somehow i became enthralled with celebrity rehab this season. i have watched an episode here or there, and last season i watched a few. but this year, there have been some moments of this rehab journey that these infamous people and this somewhat famous doctor travelled. sean young (of blade runner fame), michael lohan (yes, lindsay's father), bai ling, and some others- but most illuminated for me is amy fisher(long island lolita).
i'm not sure just what it is that hooked me about this season, but i do remember several moments. i remember amy getting pissed at the cameras following her and being reminded of the paparazzi that chased her in her teens. i remember the group going to a horse ranch and being asked to groom a horse's hoof. sean was thrown from a horse on a movie set, breaking her collarbone and losing a job. it was more than powerful, it was also poetic. there was bai ling having a manic episode and hiding on the roof of the rehab building. she was almost as crazy as some the tweakers i have known- and she was frightened of taking pharmaceuticals to combat her bi-polar disorder, feeling much more comfortable drinking herself into oblivion than trying something new. michael lohan and his phone were perhaps the saddest relationship that got featured on the show he was arguing with the people he loved through his phone for a good portion of the series and missed a very large portion of the treatment as he was high from the chemical releases in his brain from the exaggerated anger that swirled around him.
i don't know at all why i liked this season more than others. i relate to bullshit that they trudge through and i relate to the fear of change that leads the pack in most cases. it's hard to imagine life without a net. and many of us can i relate to only have one real net that will catch us. even if we fall, this particular net will numb the pain. but the damage that living while fucked-up does is not a new story, nor the one that holds my interest any more.
no the elegant story is that change does actually that. it changes things. it rehabilitates life. it unblocks the blocked. it hurts a lot and then feels good. and this celebrity business that envelops the subjects of each season falls a little as one by one experience some sort of therapeutic moment and realize that changing may be (not for certain) but may be smarter than remaining the same.
i understand very well how seeped in ancient drama a person can become. and i think that listening to many of these individuals (as well as many others i know) underscores how easy it is to remain stuck in the past. and changing, really changing, requires letting go of some things.
“A wise old owl sat on an oak; The more he saw the less he spoke; The less he spoke the more he heard; Why aren't we like that wise old bird?”
one thing i have come to understand with getting sober is that behind all the denial and pomp and circumstance of heavy drinking and drugging stands a person who never really learned how to feel emotions in a healthy way. the advent of getting high allowed me the opportunity to recede my fears, doubts, and self-judgements and make way for inflated ego and outgoing mania-driven adventure.
with 30 or so years of that under my belt, it has been quite the journey to let go of old delusions, understand and begin to see clearly how things are-not to mention why they are- and work towards accepting that information and move forward.
the most interesting and probably most spiritual part of this process has been the ease with which the universe has offered support for me. i have not suffered physically at all. i have always been afforded employment and revenue. i have never wanted to revisit the "old days" by action. sometimes i have through music and memory, but i have been blissfully blessed with no desire to test the "getting high" waters again.
that's not to say i have not had struggles. i definitely have. i have been living with ptsd (both from my childhood experiences as well as my adulthood) and that has probably been the most devastating aspect of having a clear head. reliving trauma and revisiting emotional torture is a monumental task- or has been for me. it has cost me friendships, it has cost me sanity at times, and i have had to recreate my life in sobriety just as i had many times in addiction because to walk through it was too much for me to comprehend.
i am sure there have been damages in my wake. on several occasions, i have found myself terrorized with conflict and unable to negotiate it which led me to step aside completely from relationship. this is not necessarily a nice thing to do. but i did. i hope i continue to get better.
i have started a new group which is a general support group - including mental health and recovery- and i think this process is igniting this post. i sit with these folks and listen to them negotiate their feelings and their perceptions and work on change and continued recognition at the same time. and i am amazed that they come and that they talk and they listen. i am embraced by the similarity in experience and the chance to witness. and at times i get to actually feel that all the bullshit (past and continued) was definitely worthwhile
when i was very young, i was entwined with inappropriate sexual activity. quite a lot of it. i can't tell you what was first or even who it was, but i do know that i had become sexually active by the time i was in the 1st grade. i grew up in a single parent household.and learned early on that if i wanted to get affection from a male, it was expedited through sexual activity fairly seamlessly. sadly, i think that this also telegraphed the information that intercourse was affection and that lust was love.
