Life after Trauma

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. 

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. 

 

Staying grounded - using self-talk and affirmations to cope with estrangement

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Maya Angelou

 

Moon rise (photo: Timo Newton-Sym, flickr creative commons)

 

 This morning one of my daughters, the foster daughter we raised through her teens, phoned, crying. At first, I could barely make out what she was saying, she was crying so hard. But, as she calmed down, I understood what had happened. Her oldest sister had run into her while she was grocery shopping and began yelling at her about their brother who had killed himself two years ago. "You killed our brother!" her sister screamed. Our daughter (who I'll call M.) was embarrassed, angry, and very hurt. Sadly, this can be a common problem in the aftermath of a suicide: blaming other members of the family. I talked to M. for a long time, kindly, gently reminding her that her brother's death hadn't been her fault; that she was a good person; that I didn't understand why her sister was so hurtful. Eventually, she calmed down and then I told her I loved her and hung up.

Breathe (flickr creative commons)

After I hung the phone up, I was thinking about how I responded to M.'s distress. If only I could be that kind to myself. Well, sometimes I am. Yesterday wasn't one of those days, however. We leave for Michigan in a few days where I will either hear from my biological daughter or not; I will hear from her father or not. The thought of being excluded or, even worse, belittled for not being who they would like me to be, turns my stomach into knots. I dread the thought of being so close, and yet so far away from these two people who are so important in my life. Yesterday, I was quite morose about my powerlessness in the face of their silence. And then, today, after talking to M., I realized that I can talk kindly to myself. It doesn't always work, but when I am able to stay grounded and listen to myself, I feel strong.

I take a small book bound in Japanese paper with me everywhere I go. Inside, I've written poems and sayings that lift me up. "Still I Rise," by Maya Angelou is one of those poems. When I feel raw and hurt, I read the poem out loud to remind myself that I, too, have power. I have the power to choose how I feel about myself. I also have poems by Rumi, Wendell Berry, Naomi Shihab Nye, Mary Oliver and others in my little book. Each poem gives me strength, when I remember to pause and truly take in the words. Sometimes - like yesterday - I forget and lie on the bed and imagine hurtful scenarios in which my daughter tells me she never wants to speak to me again. Or I hear the hurtful words of my ex's last email echoing through my heart. And this is the hard truth: we cannot always please others. We can only stay true to ourselves.

I'm blessed with being in a choir and I've got many songs memorized. One of my favorites is "Storm Comin'" by the Wailin' Jennys. Our choir performed that song at our last concert and from time-to-time lines from the song pop into my head. Sometimes I start to sing the song. Sometimes, I just hear the lines and nod my head in agreement. Below are some lines from this powerful song.

 

Thunderstorm (photo: Harald Hoyer, flickr creative commons)

 

When that storm comes don't run for cover

When that storm comes don't run for cover

Don't run from the comin' storm cause there ain't no use in runnin'.

 

When that rain falls let it wash away

When that rain falls let it wash away

Let it wash away that fallin' rain the tears and the trouble.

(The Wailin' Jennys) 

 Finally, here is another song that I love. It never fails to lift my spirits.

 

 What do you do to help cope with estrangement? Do you have any affirmations, poems, or songs you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them.

How can [birth] first mothers cope when adoption reunions fall apart?

They say everything can be replaced

Yet every distance is not near

Bob Dylan

Lone tree (Bader Al Bassam, flickr creative commons)

 Today is my daughter's birthday. I lost her on this day 41 years ago and didn't see her again until she was 29 and then two years ago I lost her again. I realize that the circumstances weren't normal. After all, when are circumstances normal with adoption reunions? There's nothing normal about a baby being taken from its mother at birth and growing up in another family. This is a huge obstacle to overcome when the two - if the two - meet again. Adoption reunions often unfold in predictable stages:

1. Search

2. Reunion

3. Honeymoon  

4. Pull back (Time out)

4.  Re-reunion and/or

5. Estrangment

Here's a great article from [Birth Mother], First Mother Forum on the ups and downs of adoption reunion.Why do Adoption Reunions Go Awry?

