Release the Toxins!

Years ago, my boss sent me a few doors down in the posh, high end "Village" where we were located to enjoy a full body massage. I remember being so excited, never having experienced a professional massage, and initially, a bit intimidated and a little out of place, but once I relaxed and gave in to the moment, it was pretty fantastic! It was very intense, in totally good way, though I did have to instantly have her stop working on an area in my feet, which is linked with my back and initiated some serious discomfort, but aside from that, it was wonderfully peaceful and relaxing.

Until I left.

I was dizzy, totally nauseated, and just felt completely awful. It was explained to me that this was likely due to the toxins that were released into my body during the massage, and my boss promptly sent me home to rest for the remainder of the afternoon. Needless to say, I’ve never gone for another professional massage!

 It occurred to me today that all of this deep work that I am doing inside of myself is quite similar to that massage.

I’m working muscles I’ve not used before, or not recently, putting strain on them, and then attempting to make repairs and heal those muscles. I’m digging into thoughts and feelings that have been buried far below the surface for a very long time. I’m exposing them, bringing light and truth to them, so that I can find release and healing. (Sounds a lot like the physical aspects of that massage!)

My mind is foggy and I am feeling terrible physically. It’s just like how I felt when I walked out into the sunshine after that massage years ago. I feel drained, sick, physically ill, and just YUCK.

I see similarities in the then and now, which has given me the impression, a vision of sorts, that my process of healing and that massage really are quite alike.

 All this trauma drama that I am sifting through is literally toxic shit that has been stored inside of me for a VERY long time. As I have gently massaged, poked around, unearthed… stuff and thangs… I have opened up several “cans of worms”, emotionally, in the process; I’ve begun releasing the toxic shit. I think right now, what I am feeling, like the aftermath of that massage, is the toxins swimming around inside of me.

This is a good thing. It tells me that the process is fully in motion, and that I am actually healing mentally and physically.

I’m working on the sore spots, bringing some comfort, and easing the pain. This is causing things to relax in there, which is allowing me to begin letting go of the toxic shit. Now I’m currently in that next phase, the “feel the feelings”, walking through the feelings to get to the other side, stage. As expected, it feels really shitty here, like reeaaallly gross, but I know, I am closer than I have ever been in my life to truly accepting and letting go of all the chaos and pain that I have been carrying.

I recognize that this is the time for even more gentle self-care and patience with myself as I walk through this leg of my journey. I have a lot of absorbing and accepting to do inside, and it’s time to comfort, forgive and be truly honest with myself.

"It's Like Taking Buckley's..."

Last week I hit the eight months mark of this healing and recovery journey of mine. Eight months without a drink, and eight months of finally looking at myself, my thoughts and behaviors, and working to make healthy and positive changes.

I’ve had the usual daily “life” stuff, raising my child, working towards getting back to work, and turning forty to deal with. Beyond that, I have also faced deeper, dysfunctional family issues, three deaths in the family, situations and emotions surrounding my ex-husband, and the break-up of a relationship.

Much to my surprise, I haven’t fallen on (too many! LOL) old behaviors, drank, or done what I previously would have assumed to be the only option; I haven’t crumbled to my knees! Well, its close some days!! LOL But in a vastly different and less threatening manner.

During these eight months, I have found it (knock on wood!!) far less difficult than I imagined it would be to get through it all without a drink. I’ve been feeling the feelings, living life on life’s terms as they say, and so far, I seem to be surviving!

I have become more aware of, focused on, and am working at healing other areas of my life, outside of the alcohol, or maybe because of the alcohol?, where my toxic, unhealthy thoughts and behaviors continue to wreak havoc.

I find myself in moments, where I can laugh (or emit a sound that slightly resembles a laugh, perhaps a snort, or maybe some other sarcastic, pfffft, like sound), recognizing what has truly come up for me, and am easily able to change it around and re-frame it into a healthier thought or action. Other times, the moments prove to be a little more difficult to accept and work through.

I’ve been consumed by the depth of some of what has come up; I have sat absorbing it with tears streaming down my face, feeling raw and worn to the bones.

I've also been filled with pride, and reminded of the strength, courage, and wisdom that already exists within me.