as one can imagine, being a very young, a very closeted, and very naive sexual partner affords the partners the opportunity to take advantage and perhaps be a bit utilitarian or abusive as it were. i found myself on many occasions growing engaging in sexual activity with young men only to have them make fun of me and the process later. needless to say it was often obsessive, traumatic, and taboo. and it was how my world was sculpted.
it was no wonder i started to medicate at a young age also. all those intensely passionate feelings were difficult to manage for a 12 year old.. and i soon found that i didn't have to manage them, i could just blot them out. and i did. repeatedly.
when i started my journey down sobriety road, i was not really even aware that this novella i have just described was how i had lived my life. i had done such a good job of sailing denial that i hadn't even begun to put the dominoes back together. but as i did spend time being clean, working with a sponsor, working a program, and enlarging my spiritual life. i encountered a situation and a man that very much mirrored that of much of my childhood.
he had been in a position of helper to me on my early journey to recovery. i remember the decisions to be honest with him and the disappointment in realizing he wasn't able to quite do the same. but he was smart and he was funny and he had won my confidence so i continued to have faith in him and the person he represented to me.
in the midst of his desire to make a name for himself and to carve a niche in the local scene, he enlisted me in a project a year or so after we had parted. as i accepted his invitation, he prepared to move on without me. i had changed my path and had almost immediately felt discarded, but kept moving forward as i had learned to do at such a young age. this was my total experience with the hearts and affections of men. so it didn't seem extraordinary at all.
another year passed and once again he contacted me out of the blue with the promise of another project and another adventure. i had somehow found comfort and some success with the last segment and felt confident this would follow a like path. my proverbial universe had once again opened a door and as i walked through with little fear because that is my nature.
more success followed for me in the short term. i travelled some, created an outreach entity, captained a floundering social network, resurrected a periodical, and learned much about an enclave that had been a mystery only a year or two prior. and i gained some confidence as i walked many tweakers through their follies toward some truth. but this time the adventure created some frustration and envy in my mentor. he had slowly become the wizard whose curtain had been pulled back and i had seen this and had refused to pretend i hadn't.
he lashed out at me, through my reputation and my vulnerability. i believe his intention was to make himself the great wizard of oz again, turning to him for solace and comfort. alas, that was not my path. instead i realized that something stinky was afoot and decoded a clue within this effort that pointed directly to him.
ptsd ensued. i had certainly been in this position before. many times. i had trusted this guy. and i had opened up to him and had looked to him for mentorship. and he had obliged always with the knowledge that his particular excalibur was more important that any of the knights and fools he encountered along the way. i became an incinerator with heat and horror roasting me from the inside out. i simmered and stewed for months until he cut me loose. but the day he created his little drama for me, i vollied with my perception of his play, and he didn't speak to me again even to cut me loose. he sent a messenger and a big gift. and he didn't speak to me until over a year later.
my anger was so stifling and toxic, i had no choice but to seek therapy. i needed to talk about the victim i was used to being and process how to move through this anger ( without getting high). i had never done this before. i was 46 years old and i had the emotional maturity of 16 year old. therapy changed my life. not only was i able to realize that my perceptions through all this peuky drama were pretty spot-on. i could trust my feelings and my intuitions. i learned that my anger was about much more than just the travelling salesman posing as a wizard that had occupied my life these last few years. i was angry about all those manipulating bastards who played with me like Giuseppe played with pinocchio. i had been angry for most of my life. but i had never felt entitled to honor it. because, all those years, i had felt like a freak, inadequate and not-at-all normal. this realization, that i had carried around this bullshit through all my years, just like a scarlet letter, was a pivotal action that has changed the course of my heart.
i have been actively working on letting go and moving past all these feelings i describe here. they were embedded in my core and i consistently return to those feelings when life shifts. but the difference, (and it's a huge difference) is that i don't linger in those feelings any more. i have learned that i can feel other things about myself. i can be happy even if i have made an ass of myself, or said something incredibly inept. i hope you get the picture.
this is probably long and rambling, but i had to get this out. i have recently encountered, through the degrees of separation, an invitation to go off to see the wizard once more. i have been gobsmacked 'cuz i don't have the anger i once had around this. i am impartial to say the least. and i have gratitude, real gratitude, that i can the platform to release even more of the toxic waste of my own self-judgement. and had i not travelled the road to meet the wizard, i would never have discovered the ancient internal fire, never have extinguished that fire, and found my way back to the allright.
