Life after Trauma

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. 

A day at the beach - the healing power of nature

For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

Flowers, Boundary Bay Regional Park (photo, Bryan Hughes, flickr creative commons)

 Sunday, we finally got out to Boundary Bay Regional Park. Going there is a summer ritual for our family. When we pulled up in the parking lot, we could see that there was a new building, which proved to be a lovely new concession stand with washrooms and change rooms. We've been going to Boundary Bay for 11 years - ever since we moved to Vancouver. The first time, they were filming, "Air Bud Spikes the Ball," right beside the old concession stand and there were two "Air Buds," on duty, who apparently alternated takes. (For those of you who aren't familiar with these iconic family films, they are about a boy and his talented golden retriever.) We were new to Vancouver then and thought it was cool to see a movie shoot. We're a bit jaded now since most movie shoots involve seeing catering trailers and signs and not much else. 

 

Boundary Bay (photo - Sharla Sava, flickr creative commons)

 Back to Sunday. We staked out a place on the beach beside a large partly-burned log and took off our shoes and socks and headed out into the bay. It was low tide, which was when we'd timed our arrival because at low tide you can walk literally for miles in water that doesn't even get waist-high. I went as far as I could without getting my shorts wet - I need a new swimsuit. My husband, son, and son's girlfriend went further in search of sand dollars, crabs, and whatever else they could see. I moseyed along, alternately walking in the shallow water and on the sand. I could see lots of gulls, dead crabs, the occasional tiny fish swimming through the eel grass, and I even found several sand dollars. Mostly, however, what I found was peace. As I walked in the water, with the sun just coming out and a wonderful wind blowing, I could feel my stress melt away. And, as it did, I asked myself, as I always do, why I didn't do this more often. Well, I bet most of you know the answer(s): too much to do, not enough time, not enough energy, too stressed, etc. And again, like every time, I vowed to get to the beach more often. Not necessarily this beach, but a beach, because beaches are one of my magical places. 

It has long been recognized that spending time in nature is important for people of all ages. Now, doctors and psychologists are "prescribing" ecotherapy, which is just a fancy way of saying, going outside.  A relatively new field, ecotherapy works with people with mental health issues ranging from depression to PTSD. I definitely agree, the living world is a potent healer. Ecotherapy: Healing with Nature in Mind is a good place to find out more. Another good place to go is the website ecotherapy.org. 

 

Sand dollar (photo- Kevin Dibble, flickr creative commons)

 Meanwhile, back at the beach, I sloshed myself to shore, put my shoes back on, scrounged three dollars out of my pocket and went to the new concession stand and sat down with a chocolate bar and a glass of ice water and wrote in my journal. It was heavenly. Then, when the rest of our group got back, we ate lunch and my husband and I went for another walk - on land - while my son and his girlfriend, "chilled on the beach," as they said. Unfortunately, my son also burned as he "chilled," since he'd forgotten to put on sunscreen. All-in-all though it was a nearly perfect day. We drove home around 6, with our sandy feet, sunburned spots here and there, and a haul of 3o or so sand dollars. My husband washed them and they're drying on the patio table. He plans to bleach the prettiest ones and I'm going to package one carefully and send it to my parents and write them a long letter about our day on the beach. I'll save one or two more and keep them nearby to remind me of how nature heals - if we take the time to go there.  

The healing power of gardening

Gardening is an instrument of grace.

May Sarton

  

Gardening (photo - Westcoast Wildlife, flickr creative commons)

Anyone who gardens on a regular basis understands the healing power of getting your hands dirty and spending time with growing things. I'm more of a putterer than a serious gardener, but puttering around on our patio or at our community garden plot can be tremendously satisfying. Right now, I can use more comfort and serenity. Last night, I found some amongst the tomatoes, green beans, potatoes, zinnias, and sweet peas. My husband was away at a conference - he's the serious gardener in the family - and so my son and I had to take up the slack, watering the plants he usually waters.

Watering tomatoes (photo - flickr creative commons)

Horticulture Therapy

 My intuitive sense that gardening is therapeutic for trauma survivors is confirmed by horticulture therapists. There are a number of programs that have been started to work with people who have PTSD. Many of these programs deal with people who have combat trauma; however, the lessons learned can be applied to any trauma survivor. Here's a great story, Dig for Therapy about a program in the UK. Other programs work with elderly people, prisoners, and people experiencing other types of mental health issues. If you don't have space for a garden or didn't plant anything this year, don't worry. You can still spend time anywhere things are growing and get similar benefits. The important thing is to take time to touch and smell whatever plants are growing and, if it's allowed, pick a few leaves or flowers and enjoy the fragrance on your fingers.

