Sorry to have been MIA for so long. On January 9, I flew to Michigan to help my parents out because my mom, as I wrote about in an earlier posting, had a fractured hip. Fortunately, I made those plans because on January 10, she ended up at Emergency and then was admitted to the hospital, where I've been spending most of my time ever since. To keep up on the caregiving side of my life, you can visit my new blog, The Caregiver Chronicles.
Meanwhile, this is a good opportunity to think about self-care for those of you who are juggling PTSD or grief along with caregiving - whether that is for parents, children, or others. The key is listening to yourself and taking time for rest and respite. That can seem impossible at times; however, when people with PTSD add extra stress, it is essential to allow down time and to take care of yourself, as well as those you are caring for. I don't always take my own advice, but I try.
Mary Oliver has a great poem for that. Or you can turn to the words of Julian of Norwich.
All will be well and all manner of things will be well.
And as far as relaxing is concerned, I love morning bird song.
Anger isn't good or bad. It's what we do with anger that makes the difference. This afternoon, I was angry with M. (the father of my oldest daughter - the one with the new girlfriend). You could call it anticipatory anger. Here's why. Yesterday, my therapist agreed that now that M. has a girlfriend, he may not be in touch with me when I am back in Michigan. This is distressing because, as with many people in adoption reunions, I've weathered more than one period of silence and thought we were, at last, beyond that. Last summer M. told me that, "You haven't lost me. Our relationship has entered a new phase." I'm pretty sure that he didn't mean silence when he said, "a new phase." So, I'm angry because I'm afraid that I'll never hear from him again. This is an inevitable - and very real - fear in adoption reunions.
I don't know that M. will disappear, but the signs are there. And so, I'm having anticipatory anger because I'm at home where I have a safe place to be angry in and I hope that being angry now might help to ease the pain I may face in Michigan. (Well, who said I was rational?) Besides, I can't seem to stop what I'm feeling. Not surprising. People with PTSD often fall into negative emotional loops that are hard to get out of. My usual loop is sorrow, shame and self-blame. Maybe anger is a step up, but it still feels painful. Malcom X said, for example, that anger is better than being sad. "Usually when people are sad," he said. "they don't do anything. . . . But when they get angry, they bring about change." Writer Thomas Moore said that, "Anger gives you the impetus you need to change conditions that need to be changed."
So, what is it I need to change? I think my anger is telling me that I need to keep myself safe and not be so open with M. It's not possible to be open to another person and put up a wall at the same time - it's like how you can't simultaneously open and shut a door. That makes me sad because I thought we were making progress. Now, I can see that it wasn't that simple. M. wants to get on with his life and, despite what he said and even promised, probably isn't ready to process the hurt we went through together and be friends, as we both hoped. At least, that's my therapist's take on things.
Putting up a wall won't be easy because trauma survivors have an overwhelming desire to re-write the traumas of the past and create happier endings. When it comes to M., I have this in spades. This phenomenon is known as traumatic reenactment. In our case, this is reinforced by the powerful biological drive to be a family that two people who have a baby together experience. For M. and I, that family was destroyed but the part of our brain that stores trauma doesn't realize that it's too late to become a family now - at least a family that is raising a baby. Which brings me back to anger. I know anger is warning me to go slow and be careful and it is also telling me - which I do not want to hear - that I don't have any control over what M. does. I only have control over how I respond. And that's scary. I'm afraid I'll be too angry to cope at a time when my parents need me to be calm not enraged. Anger can be either constructive or destructive; it all depends upon how you handle it. So far, I'm managing but I don't like the way anger feels and I'm pretty sure that I'm in for another roller coaster ride on the PTSD emotional express. I have that same queasiness in the pit of my stomach that you get just before the car plummets down the first steep slope. Courage, I tell myself, courage. But only time will tell "which of them I'll become" - the out-of-control angry person or the angry person who looks her anger in the face and tries to hear what it's saying.
How do you cope with difficult emotions? Which emotions do you find the most difficult?