"Fools" said I, "You do not know, Silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you." But my words like silent raindrops fell, And echoed, In the wells of silence And the people bowed and prayed, To the neon god they made. And the sign flashed out its warning, In the words that it was forming. And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls." and whisper'd in the sounds of silence.
i move through yet another phase in my own recovery, i have found that past trauma and my learned responses to it play a definitive role in my behaviors and interactions today. of course, i am only really coming to know myself because for years, i medicated feelings and masked them as much as i could. the reasons were definitely combined, as i had much shame about having homosexual feelings and experiences, and because some of those experiences were with persons who were completely inappropriate and dessimated any personal boundaries i might have needed. i found thi article about surviving abuse and resonated with it in some ways. if i consider some of this combined with the tween-age awakening of a bi-polar disorder, it could easily create a recipe for instability. as i move through my adult sober life, i am only now recognizing that sometimes i have reactions to situations in life that turn me to stone for a while and understanding why. it has always been such an integrated reaction that i have never noticed before. i freeze so i don't have to feel, because feeling has been so overwhelmingly painful at times.
i work with a client who has been homeless for over 15 years. she appears once a year or so to ask for a med9 form and allows a checkup. she consistently appears puffy, ruddy, and red-eyed. she sleeps in parks, and anywhere else her travels take her. she discusses a very small portion of her drug and alchohol use. her story seems credible to me. she keeps herself numb because she has become used to it. it makes a type of sense ot me, as i am sure she is convinced whatever difficulties she has to surmount now with men, and living outdoors, somehow seems easier a much easier mountain to scale that some past abuse that no doubt resides in her memory bank.
As an abused child I frequently detached as a way of coping with what was happening to me and even though most of my memories were devoid of emotion, it did not mean I was not experiencing emotion. My mother’s unpredictable violence forced me to suppress whatever internal turmoil I was feeling, in order to survive. This pattern of suppression and detachment became natural reactions to crisis and anything that caused me any emotional pain throughout my adult life.
After years of habitual suppression, any emotions related to the physical and sexual abuse in my childhood were very difficult to access or control. They were either elusive, hiding when they were appropriate to express or screeching out when I least wanted them to. For example, at my father’s funeral, I stood stoically over his grave and suppressed my emotions over the loss of the only real parent I’d ever had. When faced with betrayal in my marriage, I carried on in life as if nothing happened; suppressing the deep hurt and heartbreak that threatened to consume me. In therapy when I described the abuse in my childhood there was not a tear shed in the telling. It was if an internal separation automatically occurred whenever anything in my life was too painful. I was conditioned to NOT feel.
While I didn’t seem to have access to these feelings, I often reacted quite strongly to what may seem minor or insignificant to others. Feelings of betrayal, distrust, an impending sense of doom, fear, anger and an overwhelming sadness were triggered by often benign situations. It was not uncommon for me to sob while watching a scene in a movie which seemed to have little or no effect on anyone else around me (I did this during a scene in The Other Sister when Diane Keaton’s character watches her heartbroken daughter kick tennis balls in the rain and goes to her) or to become outraged over someone not saying thank you after holding a door open for them. Things like my stepdaughter not giving us her rent check on time; someone cutting me off in line, an ill perceived close call in the car could trigger a reaction that was often disproportionate to the situation. And while I kept my outrage rather private by never really publicly going off the handle, even in my private moments of venting to a loved one or quietly sobbing in a movie theater, I always felt slightly less sane and out of control as if my sanity was somehow slipping.
My husband and daughter endured years of these “venting merry go rounds” and met my rising vehemence with stares that implied I had morphed into an alien right before their very eyes. I, on the other hand, looked at everyone else as if they were the alien beings who just didn’t understand how things should work around here. I figured anyone would get upset in any of these circumstances and yet there was a part of me that said, “Hmmm, just not this upset, Stephanie”. I must admit that no matter how perplexed they were at my intensity, I couldn’t stop. In fact I didn’t want to stop. I was experiencing what I couldn’t experience as a child and in that moment it felt good to feel bad because for once it was my choice. The power in that was at first liberating. I could rant and rave, fume, yell and get myself all worked up in ways I was never allowed to as a child. Even a hint of anger was met with intimidation and violence while growing up. This was my time, my chance to exert some power and control over my life.
