Its like a dance! One step at a time

Proof that when you take a step back, you find a new path to go forward on.

My step back? I started the new season of Twin Peaks this weekend. Halfway through episode one, there was bang/pow music through a creepy woods. My anxiety spiked and I tried to push through it even though I felt the panic rising. It ended at a small cabin when a man steps out with a shotgun. I. Lost. It. I screamed, cried, panicked. It was awful. We stopped watching the episode.

So, still dealing with the triggers. No matter how minor.

But! The step forward! I did the dishes! Remember last time I did the dishes? That didn't happen this time. This is the first day in months that I've been able to do the dishes. I didn't cry. I didn't panic. It was like normal! I am so happy with myself I feel like I can do anything!

So sometimes there are set backs, but you got to recognize the step forwards too!

Gasp!

A symptom that has not ever gone away is how easily startled I am. A loud noise, or seeing something unexpected, makes me gasp and jump a little in my seat. I should be thankful that minor things don't instantly trigger a panic attack like before, but it's still a bit annoying (although I do laugh at myself when it happens).

Examples of things that have startled me (with a gasp and jump out of my seat): 

• Whistling
• Mario Kart player missing a jump and falling off the track
• Someone saying "This is bad"
• The turning of a doorknob
• Shutting the refrigerator door
• Someone sneezing down the hall

So you can see, very mundane things. Of course the main things that previously triggered a panic attack, still do, but at a lower capacity. For example, while at the cabin last weekend, my brother put on one of the new Planet of the Apes films. I believe it was Rise of the Planet of the Ape. There were a few gun shots. I did my gasp and jump at the first one, and felt my heart rate rise. Then by the time they showed another gun, I was out of the room. Guns and Loud noises trigger the "gasp and jump" reflex but it also comes with the panic attack. I am becoming quit well at keeping them under control for the most part. I think 2/5 times, I get triggered into an intense panic. 

I did bring up this to my therapist, asking her if I will always be so easily startled or if it's something that will go away. I mentioned that I gasped at paper blowing slightly in the breeze out of the corner of my eye (yes, I gasped at paper!!). She personally doesn't have experience with this type of trauma, so she found it hard to give me a definite answer. Which is fine. I know we are a unique case for Kentucky (that's what our Victim Specialist told us too). I just wish I knew for sure.

I guess, for now, that means no haunted houses, no scary movies, and no extreme gun movies until I can stop this "gasp and jump" at the little things. It's something I will slowly have to build a tolerance to!

New tattoo secret

I got a new tattoo a few weeks ago. There is a dark secret hidden within it though. I've only confided in my husband and my mother this secret, but it's probably time I told the whole truth.

This tattoo is a life preserver.

I started having really dark thoughts that surrounded me starting around the beginning of May. I used to be a self harmer, but nothing that I used to be can compare to the desire I felt a few months ago; what I currently struggle to keep at bay.

I had this reoccurring, and extremely intense, desire to end it all. I kept imagining the ways to do it. The plan. The note. How it would effect everyone. As a former self harmer, I knew which way I wanted to do it. After seeing the Netflix show 13 Reasons Why, I felt there was no other way to go.

As a rational and logical human being, I knew it was just the trauma talking to me. I knew I could get out of this thought pattern. I knew I could curve that desire. So, on one particular day, spontaneously, I got a tattoo.

The tattoo is a colorful phoenix. I wanted it to be abstract and colorful to remind me of the beauty in the world. I wanted a phoenix to remind myself to rise above this trauma. I got it on my arm to tell myself not to cut through something so pretty and meaningful.

It worked! I felt happy again. The endorphins from the pain of the tattoo made me feel happy. I could look down and remind myself of all the good in the world and how strong I am! It worked extremely well, for a while.

After it healed, it seemed like the goal slowly faded away. I started to sink again. It seemed like I was sinking faster and deeper than where I was at before I got the tattoo. There was a heartache I couldn't mend. I wanted to die.