Problems are not the problem; coping is the problem.
Virginia Safir
My husband is sick, my mother has a hairline fracture in her hip, and I'm making lists about everything I need to do before I fly to Michigan next Monday to be with my mom and dad. Thankfully, my sister will be there too, as much as she can. For those of you who may think that I do nothing but process grief and trauma, read poetry, listen to peaceful music, and go for walks in the woods (which I did yesterday, by the way), it's not always like that. Yes, I have the luxury of doing that sometimes. And I need that space and time to heal. But right now, I have to put my own concerns on the back burner and deal with more urgent matters.
My husband has a cold or the flu - I can never remember the difference between the two - and he isn't happy! Last night he had a fever and had hallucinations during the night: little creatures shaped like balloons with weird arms and legs running around our bedroom. (Thankfully, I didn't see them too.) He has a more-or-less non-stop cough and a constantly running nose. So, today, I set aside most of the things I had planned to do and went grocery shopping, washed clothes, cooked dinner, and generally pampered him. My son thinks he's getting sick too, but with any luck he won't because he eats enough oranges that I'm surprised that he doesn't turn orange.
My husband's cold (or flu) will come and go. My son may or may not get sick. My mother's hip is a more complex and much more worrisome problem. Her hip fracture is "only" a hairline fracture, but it is in a location where it is impossible to operate on. I haven't been able to the x-ray and I have no medical experience, so I can't quite picture the situation. It's not necessarily life-threatening except for the fact that my mother is 78, has serious osteoarthritis, and is prone to pneumonia. I did an Internet search for "hip fractures elderly women" and wished that I hadn't because the first hit turned up an article on how hip fractures have a higher mortality rate than breast cancer in older women. Not exactly reassuring. It also wasn't reassuring that my sister, who as an occupational therapist and does have medical experience said, "I don't have a good feeling about this."
Put those two things together and I really began to worry. And then Ruthie Foster's fabulous version of the spiritual "Travellin' Shoes" came into my mind. The first line goes something like this: "Death came a knockin' at my mother's door/Saying come on mother are you ready to go?" And then I couldn't get her voice out of my head and I had to listen to the song and downloaded it here so you can listen to it too. It's not that I expect my mom to die from her fractured hip - but she could. It may seem morbid, but listening to this joyful, sad song eases my heart.
One of the characteristics of PTSD, is that people with PTSD tend to overreact to real life worries more than other people do. Emotional reactions explains this process. Needless to say, if I am in the throes of emotional overreaction or having panic attacks, I won't be much help to my sick husband or my mom and dad. This post suggests that it is important to watch your self-talk at these times and be more aware of your mind: in other words practice mindfulness. I already do that and, I have learned the hard way, that during stressful times I have to take extra care of myself. So, with that in mind, I bought some hojicha tea today that a Japanese friend introduced me to last month - Japanese Sleepy Time, she calls it. I find it restful to drink a cup in the afternoon and I plan to take it with me to Michigan. I booked a double session with my therapist on Wednesday and I am creating an ipod playlist for unwinding at the end of the day. I'll think of more life-savers to take along before it's time to go.
Today, I did manage to find time to have coffee with one of my African students and was delighted to receive a beautiful orchid for the New Year. Adit's beautiful smile and the orchid cheered me up and then I cooked a nice supper which cheered up my husband and now, as I write this, I am sipping a glass of wine. One glass of wine, not 2 or 3 or 4. Relaxation is the key, not oblivion. Because that can be another aspect of PTSD - the desire to avoid unpleasant emotions of any sort or to be so afraid of them you have an anxiety attack or try and bury your emotions in a fog of drugs or alcohol.
Here are some words from Thich Nhat Hanh that speak to me right now. "Smile, breathe, and go slowly." I like these words so much that I'm going to write them down, keep them in my pocket, and try and remember to read them as often as I need to and follow what they say. It can't hurt.
Here's another take on the situation: an anonymous verse from the Christian tradition.