The problem was that I often felt crappy, embarrassed and guilty afterward, especially when I would attribute qualities such as maliciousness to the offending party. Something as simple as one of my girls repeatedly not doing the dishes was often perceived by me as an act that was done purposely to me. Each slight or perceived disregard was like a dagger into an already existing wound, stirring up the fear and distrust that were already there. Understanding this connection between my past and present is what inspired me to use these times to heal. I already had access to the emotions I thought were buried and I didn’t know it. They were there in my conflicts with loved ones, in my interactions with acquaintances or friends, even in my difficulties as a teacher. All there to show me what I needed to heal.
today's sound choice is vintage simon and garfunkel with "the sound of silence". however the embedded version is different. it's the gregorian chant version. i guess i'm feeling a bit in need of some extra reverence today.
Begin by repeating to yourself, I am not a body. I am free…. For I am still as God created me…. Then repeat the idea for the day, I bless the world because I bless myself….
omg, yesterday really put me through it. from the moment i got to work until i got home, it was really like licking astroturf- nothing comfortable at all. i was in a rush all day (yes - rushing is my last name), i felt like i was being dissed by almost everyone. at lunch i went to a networking thing, and i sat in the corner and spoke to no one. it would have been better for me to stay away.
i found myself feeling crunchy about so many details. i neeeded batteries for the walkie talkie and there were none. i had to search for an open room to meet with a client. someone i hadn't seen in almost a year looked right through me and then made sure i realized they were intentionally not speaking. i wanted to just scream all throughout the day.
"i am not my body, i am free. for i am still as god created me". this was my mantra for so very long as i was going through withdrawal and reconstruction. i remember working at the airport and taking the bus at 5am to get to work by 6. i also remember the characters that took the same bus regularly with me. i used to wonder how i landed in the same universe. specifically i remember a woman talking to me about social services taking her kids and how she was working extra shifts to make extra money. then she would boast about the hot tub she was planning on buying with the money. not much was said about extra for the kids.
i learned that if i repeated my little mantra, the internal struggle that was always happening within me would subside. it would seem peaceful and quiet in my mind for a while. so i developed a habit of repeating that phrase over and over. indeed, i was probably brainwashing myself, but on so many levels, i really needed my brain washed.
so today, i found myself using that mantra again. i wanted so much to jump into a "victim" perspective with all the snubbing and dissing and whispering going on around me. and i probably did step into that puddle now and again.
but i have survived and am roasting a chicken and some veggies for the guys in the group tomorrow. i am allowing myself some fun and the opportunity to give something of myself. it doesn't change anything but me when i do this, and that is completely enough for me. oh yeah.. happy friday the 13th!!!
today's sound choice takes me back to the mid-seventies. it is the mighty, mighty diana ross with "no one gets the prize" the only live-in boyfriend i have ever had loved, loved, loved her. we used to sleep with a 6'x9' poster of her between our mattresses. after we broke up, i ran into him doing a drag show and lip synching to one of her songs at a bar called the "artful dodger". i loved that goofy place. it was run by sparkle and taco- a gay couple that worked at the record store on broadway and belmot. they had photographs of the english royal family on the walls of the dodger.
i am roughly at the 4 1/2 year mark of sobriety and i am learning new things about myself with each year. this year has really helped me focus on my mental health and my skills at careening the ups and downs that accompany my days.
i have discovered that i am visited with a self doubting, self-battering mindset that comes on with alarming regularity. and on these days, i am busy re-living many previous interactions (both recent and ancient) with others and deeming myself (silently of course) as being completely without worth and immensely inappropriate. naturally, this is nothing new for me, but what has changed is that i no longer have the antidote to this condition i once had- getting high. what now happens is that i isolate and white knuckle through these rough patches.
as you may have guessed, today is one of those days. it's almost as if a little bell went off in my head this morning- ringing with the phrase- you're judging yourself today. it's not necessary to get wrapped up in the drama of this. but my thoughts return. it is very much like painting myself into a corner- ergo the keith haring photo. i am encouraged today however, as i slept quite a lot last night and i am hoping that this will affect the entire situation benevolently. most likely i will be staying at home today, cleaning and nesting. it's pretty dangerous for me to leave the safe zone on these days.
fun day off, eh? still i am thankful not to be going where i used to go when this happened. and the amazing gift for me is understanding that some things just don't go away. i cannot take a pill or a drink to alleviate, i only have to learn to accept and endure. this is truly a lesson for me in this life.
today's sound choice is my beloved dashboard confessional with "remember to breathe"
We need to rescue and nurture and Love our inner children - and STOP them from controlling our lives. STOP them from driving the bus! Children are not supposed to drive, they are not supposed to be in control."