I keep going to my groups, CAB and Smart Recovery, counselling, talking, reading all kinds of books, writing, painting, meditating, working with my crystals, and feeling all that comes up.

I am doing it.

It sucks. It’s hard as shit. It hurts terribly.

But I am doing it.

And I AM healing.

With a smile on my face, I reflect over the words someone spoke in CAB on Friday, “It’s like taking Buckley's, all this work… Tastes and feels like shit, but it works.”

Single Mama Rant

Despite the growth I have been experiencing on my healing and recovery journey, the hard work that I’ve been doing, digging into myself, my thoughts and behaviors, there is still one area that is kicking my ass. Royally.

The role that I am in, “The Single Mom”.

These days, the role is eating me up inside, it’s overwhelmingly consuming and crushing me.

I remind myself that I am not the only one in this role. I remind myself that there are others with more children than my own, one daughter. I remind myself that while we have experienced hell, there are others who have gone through worse to get here. I remind myself that these others, moms, dads, aunties, uncles, grandparents, friends, etc., are in the same boat as I, and they are succeeding. I remind myself that I am strong. I remind myself that I am capable. I remind myself that it will get easier. I remind myself that I am doing the best that I can.

I am trying.

The struggle is real my friends.

My nights lately, intended for reviewing the personal work I am doing, catching up on homework (I am doing my English 12, and just started 2 online courses to brush up on my skills in the areas of computers and the fundamentals of being an Administrative Assistant), and quiet time to wind down with some self-care, have turned into a war zone, leaving me with little time to catch my breath or get a decent sleep.

I sit on the couch crying, the weight of my responsibilities feeling as though they are crushing me, and, as was the case last night, with the music LOUD, the fan on high, in attempt to drown out my daughters nasty screaming and wailing, and the urge to scream at the top of my lungs while running out of my apartment.

The yelling and friction between us have surpassed anyone’s comfort zone, even beginning to frighten one another, so really, releasing a blood curdling scream is not an option, nor is running away.

I know others can relate to having another parent in the house who really doesn’t contribute to their role in the family, in any physical or emotional manner. But, because you both created this child, you don’t feel completely alone or misunderstood in your hopes, plans, beliefs about the child. Until you are alone. Then, I know others can continue to relate to finding a partner who steps in to take on a parental role, thankfully, and wonderfully, but we still feel alone on the deeper levels of parenting this child who was created by two, then left with one.

And I know there are others who have experienced both of those situations, and then still find themselves where I now am: ONE. SINGLE. PARENT.

The strongest words racing through my mind lately?

OH. MY. GOD. HOLY. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUUUUUCCKK.

(followed by huge tears and sobs, deep breaths, and loneliness)

I recognize the elements of age/stage that are present; the “normal” tough stuff. I am aware of the effects on her from the grief, loss and traumas that she has experienced. I realize that she has seen people treat her mom in unhealthy, unsafe and negative manners. I accept, with a giggle, that she IS my daughter after all; those who know me… LOL But, there is another side that I see too, a darker side that regretfully reminds me of her father, though I would NEVER say that to her. A side that is beginning to resemble a person who bullies her mom, a negative, unaccepting, unwilling, take no responsibility, constantly pointing fingers to blame side.

This “side” of her though, is beginning to feel like it might break this single mama.

Beneath the crushing and suffocating weight, overwhelming tears and need to vent, I continue to maintain vigilance. I continue to reach out to our counsellors, friends and family, I read anything “parenting”, and I just keep trying, one foot in front of the other.

I am determined.

The cycles end here. The healing begins. I will, and AM showing her a better way. I am sharing tools and skills with her. I am conversing about the tough stuff with her, attempting to ensure open communication with her for when the “big” stuff comes along.

One day, I remain hopeful, she will fully understand and appreciate this “role” I currently struggle to fulfill. I hope that she will be proud of me, for kicking ass at BEING a “single mama”.

The Death of "Insidious" : His Return

Insidious: “Alluring but harmful” 

That is one of three definitions found on Word Hippo, and a very good way of describing this particular “Insidious” problem of mine. MY personal definition: when something IS insidious, it is like a hidden system of veins, as it stealthily seeps its way in, and around its target. It begins as a mere trickle, but given the opportunity, it’s flow surges, gaining power, and it becomes a debilitating force in the end.

