Nightmares – A Small Setback

andrew-neel-wwQaXLF6stk-unsplash

I’ve been having dreams, nightmares, whatever you want to call it, I’ve been having it.  It invariably involves one or the other of my past abusers.

My usual nightmare involves It, the narcissist I was with for the longest, the one who caused the most damage, and my PTSD.  It typically involves him returning, and just assuming that the relationship is back on, and I fake it.  I fake it to hide my relationship with my amazing human being – which is basically what I’m doing now, minus the being in a relationship with him part, and more with him being on the other side of the world (THANK FUCK).

My first abuser was in my dream last night.  Then, later on in the dream, I did what I have always dreaded doing.  I said Its name instead of my amazing human being’s name.

Sometimes, in the awake world, It’s name will be on the tip of my tongue instead of my amazing human’s name.  I don’t speak when that happens.  I have almost been away from him for the same length of time as I was with him, but some scars take longer to heal than others.

All of this has … done something to me.  I feel flat and anxious at the same time.  I don’t want to do anything.  I want to bundle up in a blanket and drink tea and watch Forensic Files.

And unfortunately I can’t today.  Or at least not all day.  I have adulting I must do before I can be an amorphous blob.

A Big “Fuck You” Kind Of Day

w-a-t-a-r-i-681684-unsplash

It’s a beautiful day.

The sun is shining, the breeze keeps it cool enough to wear pants, all the animals are curled up and snoozing, and I have a large break from university.

I just want to scream at the world and hit inanimate objects and swear at the sky and flip off the butterflies.

They’ve done nothing to offend me, I’m just having a big “fuck you” kind of day.

It’s one of those days where I feel itchy inside my own skin, as though it’s wrong.  It’s one of those days where my elbow aches and my stomach won’t unclench and I have a permanent unimpressed bitchface going on.

I’ve done some woosah.  I’ve listened to my relaxing music and done my best to let it sweep me away.  I’ve done some stretches to ease my sore muscles.  I’ve stretched my back.  My last port of call is going to be a few minutes out in the sun.

Even though I’m doing all of these things, and they’re not quite working enough, I’m not fighting the feeling of almost manic anxiety and frustration.  Not fighting it takes conscious thought and effort, because we naturally want to push away the bad feelings and not feel them.  Unfortunately, that makes the bad feelings worse, because fighting them is also a negative feeling.

So when I’m having one of these days and I notice myself getting pent up trying to fight off the bad feelings, I take a big deep breath and relax my stomach as I exhale.  I take another deep breath and relax my stomach further, then work on my shoulders, my neck, and lastly my face.  I make ridiculous faces as I stretch out my muscles from their scrowl and reset my eyebrows, the muscles around my eyes (which always pinch when I’m stressed), my mouth and my chin.

And I just do this every time I notice I get pent up, which is every few minutes.

It’s interesting how much of an impact your facial features have on your mentality.  Or the way your body is, how clenched your stomach is, how tight your hips are.

Mental state is tied intrinsically with body state.  They influence one another, and a change in one produces a change in the other.  So it stands to reason that in order to relax the mind, one must also relax the body.

There are many methods of relaxing the body.  I find using music helps, as it gives me an external thing to focus on while I work my way through my muscle groups.  I also find lying in the sun helps, as the sun warms tight muscles and helps them relax.

It’s difficult to not go boneless like a cat in the sun!

 

Photo by W A T A R I on Unsplash

The Power of Music

yvette-de-wit-118721-unsplash

I’ve been having a bit of a crappy weekend.  Things went, but things never quite went well.  I was tired, technology wasn’t working, there’s too much clutter in the house that I just don’t have the energy or motivation to sort out, and I’m feeling a bit sulky because I feel like I’m the only one who does the dishes.  Which is partly true, and something I’m slowly working on.

I’m supporting a friend through a particularly rough period involving a narcissistic friend, and it’s bringing a lot to the surface because of how we’ve both been abused.

I mistakenly watched “Abducted in Plain Sight” and watched a narcissistic psychopath paedophile seduce the mother, sexually abuse the father, and then horrifically sexually abuse the daughter, all the while abusing and manipulating everyone.