have you ever found yourself in the position where you feel as if you are waking from some kind of really weird dream? that's how i feel today.
i know that i suspended a lot of my good sense a few months back as i encountered a weird phenomenon which consisted of re-experiencing some childhood trauma. i'm not gonna go into it at length, but i am touching on it because i am just now realizing that as a result of actively working through these feelings as best as i have been able, something must really be working. i have faced those feelings, which for years i was completely afraid to do. face them i did (am) and i am not hurting beyond comprehension as i had feared. hardly that really. instead, my life is beginning to consist of moments when i am in the present. sometimes minutiae, sometimes for longer periods of time, the experience of being her now is starting to seem real.
i am much more aware of how i am feeling and even more aware of how others are feeling. i am letting go of making others difficulties be about me. i am also learning how to really think of others first (or if not first at least a very quick second). this glacier is melting. this hole in my soul is beginning to fill. i am feeling. i am not having to feel an extreme in order to feel, i am actually feeling more subtle emotions.
i feel like i am waking up, like rumplestiltskin. i am coming out of a trance. i feel the same, but look very different. and the world around me has changed.
PTSD, phobias and trauma are NOT life long conditions, and can be treated quickly and easily with the rewind technique, a non voyeuristic and fast method of detraumatising both individual and extended traumatic events. watch video here
my experience with ptsd could be best described as terror in rewind. there is a return to those feelings that happened when the initial trauma occurred. what used to go on was that i would be triggered somehow and start to medicate so i didn't have to relive that drama. it's very typical but it also stunted my emotional growth. maybe what needs to happen is that with rewind comes a chance to play it again with a healthier outcome.
on the flight back from dc on friday, united was showing "be kind rewind" with jack black and mos def. i laughed my ass off. i'm sure i was disturbing people on the plane, but i couldn't help myself. it is silly shit. very slapstick and very basic humor. simple and funny.
two things struck me.
one- mia farrow was in the film, and it's vintage feel reminded me of many allen films. i just wondered how much influence she had in this production and accordingly, how much she might have added to the allen genre she was part of. perhaps none at all.
two- i believe we all are just remaking an older classic. most of the drama in our lives is really a remake. almost all of it has been done before. we try to make it fresh, but really- everything old is new again. i know i am trying to make my life as original as possible, but as i age i realize the unlikelihood of that, and become more satisfied with authenticity. and maybe recovery is rewind. maybe not. either way i need to be kind.
Letting go doesn't mean we don't care. Letting go doesn't mean we shut down. Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make people behave. It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the moment. It means we stop trying to do the impossible--controlling that which we cannot--and instead, focus on what is possible--which usually means taking care of ourselves. And we do this in gentleness, kindness, and love, as much as possible.
Melody Beattie
i had breakfast yesterday morning with a friend and it was sad and sweet. i realized that we have grown apart. he hasn't done anything that i can think of to ignite this change of heart for me, but i just don't feel close any longer. and that is okay.
i know that i felt defensive a bit, which is all me. he asked me about meetings and perhaps that is what i am defensive about. i am not going to meetings right now. i don't pursue them nor feel comfortable in them. this is contrasted by a post by a dear friend marc. i am in a lot of different meetings regularly, and i struggle with downtime for myself. i also much prefer sharing with my psychiatrist and in this blog than in a 12 step meeting right now. most of this is a residual of the march madness i experienced in my life. my trust issues reared their ugly heads and i am working at putting them to rest. i don't feel safe right now around everyone, and i truly believe it is better to honor my feelings than to give in to peer pressure about what i "ought" be doing or how i "should be feeling". i've had plenty of both of those around my recent experiences. i am going to therapy and i am finding my solution there currently. again, i am working on feeling my feelings, not putting them aside. i did that for decades and it evolved into addiction.
my life is greeting yet another change. the movements made by the intention to form an organization signal this change probably in many ways. i received a call from a member of the community who seems to just want to be supportive. i don't normally get calls like this. we'll see, but i am going to expect the best (as best i can).
am i coming across as a bit emotional today? i hope so. i saw this friend today, and i sadly realized i am letting go. i then got a call from a stranger offering to help and understand. whether my head is turning, or i'm swimming in ego, or following my heart remains to be seen. my intentions with the old friend are peppered with mistrust which is supported by history. so i need to let go and wish the best for him. and i have to look toward the next right action.
today is the hike in rocky mountain national park. i am blessed today that i take part in activities like these. i have lived in colorado for almost 20 years and spent most of that time in a bar somewhere else in the world. and all that time, i have been at heaven's back door.