I introduced the monster on my back, "Insidious", in my previous post, Vulnerability, Values, and "Insidious". That day I (we) worked to truly put a face to him (our inner demons) in Day Program was, undoubtedly, an extremely difficult and draining process to get through, and thankfully, the second part to the work, was held off until the following day.

The writing meditation (we utilized different types of meditations each day, to expose us to something new, and to start firing some new connections in our brains, speed up some of our healing, by utilizing the creativity inside of us) that we did the next morning was prompted with “Write a Letter to your Gremlin/Demon”.

I gladly, and proudly share with you the letter that wildly erupted on paper (and YES, it is highly vulgar). 

(I am working on “vulnerability”, being open and authentic, true to myself, and, I also believe/feel that in sharing our stories, in the raw, we extend opportunities to inspire healing in another. We have the power to help someone, without having any knowledge of that fact, with our words.) 

I called him out, and announced his fate!!

Clearly, expending that kind of energy was an incredible procession through hell, and I desperately needed to have some type of closure to the process itself. I suggested, wheedled, and then successfully encouraged the others to join me in my request: I felt it would be extremely healing, and supportive of one another in case of overwhelming emotions, to burn our letters; to have a ceremony around the release of these gremlins.

We went outside, with a garbage can, and we each took a turn tossing our letters and pictures into the fire, uttering whatever words we needed in our own moment above the flames.

I felt so empowered in that moment. I felt lighter. I finally felt free.

Having identified “Insidious”, addressed him, and given him his walking papers, I still knew that these demons are relentless, and they really don’t like to be denied or ignored. I knew that I would have to remain vigilant in keeping "Insidious" away. I continued on with the daily grind of my recovery and healing, learning new tools, trying to continually be mindful and AWARE of my thoughts and behaviors, and tried to catch myself whenever I could sense his presence.

I really worked hard at being cognizant of, and catching my thoughts, AND busting "Insidious". I began to, have fun with it; proudly laughing at him, throwing him the finger over my shoulder and telling him: “Ha Ha Ha!! Nice try!! But, F@#% OFF!!” I enjoy it. I find it quite satisfying.

Recently though, in addition to simply having to deal with life on life’s terms, and “feel the feelings” (oh the joys!!), I just really began to feel off. Balance, self-trust, and self-care/self-soothing have all been a lot of work in trying to establish, and I’ve been practicing being kinder and gentler to myself. I really do have a very powerful propensity towards, an often twisted, sense of “perfection”, and I “have a tendency to be”, AM “extremely hard” on myself, but I really began to feel like I was being too gentle with myself. I found myself easily making excuses and avoiding little things; all of which begin/began to slowly pile up, with a little red flag sticking out the top.

I began to wonder, and paid a little more attention to what I was feeling vs. what I was doing, loudly questioning myself, my decisions and thoughts… I felt that Insidious had begun to move back in. Like a spider, he had spun his intricate, detailed, and well-planned web, again, and I, like a little bug, was becoming sticky, almost stuck.

“He’s trying to weaken me, keeping me home, feeling low, b/c “it’s ok to be gentle with myself right now”. He’s really done his homework, and he’s trying to use my new knowledge and skills against me. I say “Fu@% YOU!!” each time I catch him lurking, but he’s pretty sneaky these days. He’s messing with my motivations and sleep, he’s urging me into lazy and smoking a lot, he’s not wanting me to eat, and especially not healthily. He’s got me procrastinating, putting off, avoiding, making excuses, and rationalizing. Shit! He’s making a real go at trying to bring me down again! COMBAT! I beat him before, and I will AGAIN and AGAIN if I have to!! So, given what I know, I now need to make a plan! I need a safety, action plan to bury him!! I’m not playing with you INSIDIOUS!! I AM STRONGER AND SMARTER!!”

I wrote that last week, after the last, very powerful, Smart Recovery session.

The next day, at CAB, I had the opportunity to REALLY work with "Insidious". It turned out to be the most intense, eye-opening, WOW., experience that I have had so far in this journey of mine. (and it happened in a room full of mere strangers!! Talk about allowing myself to be vulnerable!!)