 

Miss you, Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh (Laura Suarez, flickr creative commons)

 My daughter (let's call her E.) and I have gone through all of these phases and, now, we are going through our longest silence since we were reunited. Rationally, I understand the reasons for this: E.s husband died about two years ago; in 2010, her natural father, E. and I were together for the first time since she was born. Both events triggered deep sorrow and anxiety for me. Meanwhile, E. was grieving the loss of her husband. What that means for our relationship is less clear, since she hasn't told me what she's feeling. All she said before cutting off contact was "I'll phone you when I'm ready." The last time we spoke was two years ago, on her birthday, so today, also on her birthday, I'm missing her, frustrated, confused, and have no idea what to do. That's because I don't know if she's taking a time-out or using the silent treatment or some combination of both. I sent her a birthday card and may try to phone her later. May. That would be a big step because she hasn't answered the phone when I called for two years and imagining her ignoring my number is distressing. On the other hand, I'm the mother and maybe I should extend myself further than a card.

What Should You Do When You Are Estranged from an Adult Child?

Knowing what to do, is complicated to say the least. Dr. Joshua Coleman, who works with parents of estranged adult children, has some suggestions.

Why parents should hold back

 

Porch light (photo: Valerie Everett, flickr creative commons)

Laura Davis, author of I Thought We'd Never Speak Again: The Road from Estrangement to Reconciliation, has many wise things to say about estrangement and I recommend her book to anyone who is dealing with estrangement in their own lives. (A full book review to follow in a future post.) Davis describes a strategy which she calls, "Leaving the Porch Light On," that makes sense to me. 

I like to think of it as leaving the porch light on; you are in your home, puttering and content, focused on what you need to do in your own life, but you still keep a warm place in your heart for the person who is gone (p. 306)

Of course, this isn't as easy to do as it sounds. First, you have to get far enough along the path of acceptance and forgiveness, and that takes time. I realize that I need to know more about why my daughter can't "deal with" having me in her life. Sadly, I need to hear this from her, but reading the memoirs of other adoptees can help. I've resisted doing this because they're so triggering. However, if I cannot speak to my daughter, they are the next best thing. So, once I pass through the fragile stage I'm in now, I vow to pick out several memoirs of adoptees and see what I can learn from them. Meanwhile, I'm "keeping the porch light on," through sending birthday cards, Christmas cards, and occasional letters throughout the year. So far, E. hasn't told me to stop doing that, so I will continue.

Finally, a song by Gillian Welch, herself an adoptee. Mary Gauthier is another singer-songwriter/adoptee who has been influenced by adoption. 

 

 

How have you dealt with estrangement from adult children? Have you had any issues with adoption reunion?  I'd love to hear from you. 

 

 

Healing the Earth: Restoring Traumatized Landscapes

There are no passengers on Spaceship Earth. We are all crew.

Marshall McLuhan 

 

 

 

Deforestation, India (photo: Engineering fro Change, flickr creative commons)

 The last post was the bad news. Now, the good news. We don't have to sit back in our seats on Spaceship Earth feeling bad; we can work for change. Scientists have moved on and so should we. They realize that it's too late to reduce carbon before climate change increases and it's time to work on mitigating it. Many have come to understand that we can work to make the Earth stronger and more resilient to face whatever's coming.

In the coming years, we're going to hear more about Climate Change Mitigation, Climate Change Adaptation, and Restoration Ecology. Many mitigation, adaptation, and restoration projects are already going on in places around the world. In today's post, I'm going to look at restoring, what I call, traumatized landscapes. Another term for these landscapes is degraded. All around the world, forests have been cut down and replaced by agricultural, industrial, and urban landscapes. The photo above, shows one such landscape in Rajasthan, India. In Rajasthan,  so many trees have been cut, that women must spend the better part of the day gathering firewood. The women above have to walk one hour each way to get to an area with any wood left - and from the looks of the loads they're carrying, those trees left must be pretty small.