Clairee Belcher: That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.
my good friend marc left a comment on yesterdays post which i decided merited a response. i don't usually respond to peoples' comments as i think that they deserve to have their own life. but i did have a reaction to his comment about being overboard, and so any readers can be certain, i actually spoke with him directly about my position. we had a lovely and heartwarming conversation and that inspired me to directly respond with a post as well.
marc believes that many times i skirt around issues in my posts, especially my own feelings and focus more on the process and that this tendency leaves the reader in the fog a bit about the specifics of the things i talk about. he indicated that in earlier posts he understood to some degree that i felt betrayed and hurt, but after our talk, indicated that he really had no indication to what degree or to what depth these feelings cut.
so i will try to respond to this today in a more well-rounded fashion and see if i can express my position with less detachment, so the reader can understand a bit more clearly what it's like inside my head (ooooh scary thought).
i grew up an only child in a small town in illinois in a single parent family in the early 60's. when i was about 10 years old, i had sexual interactions with a few boys from my neighborhood upon their suggestion. after this took place, these boys told most of the other boys in their junior high school which then had a ripple effect to most of the boys in the town within a 5 or 6 year range of age.
i became the subject of verbal ridicule in public and got the fantastic nickname of the "pillsbury blowboy" which would always be followed by laughter. this horrified me, honestly, and left me feeling betrayed and also believing that my actions had inspired their actions and that i deserved this treatment. i also came to believe that i was damaged and different than everyone else, and that if i trusted boys that they would betray me. mind you, i had already been sexually molested by a male babysitter when i was in the first grade, but i have really blocked most of that out. i used to have horrible sexually inappropriate dreams during primary school years.
but the breach of secrecy this time was traumatic for me. i shouldered it all by myself, as i was too humiliated to discuss it with anyone. it also led me to believe that all boys really wanted from me was sexual relations of some sort, because i came to be accosted on many occasions after that by local boys when no one else was around a little like a whore. most times i complied because i thought that was how it was suppose to be, and that i, indeed, was a queer and this is how queers behaved. subsequently, at any time, i could be approached by some silly bully looking to cause trouble and have to deal with it without much defense. at many times, i was filled with terror and self-hatred but felt trapped. by the time i was 13, i was getting high as often as i could, because that blocked out all these self-deprecating thoughts and beliefs, at least temporarily. my family moved when i was in 9th grade, but the patterns were already ingrained, and my self-loathing and self-medication tendencies were part of my psychological makeup.
as is customary with trauma survivors, i would re-create the trauma and add more traumas repeatedly throughout my lifetime. and my handling (definitely oxymoron) would always be the same- get loaded and not think about it or talk about it. fast forward to 4 years or so ago when i was trying to get clean. the traumas were part of the last using stories, but i had also become heart weary of throwing away everything in order to forget. it wasn't working anymore.
i returned to denver and sought counseling in a treatment clinic and began my journey to sobriety. i had many difficulties in trusting my counselor and my psychiatrist early on. they were both men, and frankly i was still only half-believing men when they said anything. but i did finally let my guard down, and trusted one counselor. he was flawed certainly, but since i was at the top of that list, it was hardly anything i held against anyone. and having been referred to a mental health professional through him, and then switching to another professional after that, i was able to let down some of guard, put down my defense, and began my work on healing.
my counselor faded in and out of my life periodically as the next year or so went by. he would call me every 4 or 5 months out of the blue and ask me to take a job as a client advocate (working with people with HIV/AIDS) as i had been so diligent in advocating for myself through the maze of treatment requirements and agencies in order to secure the types of services that i needed. for some reason after about a year of waiting tables at a restaurant at the airport (my feet were tired) i acquiesced. i interviewed with a small agency and got hired on the spot. it was so easy and validated me in miraculous ways. my counselor had indicated that we would be working together and that was one of the reasons i took the positions.
funny- he left his position 2 weeks after i started. i remember feeling a bit abandoned, but the job change had been made. actually, i worked both jobs for over a year, as the advocacy position was only 32 hours and i still had big amends bills to pay.
well, the job became a beautiful part of me. it was "giving back" in ways i had never dreamed possible. i had been poz for almost 20 years then, and never realized that all i had survived could have such value for others, or that the empathy that i naturally feel for others could open a golden door of hope and inclusion for people who were struggling just as much, if not more, than i ever had. i was enjoying life. i was beginning to succeed.
