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.
One drink is too many for me and a thousand is not enough.
Brendan Behan
When I started writing this post, I began looking around for quotes on alcoholism. Many of the quotes I found were funny. As my son pointed out, drinking can be funny, but not if it's happening in your own home. He knows all about that because one of his older sisters is an alcoholic and during her last stay with us, she had her good days and her bad days. The good days were wonderful and the bad days were disruptive and not particularly funny. One night my son was in bed around 1 a.m. when he was awakened by a voice in his room. His sister had wandered in drunk. "Where am I?" she asked belligerently. "My room," my son declared. "So you say!" she answered. "Mom!" my son yelled and I woke up, ran down the hall and got our daughter back into bed and told her to stay there. Thankfully, I didn't hear anymore that night and another crisis was averted.
For people who have loved ones who are alcoholics, that's what the holidays are like: lurching from one potential crisis to another. If your loved one is one of those drinks-steadily-all-the-time alcoholics, you can plan for that. If they're binge drinkers like our daughter, you can't plan. All you can do is hold your breath and hope for the best, meanwhile trying to be vigilant for signs he or she is drinking. Needless to say this doesn't make for a pleasant holiday - more like Holiday Hell.
Here are some of the ways I cope with my daughter's holiday drinking.
I try not to have expectations
I am firm that I don't like her drinking, but that I love her
I make sure that if she is spending Christmas with her children, they are safe
I send her supportive cards and emails
I do not, under any circumstances, send her money. Gift cards are a better choice
If she visits at Christmas and drinks, I do not blame myself or her
Dealing with an alcoholic daughter, can be distressing. However, I realize that it is much easier than dealing with an alcoholic spouse or parent. Don't try and "hold it together" for the holidays if you think that your partner poses a danger to yourself or to other vulnerable family members. GET HELP. And if you are an older child - let's say a teenager or young adult - the same applies. See below for an excellent post about how to keep alcoholic family members from ruining the holidays.
If you are coping with a loved one who drinks, Al-Anon is one of your best resources. I have to admit that I have been slow to turn to Al-Anon myself. What happens, is that during a crisis I tell myself that I really should go to an Al-Anon meeting. Then, once the crisis passes, I get busy and forget about my resolution. However, if you read the post below, it may convince you to do otherwise. I have made a resolution to attend Al-Anon meetings in the New Year and this time I mean to stick by it. So, if you are dealing with stress related to a loved one's drinking this holiday season connect with Al-Anon
Maybe you are the alcoholic and, if so, my heart goes out to you. I know a great deal about the heartbreaking struggle alcoholics face once drinking is no longer fun. I have listened to my daughter's tears, her anger, and her despair. The holidays are a lethal time of year for alcoholics and they can use all the help they can get. The bottom line, however, is that if you are that alcoholic, you have to reach out for help. The hard truth is that only you can stay sober. No one can do it for you no matter how much they love you. That being said, it is important not to beat up on yourself during the holidays. Increasing the pressure, when there's already more than enough to go around, won't help. Coping with the holidays is just plain hard work, so take a deep breath and write down these words by the Dalai Lama: "Whenever possible be kind; it is always possible." Now, hold onto that piece of paper and read it whenever you're in a self-hating mood. And DON'T follow Amy Winehouse's advice about rehab, no matter how catchy the song may be.
Last, but certainly not least, what if you are the Adult Child of an Alcoholic (ACA). You escaped the holidays where there was more fighting than fun, when you had to hide in your room when things got tough, when there were more bottles than Christmas presents, but you survived. For you, the holidays are a minefield of triggers that bring back the grief and trauma of the past. If so, don't feel obliged to act HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY, when what you really feel is SAD, SAD, SAD. Check the link below for more advice.
Nobody can do everything, but everybody can do something.
Unknown
Yesterday was not a good day for me. My husband and son went to get the Christmas tree and I stayed home and got the space ready where it was going to go. When they got home, I felt disagreeable and tense, which ended with my husband and I having an argument. Today, thinking back over why I felt so stressed, I decided that, along with missing my daughter, it was about unreasonable expectations. This is my son's last Christmas as a "child." Well, he's hardly a child; he's a 6' 1" tall, athletic young man who will be graduating from high school next June. He probably isn't going away to university, still, the clock is ticking. After more thought, I realized that my expectations for this Christmas are not realistic. I want this to be the "perfect" Christmas, because it feels like "the last" for our little family.
I shouldn't really worry about it anyway, because the first Christmas with our son may have already been the "perfect" one because everything was new. Our foster daughters always went home for Christmas to be with their first families and I didn't have the opportunity to raise my daughter, so having a baby to share Christmas with was magical. We lived in the Yukon then. Our son (B.) was 10 months old and he was fascinated by the set of Swedish angel chimes we had. He would stand near the table they were sitting on and watch, rapt, as the candles heated up and the chimes spun. We had to watch so that he wouldn't try to grab the candles and burn his hands. Of course, he also had other fascinations, including his discovery of mandarine oranges, which he still devourers at a prodigious rate and his love of the Christmas tree lights and toys, and, well, you get the picture.
On Christmas Eve, we had friends over and enjoyed a casual meal of lasagna and salad and other goodies. Then we went to an ecumenical service. B. loved the music, but got restless during the quiet times. Christmas Day we opened presents, phoned family and took a nap. The only present that I remember was the large plush hand-made dinosaur that I got at a local craft fair that was as big as B. We still have that dinosaur upstairs in a basket of stuffed animals that B. is still unwilling to part with. It was a gray day that first Christmas and minus 26 Celsius, not suitable weather for a walk with a 10 month-old-baby and so we enjoyed ourselves inside. On Boxing Day (a holiday here in Canada), we went to an open house where there were other children. B. received a wooden teddy bear ornament to hang on the tree, which we still have. (photo above, B.'s first Christmas)
Flash forward to Christmas, 2011. Yesterday, my husband and son got the tree, which they always do. Happily, I can delegate that task to them because I have unpleasant memories of my parents fighting about what made the perfect tree. I always declare whatever tree my two guys come home with: maybe the best ever. And, from my point of view, it is. I'm easy about that part of the Christmas routine. What I'm not happy about is the unrealistic to-do list that is running through my head and interferes with my ability to relax and enjoy myself. I'm pretty sure this is a woman thing. Some men may take on a larger role in preparing for the holidays, but that's the exception. Most men are like my friend M.'s husband, who she said, "Didn't even seem to notice that it was Christmas-time." My husband helps with the Christmas tree and, thankfully, likes to cook. Gifts, organization, cleaning, etc., etc. is up to me. Fair? Not really, but, left to their own devices my husband and son wouldn't care enough to clean the house. It matters to me and so I do it.
Why not simplify? Simplifying isn't as easy as it sounds. I took a look around the web to find a good article on simplifying and, to be honest, many of them seemed like more work than not simplifying! Just reading these "How to Simplify" to-do lists made me tired. Whew! I did find one post that seemed to get to the heart of what simplifying should be about, so I'm sharing it.