 

Sweet peas (flickr creative commons)

A Peaceful Evening

Meanwhile, here are a few of the things I did yesterday:

• Watered the tomatoes, beans, and flowers growing on our patio.
• Watered the Katsura tree growing behind our house that always seems to struggle during the hot/dry part of the summer.
• Walked to our community garden plot with my son and helped water the potatoes and zinnias.
• Explored the other plots, smelling the sweet peas and admiring what others were growing.
• Deadheaded the petunias that are growing in a planter near the local community center - a planter that I'm the official "keeper" for.
• Breathed in the peace and quiet of the cool evening air. 
• Felt good.

 Below is a charmingly low-key video about the Garden Leave program in the UK.

 

 

Worn Out - More Thoughts on Estrangement

For the sword outwears the sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

Lord Byron

Petunias (flickr creative commons)

 I got back from Michigan several days ago. While I was there, I did not hear from my daughter or her father. They didn't phone, they didn't email; there was only silence. While I was at my parents, I was too busy to think about it, but now that I've caught up on my sleep, my thoughts have turned to my lost family. That's how I think of them, as lost. They're lost to me, but, of course, their lives are going on somewhere else, behind a wall I can't scale. It is a singularly odd sensation to be living only blocks from my ex and about a 3o minute drive from my daughter and to know as much about what they're doing as though they lived on the far side of the moon. I pondered this from time-to-time as I lay awake at night in my parent's upstairs bedroom (they've since moved their own room downstairs). It was hot and my husband and I had the windows open and every night around midnight, I would hear a passing train with its mournful whistle and realize that - if he were home - my ex could be listening to that whistle too. And, I also thought about how my daughter and I will probably never be close like my mother and I, or like my son and I, or even like the pair of flowers above. At least, it feels that way to me. 

 

Fly away (flickr creative commons)

 

What do I do now?  I have no idea. All I know is that I need to take a break. As Byron says, "the heart must pause to breathe." The knowledge that my ex (my daughter's first father) sees her and talks to her hurts so much that I cannot allow myself to think about it too often. And so, I'm going to work on detaching from the pain of estrangement for a while. Dealing with Adoption Rejection helped me deal with some of my sadness. I'm sure that I'll read it over more than once because there's great comfort in knowing that I'm not alone.

Mother and son, circa 1940s (photo - Peter Denton, flickr creative commons)

I'll end with a story from another friend. Her father was abandoned by his mother when he was only seven. At least, that's the story he was told. His father raised him; I can't remember if there was a step-mother. This happened in the 1940s, in England. My friend's father didn't hear from his mother again for many, many years. Then, one day when he was in his 30s or 40s, she contacted him. But he wouldn't speak to her and so he - and my friend - never found out about why she'd left. When I heard this story, I told my friend that maybe her grandmother had reasons for leaving: maybe her husband was abusive, maybe she was having an affair and got caught, maybe she even wrote to her son and her ex-husband threw the letters away. No one will ever know because she's dead now. My heart aches when I imagine this woman trying to make peace with her son and being answered with silence. And I also think about how some things can't be fixed: they're too painful for many abandoned children (now grown up) to think about. Avoidance and "not finding out" may seem preferable to whatever the truth turns out to be.

 

Gee, I guess this is a pretty sad post. I hope it's not too whiny, but I remind myself that it's okay to be sad and not being able to see your daughter is very sad. I can't always be hopeful that things will change, especially after returning from a trip in which another attempt at reconciliation was ignored. I'll end with one of the saddest songs I know. (Well, might as well be consistent.)

 

If you are a first ( birth) mother, what kinds of issues have you experienced in reunion? ( if you are in reunion)

 

On Vacation - taking a break

 

Butterfly (flickr creative commons)

 

Hi Everyone,

I'll be away until August 10 visiting my elderly parents in Michigan. It's hot here, but I'm actually enjoying the heat - most of the time - and the beauty of the night symphony of insects and tree frogs that we don't have in Vancouver. I don't expect to have time to post here until I return. So best wishes for the summer.

 

I'll leave you with a poem by Thomas Merton that makes me think of a late summer day.

Grass (photo: Nicholas B., flickr creative commons)

        O Sweet Irrational Worship

Wind and a bobwhite

and the afternoon sun.

By ceasing to question the sun I have become light.

Bird and wind.

My leaves sing.

I am earth, earth.

All these lighted things 

Grow from my heart.

 

I am earth, earth .

My heart's love

Bursts with hay and flowers.

I am a lake of blue air

In which my own appointed place

Field and valley

Stand reflected.

 

I am earth, earth.

Out of my grass heart

Rises the bobwhite.

Out of my nameless weeds

His foolish worship.