i got a call from my former counselor, indicating that he had been hearing great things about me. he was going to be leaving his big city job and becoming the executive director of a substance use clinic and wanted me to work on developing a treatment program for gay men, poz and not, with crystal meth addictions. well, it seemed more of the same, and a little too good to be true, so i agreed. i left my airport job, and worked for his agency part time, while i worked at my advocacy job 32 hours a week, and did networking, research, handshaking, etc. i had already taken my CAC (certified addictions counselor)classes and i began an internship. i joined the planning council for the mayor's office of hiv resourses after an invitation from one of the office's staff.
grants were written, a rather revealing local newspaper article(see some public candor in sidebar) was published at my old counselor's request, and i was on my way to giving back in a bigger way. when the first grant monies were received, i decided to work less hours and concentrate on just one activity. i left the advocacy position, and went to the agency full time. 2 weeks in, on a sunday, i came home from a day in the mountains, to five voice mails on my phone from my new boss (old counselor). each one was creepier that the former. basically, they were demanding that i call right away, initially, followed by chastisements because i obviously had made other decisions, demanding my resignation, my keys, it was smarmy. i shared those messages with a few people in my life. i felt dirty and totally creeped out.
the next day i got several phone calls from my boss apologizing for the behaviors in the guise of whiny but sad messages. here is a definite character flaw for me- i so wanted to work on this program that i had developed, that i pushed past these red flags in order to get what i wanted. this is something i am still learning about myself.
but i digress- so 2 months ago, when that nasty email came across my desk, i sat starting it for about a half hour, because i recognized the screeching tone in the letter. it was that same voice from the smarmy and inappropriate voicemails of the previous summer. i couldn't believe that someone i had trusted so much would do this under a false identity. but as i continued to study the email, i realized it contained personal treatment information, such as where i received my mental health treatment. this is a particular item that i don't really discuss much, certainly not much publicly. yet, there was the agency's name in print and the name of the program which helped me get back on my feet. this solidified my suspicions. my old counselor would certainly know these intimate details. and he would certainly know the specific players' names and email addresses to which it was addressed. and it was most like a response to a conversation we had 3 days prior, while he was under the influence of something, regarding a public recognition for some of the work that we had been involved in. but his name was not mentioned in the said recognition, and i believe that bullshit that petty is what may have caused all this. that and his love of mixing prescription meds with alcohol.
so now, here is where i address marc's concerns. it is not the job or loss thereof that created so much drama for me at all. i am consistently a hard worker, i am tenacious, i am talented, and i am capable and will no doubt work again.
no, no, no. what happened to me, was that this crushing breach of trust by someone i had believed in that brought all those old feelings back. i felt that i could trust no one again. i felt that i somehow deserved this. i felt that this is what my life is. i felt ripped open. i felt totally exposed and vulnerable. i have been afraid to be around people because they are all talking about me and laughing. and i felt that i was on my own, and i had nowhere to find refuge. and i know in my heart that all the angst and anger i have felt, have really been about the first betrayal, and then the subsequent ones, more than it was about this clown's psychotic behavior. and i haven't had the luxury before of working through any of these feelings sober. in fact, the garden party i blogged about last weekend is a prime example. it was full of gay men in recovery, yet i found myself flooded with old feelings of being separate and disdained. i have always gotten fucked up when i felt this emotional dark hole. when my best friend died and within a month i tested positive that hole appeared, and i stayed loaded for almost 2 years. when i got mugged in chicago by 4 men and raped when i was 16, i got loaded to deal with the pain. it's like a dark hole that i crawl into mindlessly because i was trapped there so long and it feels comfortable, even though it so painful at the same time.
a sober approach to "feeling" is new to me. it's recovery, but a different sort. i don't think it's too drastic to call what i experienced ptsd. i think it appropriate. there is trauma in my background. the feelings are primal. and i actually think just testing hiv positive alone is trauma in its own right. not just an everyday life experience.
yes marc, i have felt very angry about the situation with my old counselor/boss. i have felt that he solicited me, greased me up, bent me over, and fucked me. and i have hated it. someone in a position of trust and authority might be expected to support their client or their employee and respect some confidentiality, as opposed to manipulating the clients vision in order to strip mine their talents and energy only to leave things torn up and in a mess when they have exhausted the perceived value. the anger really doesn't serve me though (there's another story about anger) and the good news here, i am working through this. this seems to be a pattern in my life, and i am taking notice. i have no regrets. i consider all this a blessing and a path for me to work through much of this old shit. i am healing. i am laughing and i am moving forward. and i am writing about it, because it helps me, and it may just help someone else.
