ways, since I have myself survived trauma, I have trouble understanding how a non-trauma survivor feels when hearing about trauma and how I can communicate with them so that they can hear. Maybe I can't. If so, that, too, will be very sad. Tomorrow, my husband and I have our first couples counselling session and I'm sure this issue of trauma and silence will be one of the topics for discussion. (More on our session in a few days.)

What do you think? Should trauma survivors speak out or not? Why is it so hard for people to "hear" them?

Dealing with your loved ones when you have PTSD: Part 1 - Go slow and carry lots of patience

It's taken me awhile to write the next post in the series I've promised. That's because I really couldn't decide what should come next. I identified "the problem," last time and explained where things are with my husband and I. Now what, I asked. I thought I'd start with talking about how your loved one(s) should find out more about PTSD. Then, a conversation I had with my husband last night changed my mind. We talked about how he'd been feeling and why he felt overwhelmed and, as I listened, at first I was upset and then I realized that he was doing the best he could to explain. It was hard for me not to jump in. Somehow, however, I managed to mostly bite my tongue and wait for him to talk and then I didn't respond, I just thought about what he said. (Yes, I'm patting myself on the back.) Easy? Absolutely not. Critical? You bet.

 

Buddha (flickr creative commons)

 My point here, is that the most important thing to do is to go slow. Don't feel like you - or your partner - has to "do anything," right now. Better, in fact, to do nothing. It's like someone said, "Don't just do something, sit there." (Ah, if only one were the Buddha, but one isn't.) There's no rush. We often want a solution to problems right away, but PTSD doesn't lend itself to quick solutions. I have a book on my shelf, The Power of Patience by M.J. Ryan that I've read twice. I think it's time to read it again. Another book on patience caught my eye. Patience: The Art of Peaceful Living by Allan Lokos looks like - from its table of contents - it would be an invaluable resource. In our case, it took my husband three years to get to the point of burnout. During those three years, I did more work with my PTSD and processing trauma than I've ever done. It was exhausting for me and for my husband. Recovering from that intense period won't happen overnight. 

If you're trying to help your partner cope with your PTSD, focus on qualities first and knowledge second. I was going to write this series the other way around, however, after listening to my husband last night, I realized that he's not ready for a lot of knowledge. He's still too stressed and needs space and - yes - patience. Thankfully, I can do that. It's not easy, but it's possible. 

What are some qualities to cultivate?

• Patience
• Kindness
• Ability to Listen
• Compassion
• Empathy
• Detachment (just enough, not too much)

 

Coping (flickr creative commons)

 

None of this will be easy. Turn to other supports if you need help and don't expect too much from your partner right now. This may not feel good. It may feel sad and lonely and trigger anxiety. However, rushing in to try and get your partner to respond the way you want in order to ease your anxiety - which may be running high - isn't the answer. I realize that many people with PTSD can't do this. That's when it's time get a counsellor or therapist to help with the process. My husband and I are doing that too, but, meanwhile, I'm trying to stay calm and mostly do nothing. Wish me luck and I wish you luck too. 

Next time, I'll talk about how you can slowly and gently share information about PTSD with your partner without overwhelming them with TMI (too much information). 

And if you don't have time to read a book on patience here's a great post from WikiHow on Learn to be Patient. 

And here are some "words of wisdom," I think most of us know, sung by the late Ray Charles. (For me, "let it be," doesn't mean ignore it, it means be with it, learn from it, wait for it.)

 

How to cope when your loved one(s) feel overwhelmed by your PTSD

It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it.

