Archive for the 'PTSD' Category

In the Hospital for SLE and Fibromyalgia

Published on February 10, 2012 in Art Therapy, Medical and PTSD. 0 Comments

On Friday I went to an art opening with a friend and it was fantastic. I didn’t want to go at all and started to cancel because my pain level was at a 9 and rising. Despite that I went and I’m happy I did. What happened later was that I ended up in the ER because the pain level hit a 10 and I simply could not take it. I said weeks ago that I’d considered going to the ER but didn’t, this time I did. When I got there they looked at my records and asked a few simple questions. They asked how I usually manged my pain. I answered honestly then told them that my usual method wasn’t managing this flare up. He asked when the last time it was I came in for a “cocktail” and I told him it had been awhile. According to my records it was 2 years ago.

No social workers showed up and no questions about my mental health were posed. They asked one major question: What can we do to help you? I asked for a one time cocktail that would relieve the pain enough that I could manage it again. With that I was given a shot of Morphine, Demerol an injection of Prednisone. They then had me swallow two pills for nausea and gave me two percocets. This cocktail could knock out a horse but I was wide awake the whole time.

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Inspired Love List

Published on February 2, 2012 in Emotions, For the Record, Letters Home, PTSD and Trust. 2 Comments Tags: , , .

I ran into a journal entry called Love List on the blog MotherLovely. For those of us with serious mother issues read the title again. It does NOT say motherly love, it says mother lovely. Anywhooo, the entry talks about looking around your house and noting things you love about your home. I like her idea for a number of reasons but for my purposes I’d like to change the angle a little bit and direct it to PTSD. She listed things in her home that she loves but I’d like to list things in my home that make me feel safe, secure, comforted and grounded.

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Smoke and Mirrors

Published on January 27, 2012 in Anger, Anxiety, Art Therapy, Dehumanize, Emotions, Fear, Female Sadist and PTSD. 0 Comments

After writing my last entry and quoting my mother as saying, “Would Mommy approve?” I got a bit irritated (?) so I ended up working off that emotion by writing.

My mother refused to allow us to call her anything but mommy or by her nickname given to her by my father. As an older teen I hated calling her mommy. As I type the word my nose is turned up like it’s the most disgusting word in the world. It feels as if she kept me “little” by using that word. Oh man I can’t explain how disgusted I am by that word. It’s just that she forced it. We had to call her that and she would tell people we called her that. My girls are such and such of age and still call me mommy. Of course we did, it was a requirement. It was a requirement the same as saying Yes Ma’am and No Ma’am. I have no objection to using those terms of respect. As a matter of fact I still say them, it’s just that hearing myself say it to her makes me sick.

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J is For Joan

Published on January 26, 2012 in Art, Art Therapy, Emotional abuse, Female Sadist and PTSD. 1 Comment

Dr. D: When you get into situations like that ask yourself, “What would Joan do?”
Me: Maybe I should get a WWJD bracelet.

When he suggested I ask what Joan would do he couldn’t see the …contempt …the utter disgust on my face at the thought of it. OF COURSE a mother issue is involved because the woman actually said to me, “See me in your head and ask yourself, “Would mommy approve?” I will no longer gauge my behavior based on some human figure lurking behind me, over me, scrutinizing my every move.

When I was a child and even now I can picture my mother’s face right over my shoulder. She’s deadpan, as usual so I can’t tell if she approves or disapproves. It was a guessing game to figure out what was acceptable to her.

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Art Therapy: Changes in Black and White

Published on January 20, 2012 in Anxiety, Art, Art Therapy, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotions, Female Sadist, PTSD, Secrets and Confessions and Therapy. 1 Comment

I wasn’t feeling all that calm or collected at the time of these particular drawings which were done with an ink pen or black gel pen.

When I first moved here I thought to myself, my goodness, I’ve gone from the pan into the fire. For a minute that might have been true but its far from true now. For just a moment it was rough.

At first I decided not to do any more end of life foster care for animals or feed newborns. I figured it might be okay to babysit from time to time but I’ll limit that as well. I briefly did foster care for a 15 year old male tabby. His photo is among the sketches. Seeing that boy roll around in catnip was priceless!!! Ever seen an old cat drop about 14.5 years in a few minutes? Yeah, that was pretty awesome.

Some of my issues are the same, which I expected. I expected anxiety and stuff like that but I never expected to end up at my going to my mother’s house.  That blew me away.

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A Face To My Anger Pt1

Published on January 19, 2012 in Anger, Emotions, Female Sadist and PTSD. 0 Comments

One of the reasons I really like having speaking engagements, interviews and the like is because I often get asked a question that really makes me think. One question asked by a student at a local college has stuck with me since the day she asked it. I wrote one entry and touched on it but the question has been in the back of my mind because I’m not certain I entirely answered it. I may not see that young lady again and she may never get to hear my answer nor may she ever understand the importance of her asking it.

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A Face to My Anger Pt2

Published on January 19, 2012 in Anger, Art, Art Therapy, Emotions, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 4 Comments

……… My mother isn’t a mystery to me nor is she one dimensional. She is concrete which makes her a lot easier to me angry with.

Mother anger issues:

I have more memories of her than any other family member; including my older sister which may be one reason my anger towards her is stronger than other family members.

I was intrigued by her. I thought she was larger than life only to find out she was just another sadist in a dress.

I feel lied to. I feel as if my childhood was filled with lies by her and that I’m just now unraveling them and finding the truth. Each truth I find seems to bring up a little more anger for her.

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