I Finally Joined The Team

I have had an amazing and dedicated team of Nurse Practitioner's and a counselor (along with a few other wonderful clinicians and supporters in the clinic) working with me for about 4 years. I am so full of gratitude for their commitment and belief in me, even when I couldn't find it within myself. 

I initially began seeing the team after the volatile separation from my husband, for health and safety concerns and issues, and I believed I was ready for counselling support. I knew that nothing I’d been doing thus far had been working for me; my life was out of control, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. I needed to do something different. I had little faith in counselling and zero interest in anti-depressants, but as I sought Ativan for my anxiety, the team convinced me to give anti-depressants another shot as well.

Again, nothing stuck, and I quickly fell back into my usual methods of “coping”, irrational thoughts and behaviors. I created a new “normal”, immersed myself in others, drinking, and working enough to cover my ass. I, somehow, managed to home school my daughter, successfully. We were rarely home, as I preferred the company of my “little village”, the quiet of the country, the lack of perceived
 expectations and demands, the complete distraction from my life, and all the things that desperately needed healing inside of me.

The anxiety began to creep out of control shortly in the month before my friends heart attack, and afterwards, I instantly fell apart. I had a desperate “need” to be helping and taking care of others, to have some sense of control, and to distract myself from my thoughts and feelings. I completely sacrificed myself, my life, my role as mama, the relationship with my daughter,my physical and mental health… I used up all of my resources and fuel, everything I had in me.

And then there was nothing left to give.

I couldn’t function. I couldn't sleep, but when I did, I suffered from violent and horrific nightmares revolving around my ex-husband. I had anxiety and panic attacks so intense I believed, truly, that my heart was going to fail me. There was no medication that was helping the intense pain, pounding, and racing in my heart. I was sure that my heart was going to explode. I was paranoid about dying, and stopped taking Tylenol, Advil, and anything for colds or sinuses, convinced they would give me a heart attack. I started having trouble going anywhere because the panic and anxiety attacks were too severe. The tears wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. My skin crawled, from the inside out. I trembled like a leaf. I couldn’t stop my mind from frantically racing. And I just couldn’t be around people; which, of course, added more stress to the already unhealthy dynamics within my relationship with “the boyfriend”.

I had no idea what to, I knew there was no way I could continue the way that I had been. I needed help.

I went back to the clinic, my team, begging for help. I was “finally ready” to do whatever it took, "arms wide open", to deal with everything I needed to. Anything to get “healthy and happy”. I got on board with finding an anti-depressant, all of the heart tests, breathing tests, all kinds of tests, beginning to learn about grounding and mindfulness, CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), and I explored my marijuana use. Whatever they began to throw at me, I was willing to try.

Except for one thing.

I was resisting any conversation about my relationship with the booze. I had endless excuses and stories to offer instead: “I quit before, I can do it again”. I was just in a “rut”; I could and would eventually pull myself out.  I just got stuck in the “routine” of it sometimes. It was a “bad habit”. I'd say I was "aware" that it was an unhealthy relationship. I was just on the roller coaster while I slowed down. I'd get the drinking back under control “soon”. “I’ll think about it.” It was always later, tomorrow, next week, next month; never RIGHT NOW.

After receiving much prompting from my team, that Summer I started (and graduated) a 
Pre-Employment program for women through the Elizabeth Fry Society. I learned new skills, tested myself strongly while earning several certifications, and took in a whole lot of, I guess, personal growth?, classes.  I was feeling good about myself, remembering my strengths, and confident that I was finally making some bit of progress.

It had taken about 6 months, but my anxiety began to come down to a manageable level, and I was feeling proud of myself while in the program, but the unhealthy thoughts/behaviors and dependency on alcohol continued to slip further out of control. 

The boyfriend and I struggled, and continued our tug o’ war dance; but he was also a huge support in many ways. He helped with my daughter, cooking, other parts of daily life I struggled with, he was a positive influence regarding my irrational thoughts, getting me out to nature, out to do things, he often suggested that we have a "tea night", or plans for a night with no alcohol... But, I became resentful, wanting a partner in crime, not another person to hinder and question my ways. I began to feel like the rebel again, pushing back at the perceived sense of authority. I rarely wanted to do any of the healthy things he suggested, aside from fishing (but, of course, we usually took a few beers for that) and if he suggested a sober night, I would laugh and head straight to the liquor store.