Reforestation, Kenya (photo: Neil Palmer, CIAT, flickr creative commons)

Reforestation is an important part of Restoration Ecology

Planting trees is often  a key part of restoring degraded landscapes. Planting trees in our own communities or yards (gardens) is a good place to start. However, where trees are desperately needed are in places like Africa, China, and South America. A tree planted in a rain forest is also worth more - ecologically speaking - than one planted in a temperate forest. Although there has been some debate about the ability to restore landscapes it has become generally accepted that restoration ecology is a win-win situation for everyone involved: included the restored ecosystem. 

 My Father-in-law's Story

Showy lady's slipper orchid (Wikimedia Commons)

My father-in-law grew up in a degraded landscape in the Saginaw Valley of Michigan. The Saginaw Valley had been clearcut in the nineteenth century, with the exception of a few stands of mature forest in difficult to reach areas. By the 1920s, when my father-in-law was growing up, few trees had been replanted and the landscape was taken up by marginal agriculture and littered with huge pine stumps. Forest fires had come through more than once during the late nineteenth and twentieth century burning second-growth forest. My father-in-law - Albert Augustine or A.A. - bought a 93 acre farm in the early 1940s. The farm, much of which had sandy soil, had about three trees growing on  it, including a beautiful maple that's still there today. Sometime in the early 1940s, the Civilian Conservation Corps began giving out free pine seedlings and over the course of about a decade, A.A. planted 15,000 trees. He had no means to water the trees, so some years most survived and some years, few. By the time I met my husband in the mid-70s, A.A. had his own forest of about 30 acres of white and red pine. It was a beautiful place and, as the trees grew, he also transplanted orchids from areas slated for construction and soon birds and deer began to come back into the area. His final project - and one that has thrived beyond his wildest dreams - was reintroducing wild turkeys. In a way, you could say that my father-in-law was practicing restoration ecology, albeit in a rather crude form. The vacant land that was once filled with only burned stumps became a forest, not as diverse as the one it replaced, but a forest nonetheless. Seeing that forest always makes me smile and think fondly about my father-in-law and his belief in restoring landscapes. 

 Next time, some exciting reforestation projects and how you can support them. Meanwhile, here's an inspirational video about climate change and reforestation. 

  

Wildfires, Drought, and Doom: Global Warming and PTSD

 We're in a giant car heading toward a brick wall and everyone's arguing over where they're going to sit.

David Suzuki

Wildfire, Saratoga Springs, June 22, 2012 (photo: Melissa Hincha-Ownby, flickr creative commons)

Yesterday afternoon, my husband and I were driving down a street near here and a white van pulled out of a gas station ahead of us. I immediately thought of my doctor's patient who is triggered by white vans (which remind him of his experiences in a war zone) and what she said about him struggling with "handling" this trigger. I also thought about how, as people with PTSD navigate through the world, they never know when they may encounter a trigger. These days, I've also been thinking a lot about how global warming can become a potent PTSD trigger. For one thing, people with PTSD may live much of the time with a sense of doom or dread hanging over their lives: who needs real, immediate reasons for those feelings? This is true for those of us in recovery and for people like myself who are living through anniversaries. I know that the climate change/global warming news that we've been bombarded with this summer has heightened my already high sense of anxiety. Don't get me wrong. I believe that climate change is very real and anyone who understands science, particularly physics, agrees with me. What I want to take a look at here, is how events in the real world can add to the anxiety load that people with PTSD already carry.

In this post, I'll discuss the mechanisms involved. Next time, I'll write about ways to cope. 

How can global warming be a PTSD trigger?