Lena Horne

Carrying packs, Nepal (Sam Judson, flickr creative commons)

I haven't been posting for a while because the last week or so has been a very stressful one. One week and three days ago, my husband told me how overwhelmed he's been feeling about my PTSD and my emotional turmoil over dealing with my aging parents. These things are emotional and my husband - as many men - doesn't deal well with emotion. To be honest, he's a bit of an emotional phobic. What that seems to mean, as best as he was able to explain it, is that when I'm feeling intense emotions he feels overwhelmed. He even cried. I was at a loss for words. I really had no idea that he was feeling that way. I knew he was pulling away from me; however, I just assumed it was his usual too much work, not enough time. Apparently, the final straw was our visit to my parents. Things seemed to go well enough, to me, although they were stressful. My husband seemed to take it in stride. Then, about two weeks after we got back, he dropped the bomb. Well, it's not that saying he feels overwhelmed was so bad, it was the fact that he used the D word and I felt like he was blaming me: saying that I was "wrong," to have PTSD. I suspect some of you out there with PTSD - and your loved ones - may have had similar experiences. Call it burnout or whatever you want, it's never easy dealing with PTSD. 

 

Alone (Adrian S. Jones, flickr creative commons)

 How my husband feels

• Isolated
• Alone
• As though I don't care about him because I'm distracted by processing trauma
• As though we are moving in different directions: me inward, him outward

What my husband is doing

• Going for walks alone each evening
• Sleeping in the guest room
• Going to see a therapist - well, he went for the first time today
• Thinking a lot

How I feel

• Afraid
• Abandoned
• Sad
• Empathetic
• Angry

What I'm doing

• Seeing my doctor and therapist more often
• Being kind to my husband and myself
• Paying more attention to my husband and acknowledging his feelings/needs
• Spending time on Pinterest to deal with stress
• Listening to healing music
• Cooking dinner several times a week (an issue that I need an entire post to explain)

 

All alone (Mariag, flickr creative commons)

 

Now what? This issue of living with someone who has PTSD isn't an easy one. It's tremendously complex and not one that can be dealt with in a single post. So, I'm planning a series on the topic. Several of you have been asking about this and I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner. Maybe I should have used the word "help" in the title of this post because that's what we all need. Help, and lots of it. We need to support ourselves, individually and as a couple. Easier said than done? Absolutely. But I know there are good resources out there on this topic and my goal is to find some and share them with you. 

Here's a great article to start with on PTSD Caregiver Burnout. 

A final thought: look for small signs of hope. When I got up this morning, I found a note on the table from my husband, who had left the house early to go to therapy. "Have a good day!" he'd written on a piece of notebook paper. I smiled. 

Pinterest - my new way to deal with stress and celebrate the beauty of life

A picture is a poem without words.

Horace

Mountain bluebird, Alberta (Daniel Ardnt, flickr creative commons)

I have been dealing with a great deal of stress lately. Some of it is related to the estrangement from my daughter and her father, some of it is related to my aging parents, and some of it is related to conflict with my sister, who is the main caregiver for my parents. Taken all together, I'm as close to burn-out as I've been in years. Some days, I feel like I'm going around in a daze: I can't think straight, I don't want to read, and some days I don't even want to leave the house. And, then, if I do manage to begin to feel better the phone rings and it's not good news or I phone my parents and they're not well . . . you get the picture.

 

First smile (Sean Drelinger, flickr creative commons)

 

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things that are good in my life. I am a thankful person by nature and by upbringing. I agree with Meister Eckhart who said, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." And that brings me to my new way to support myself: Pinterest. In case you haven't heard about it, Pinterest is the newest, coolest (in my opinion) social media. It's a platform where you can go and store all the beautiful images you come across on the Internet or take yourself. You store images on Boards by "pinning them," thus, Pinterest. I've started 20 boards so far and I find the daily ritual of searching for beautiful pictures to be comforting. In fact, one of my latest Boards is called Comfort. I've filled this board with images that comfort me when I'm feeling stressed - which right now seems to be about 80 percent of the time!  How can you look at the picture above of a baby's first smile (and it is the genuine first smile) and not see the beauty of life? Well, I can't.  

I've also found calming images, like the one below of Kwan Yin (Guanyin), the Chinese bodhisattva, often referred to in English as the Goddess of Mercy. I could certainly use some mercy right now, as could my parents and my sister. 

Kwan Yin, China (Victor Hu, flickr creative commons)

You can check out my other Boards here. I promise to return to writing more regularly here when I'm able. Hopefully, soon. Sometimes, however, words fail.