The program ended, and aside from the team and my daughter’s counselor, the only people I saw were my daughter, the boyfriend, my brother and his girlfriend. I was losing momentum, shutting off and stepping towards isolation again. As Summer wound down, I became increasingly nervous, aware of the tendencies I have towards deep depression in the Fall and Winter. 

I started to consider my relationship with alcohol; remembering the times I had stopped, how I felt, the positive effects, so desperately needed, that would come if I cleaned up... I began to slow down, even going a week or so without a drink. Each time I drank again, I fell deeper into darkness, finding it harder to reach the light. Yet, I was still not willing to consider or discuss QUITTING forever.

But, my curiosity began to pique when my team gave me information about a group that they thought would be helpful. It wasn't specifically for alcohol, drugs, or gambling, it was for ANY type of addictive, destructive behavior or thought patterns. In my need to keep alcohol out of the scope, I COULD recognize the many other addictive behaviors and patterns that were a problem for me. I was very unsure and afraid. All sorts of crazy thoughts raced through my mind.

The team had successfully planted a seed.

I finally agreed to go to CAB (Changing Addictive Behaviors).

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

It was around this time last year that I fell into the “rabbit hole”.

From very early on, I had never taken the time to know myself, I didn't learn any of the skills and tools to handle anything that occurred in my life. I was like a zombie really, just moving mindlessly through my life. I expected things to be ok, to just work out, get better... Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be ok, this will all be over, I'll do better, I'll be better... Tomorrow.

I have spent my life living on the edge, moving from one crisis or trauma to the next. There didn't seem to be any respite, perhaps a glimmer of hope once in a blue moon, but it never lasted. Of course, without doing any of the work I needed to do, and without an ounce of self-care, self-love, or self-respect to support any type of healing, it never would. I just carried obliviously onward, continuously slipping into the rabbit hole, pulling myself a few inches out, until the next thing happened, when I'd slide back down to the bottom.

 

My world as I had known it began to seriously crumble shortly after moving 5 years ago. After 13 years, the abuse and violence in my marriage erupted, and I separated from my husband, and promptly fell headfirst, deep into that rabbit hole. The couple that took my daughter and I in for a few months after the explosive break up of my marriage became my best friends; we were a part of each other’s daily lives, despite the healthy and unhealthy dynamics of the relationship between the three of us was. Almost 2 years ago now, I witnessed the husband, my friend, someone very close to me, and my boss, have a massive heart attack, and subsequently pass on. After he passed, the house cleaning, deliveries, other odd jobs, and Administrative/Booking Assistant work that I had been doing with/for them for 3 years, came to a sudden end. The growing anxiety and realization of how unhealthy, co-dependent and toxic things were becoming in my life had begun shortly before he died, and afterwards I promptly fell apart. I had been tending to the needs of everyone close to me, taking their stuff on as my own, using it as an unhealthy distraction, and I had used up my resources. I was empty. I had nothing left for myself, let alone anyone else.  Panic and anxiety took over. I had a hard time leaving my house, breathing, I had severe chest and heart pains, I cried constantly, I couldn’t sleep, think, function…Out of fear and shame, I clung to the hope/”need” to continue home schooling my, then 8 year old, daughter. (Perhaps an attempt to retain some sense of (false) control?) My behaviours and thinking were completely distorted and irrational. I had no clarity. I was making horrible decisions while, of course, attempting to rationalize them. I was numbing the pain by drinking more and more, and at times of the day I never would have before. I was drowning.

A lifetime of abuse, violence, alcohol dependency, grief and loss, co-dependency, toxic relationships, taking on the role of the "victim", fucked up, irrational thinking, every other “major event” or ”defining moment” that I had ever experienced, buried, avoided, came bursting out, PTSD and GAD symptoms blew up… My entire life caught up to me. I was collapsing, falling apart, scared, and out of control.

As I have since been learning, I was stuck in the "Fight, Flight, or Freeze" state for nearly my entire life. My amygdala had been running the show, without a break, in overdrive, which was causing a whole slew of other things to occur in my mind and body.

...my story isn't over yet... ;)