It was about to happen. It was a week or two after our first visit to the lake this year. I was drowning in sorrow. If I could claw out my heart to end it all I would have. I needed to escape my skin. I needed an out. It was going to be as spontaneous as my decision for a tattoo. It was going to happen without much preparation.

But first, one more talk. My rational brain needed to try and reach out to Erich. It wanted to let him know what was about to happen. It wanted me to try one more time to keep going.

As I hid myself away, and the tears were flowing erratically, I unleashed the heartache I was holding within. I told him I got the tattoo on my arm to curb the desire to slit my wrists. I told him that everyday I felt I was getting closer. That living with survivor's guilt is a fate worse than the void of nothingness. That I know people love me, care about me, and would be sad that I'm gone and it all meant nothing to me. I cried my heart out. I cried my lungs out. I cried for hours.

He told me that when he feels that way, he goes some place different. Anywhere than that ledge of suicide is better than that ledge. Then, another spontaneous decision. Just as he finished saying that, I told him we need to leave the house right now. We jumped in the car and started driving.

I tried to call my mom. No answer.
I tried to text and call and text. No answer.
It was late. She was asleep. But I needed her. I needed her to know and to understand. After a few attempts, I told Erich nevermind​ and let's just drive around until I stopped crying. And we did. And we ended up at my mother-in-law's house. She was able to calm me down after another hour or so. Then we went back home.

So that's the story of my tattoo. I look at it and I still see all the original promises and hope. I know it does help keep the thoughts away.

But the thoughts are still there, bubbling just under the surface.

Treat Yo Self

I used to deny myself many things. A specialty coffee in the morning, a new pair of shoes, new clothes, two desserts. I always told myself, there is something better to spend my money on. By better, I meant more practical. Like gas, bills, groceries, car repairs, etc. I had buyers remorse every time I bought something for myself.

After having a sudden, and violent, life or death experience (and seeing terrorist attacks all over the news this month) it really puts life in perspective, and just how instantly it can end at any moment.

Life is short. There is no guarantee that you will make it to age 90, and even if you did 90 years is still a short time. I still can't believe I made it this far. I am shocked that Erich and I were both alive to see him turn 30. It almost didn't happen!

Lately, I've been treating myself. I've been treating myself to new shoes, coffee, chai, or tea several days a week. I've been on edge of quitting my crappy job since I got back. Life is too short to have to worry about bad bosses. Life is too short to continue to wear shoes that are tattered and falling apart. Life is too short not to treat yo self to even the smallest things that make you happy.

For a few months, that's what I keep telling myself.
I should go get that thing I want because, I could die tomorrow.
I should get Erich a very expensive birthday gift because I want his moments here to be as happy as they can be.
I should treat my neighbor to dinner every once in a while.
I shouldn't turn down that invite to a small reunion party.
I should help my friends pay for groceries.
I should give that homeless guy money.

I should do everything I can to make the world a better place for friends, family, future generations, strangers and myself. This is a positive that has come from a negative. I am just getting there, but I will continue to live life to the fullest as best as I can. Now, I am sipping on a delicious Beekeeper Iceberg from Heine Brothers at 9:00 AM because I deserve it!

And you deserve it too.

"Keep Going"

I went to a cabin by the lake this weekend. It was a short weekend trip with Family. My brother and his girlfriend arrived near the end of the trip. He came in to talk to me.

I told him about my struggles. I told him about how I am so depressed I cannot move. I told him that blogging almost every day really helped me for a while, but then I stopped. You know what he said? Just two small, but powerful words:

"Keep going."

I am trying. I am trying everyday to keep going on. I am trying to force myself to do better. I am trying to get out of bed earlier, do some chores, get out of the house, and keep blogging. I am trying so hard to keep going.

So forgive me that this blog entry is short, and that I haven't had a good blog entry in a while. Things are starting to look up. I am going to try to keep going....

...and I hope you keep going as well :)