 

Worried (photo: Lisa Brewster, flickr creative commons)

 

• Global warming events increase our background level of anxiety.
• Disaster scenarios feed our already shortened sense of a future.
• We may feel powerless in the face of uncontrollable events, which can trigger feelings/memories of our own traumas.
• Climate change denial and silencing may remind us of when we were silenced.
• Like the white van trigger (above), news of global warming is everywhere. 
• Global warming events increase uncertainty about the future and the safety of the world: problems trauma survivors already struggle with. 
• Fears of widespread global disaster are bound to be a trigger.

 The Summer of 2012 in the United States

This summer, has seen more than its share of global warming events and ongoing climate problems, from extreme heat waves to wildfires in the American West to a huge, and spreading, drought in the Midwest. I live on the West Coast and, even here, where it has been pretty normal, there are still unavoidable signs of climate change. Smoke from the huge fires burning in Siberia has traveled across the Pacific and hangs in our air. If I turn on the news, there is often news about fires and droughts and heat waves. All-in-all it has been an unsettling summer. 

Man watering cornfield, circa 1930s, U.S. (flickr creative commons)

 Recent articles, such as, Drought Disaster Declared in U.S have said that temperatures and conditions in parts of the U.S. are worse than the Dust Bowl conditions of the 1930s. It's no wonder I'm feeling on edge. Not to mention the thousands of people, in the U.S. alone, that are survivors of traumatic weather events each year. The larger "elephant in the room," is the realization that our present way of life and the Earth itself is endangered by our changing climate and the political paralysis that has resulted in a non-existent or weak response to looming disaster. But don't take it from me. The National Wildlife Federation recently released a report on The Psychological Effects of Global Warming. I intend to read it after I finish this post. 

But all is not gloom and doom. Next time: how to cope, what to do and what not to do. One of the things not to do - in my opinion - is to wait for a miracle (even if Leonard Cohen makes it sound tempting.)

 

What happens when your child goes through life passages that are PTSD triggers for you?

You cannot step into the same river twice. 

Heraclitus

Standing in water (photo: Leonora Enking, flickr creative commons)

 

 No offense to Heraclitus but even if you can't step in the same river twice, you can watch someone you love step in their own river for the first time. That's what I've been doing this spring and summer - watching my 18-year-old-son fall in love, graduate from high school, and move forward into the next phase of his life. It's unsettling to watch my son navigate the life passages that were so perilous in my own life. I've already written a similar post on the subject, so here's my second take. It's been over two weeks since my son's graduation and, since then, he spent the first night with his girlfriend (while her parents were away) and that, in itself, was a trigger of another sort. I can only guess what happened and to ask would be an invasion of their privacy. I assume, however, that something happened. And that thought is unsettling too. Not that I begrudge them their love or their happiness. Not at all. It's just that watching their love, is a trigger for all sorts of feelings. These feelings are so complex that, sometimes, I can't even put a name to them. I'm happy for them, sad for me and my first love and on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Some days it's not on my mind too much. Other days, like today when we took my son and his girlfriend out for lunch, it's hard to quit thinking about things. And some days I want to warn them: "be careful, love is so fragile, you could lose it just like that, in the blink of an eye." But, of course, I don't because they wouldn't understand.

Planetary alignment

The fact that my son is going through the same events that I did during one of the darkest years of my life, reminds me of a planetary alignment. (Apparently astronomers call this event syzgy.) As much as I understand - which isn't a lot, this is an event when, from our perspective here on earth, three planets are lined up. I'm not sure what astronomers learn from alignments; however, my own alignment has definitely been a learning experience. And that surprises me: that good could come out of a PTSD flashback and it could facilitate healing in ways I didn't expect. Others have also written about this phenomenon. 

Things I've Learned

• First love is precious and fragile.
• Everyone should be supported when they are navigating the passage to adulthood.
• Time doesn't heal all wounds.
• Kindness is more important than most of us realize.
• The things I lost when I was 17, 18, & 19 are irreplaceable. 
• Watching my son and his girlfriend hurts me and heals me. 
• Life goes on and happiness comes again in one form or another.
• Learning from an emotional flashback is better than running away.
• Despite everything that's happened in my life, I can still be sentimental about young love.