I think my amazing human is a wee bit depressed – he’s holing up a bit.

Then It messaged me.  I just about backflipped.  I was not in a headspace to interact with It at all.  I could feel myself beginning to escalate into an anxiety attack.

I decided I didn’t have time for that and went straight to Youtube where, bless their algorithms, they had We’re All We Need by Above and Beyond on my front page.  After the first 20 seconds of letting the music flow over me, I was in a wonderful state of relaxation (okay, there is probably also a lot of emotional repression going on) and able to manage the less than pleasant interaction.

I’m still a bit antsy, it’s one of those days, but I’m a lot more relaxed than I was.

Being Open

katerina-pavlyuchkova-777734-unsplash

I have slowly but surely begun to come out of my shell of …  some of it was self pity, most of it was self care.  Regardless, I have been unclenching myself and allowing myself to be more open and honest with everyone around me about my difficulties.

Some days it’s harder than others.

Some people say “I can cure you, I promise!” and I ignore them, because there is no cure for fibromyalgia, generalised anxiety, and PTSD.  There is only management.

Some of them look at me strangely.  I am sharing too much of myself, and the honesty has made them uncomfortable.  Even the superficial information makes them uncomfortable – I’d never want to see their faces if I were to describe anything in any detail or depth.

And then others say “I am walking the same path you are, and it sucks, and I am here for you”.  They say “this is what I have found useful for me, it may be useful for you”.  They say “I know what you feel”.

It is worth the other reactions to find the ones who understand, the ones who are going through something similar to what you are going through.  Because you need people who understand you, and you need people you understand.  Who speak your language and intimately know the trials you are going through.  There is such compassion in those people.

But there’s another benefit to being open – you’re not bottling it all up.  By letting it out, you’re owning your trauma and releasing it in some way.  I’ve felt lighter since being more open about everything.  It’s a relief.

“I can cure you … promise!”

umanoide-112489-unsplash

The number of times I have heard those words in the last few months since I have “come out” as having fibromyalgia is astronomical.

“I can cure you, promise!”

The first one was from a very pushy relative who exploded my inbox with con-man speak – you know the kind of language I’m talking about, that overly grand and emotive language people at things like the Landmark forum use to hook you in.  “Do it for your mum!” was a big one which nearly made me spit the dummy and tell her to sod off – if I’m going to do anything, it will be for me and not for anyone else, so I can hold myself accountable and not put that pressure on another being.  No one else should be the one I ‘change’ for, that’s unfair to them or to myself.

I was told I had to eat these particular foods all the time, fresh bone broth at least once a day, do all these things, and take all these essential oils and then just keep taking these for ever and you’re cured!

Image result for princess bride i don't think you know what that word means

The second time was yesterday.  I spoke to a friendly acquaintance who didn’t know what fibromyalgia was, so I explained it simply, and then told me she could cure it.

It’s all an autoimmune thing, prozac is causing everything, you shouldn’t be on any medications at all because they’re all bad and they’re all going to destroy your brain and leave you unable to function, look at us we’re over 65 and we’re not on any medication at all because we take supplements and essential oils!  Take these supplements and essential oils and you’ll be cured!

See, here’s what everyone seems to get wrong:  other than pedaling snake oil, to ‘cure’ means to ‘eliminate the disease or condition’.  None of the above are ‘curing’ the condition, because if those things were effective, once I stopped doing all those things, oh look the pain is back.

The first is literally too energy intensive for me to try, and given to me in such an overly pushy manner that I’m just saying no, get stuffed.  It all has a very false feel to it, and it feels to me like if I started down that path, I would just get sucked into more and more things and it would all go badly.

The second is the exact opposite of what I want to do.  I want to stay on my medication.  It is working.  It is helping.  It is not completely eradicating all symptoms, but it is minimising them to a point where I can continue with my life and do most of the things I need to do without being in undue pain and exhaustion.

I’m not against supplements (or essential oils) – I’m taking a whole host of them as it is, and they’re what started this whole journey in the first place.  I am against relying exclusively on them for a serious and complex set of medical conditions.  They are an adjunct therapy, not an exclusive one.