i realized today that i have been experiencing some ptsd. when i was 10 or so i became sexually active with a couple of boys in my neighborhood. i dare not say molested because they were only a couple of years older than me. after the 1st experience with them, they proceeded to tell everyone in school i was a queer- a faggot- and that i had done things to them. i could hear people talking about me many times which would then shush when i came into view. this scenario was repeated when i was a freshman in high school after we had moved to a chicago suburb. these life altering experiences terrorized me and tormented me for several years to follow. (now mind you, i had been molested before these incidents, too. i am told that these later behaviors that i speak of are classic ptsd symptoms- a person who experience traumas oftentimes engages in activities that set them up to be re- victimized and experience additional traumas. this could help explain why i sought refuge in drug use.)
when i read that depraved note, i went into that dark space i have been in so many times before in my mind. i couldn't think straight. i was silently screaming my brains out. i drifted in and out of paranoia and couldn't trust anyone. it has been so challenging for me these last few days. luckily i have done some work on myself with a therapist in that area and now can remember that i am no longer that humiliated little boy being called "faggot" in earshot of so many with nowhere to run and no one to comfort me. i have grown and can get through this. it does take time though. time and purposed effort.
i feel safer today. thank heaven for that... i bought myself roses and put them on my desk at work. they did make me feel like someone loved me.
here are 3 symptoms of ptsd according to seeking safety:
Symptoms fall within three categories:
Intrusion
Intrusion symptoms are vivid episodic "flashbacks" or memories of the trauma. They reoccur unexpectedly and are often accompanied by painful emotions that may take over a person's attention, sometimes to the point where the person feels as though they are reliving the event or experience.
Avoidance
Avoidance symptoms generally affect relationships with others as the traumatized person may feel “numb” or have diminished emotions. The person may also avoid close personal ties with family, friends and colleagues.
Hyperarousal
Hyperarousal symptoms cause sudden emotional outbursts, even when unprovoked. People with hyperarousal may have a constant feeling that danger is near, causing an exaggerated startle response. They may also experience trouble concentrating or remembering current information, have terrifying nightmares, or may develop insomnia
if you want to learn more about pstd please click here
once again i say i'm so thankful it's progress not perfection...understanding all this takes time and patience. i am exhausted today from cycling through all this. i am humiliated, i am humbled, i am somewhat frightened, i am unsteady. but i am also relieved that the light at the end of this particular tunnel is in view. i am also somewhat skeptical about posting this, but i know my intention is to share my experience in order that it may assist another in some way.
i almost opted for "i'm only human" by the human league today, but opted for this choice for the vid. this is crossposted at queer deviations
i am sitting this morning having coffee and listening to the new annie lennox cd-"songs of mass destruction". i'm really peaceful and my life is decidedly pretty damn good. but there's a weird little feeling in the back of my mind that is a sort of nagging memory. reminding me that my life isn't really like this. my life isn't peaceful. my life is full of clamour and drama and tumult. how can this be?
melancholy washes over me with another song. there is hope in my heart and faith in my mind. i know these to be truth. i also know that ptsd is real. that 45 years of ups and downs doesn't lead to the next 45 years being calm. i have prayed today. i have jogged my 3 miles and really soothed my mind. i have let go of trying to control the situations for a minute(cuz i'll retract that decision several times today and have to redo).
i am a bit nervous about going to ptown for the roundup in a coupla weeks. i am not sure why, i guess because i don't feel at ease in large groups of gay men. especially when i am not getting high. it was always much easier for me to forge through a fear like this with the help of snorting, smoking, or slurping some courage. but again, i don't need this crutch. yeah, tell that to my ego. my heart knows it, but ego is another thing.
i encourage all my clients to do mirror work- ala louise hay. to develop a relationship with that person looking at them in the mirror and to learn to love that person. because that person looking back at them is going to be the only person to save their asses, when push comes to shove. we really only have ourselves and our faith to rely on.
i guess i am rediscovering that dark roads are most times the roads of not knowing. these roads are definitely a part of life, at least mine. although really scary, they don't have to necessarily be dangerous or a bad experience. more likely, they are just unknown.
i now start to understand how i can feel fear, but walk through it,, and still be safe and all right. (this is also a gentle note to a fellow blogger- he'll know who he is, hopefully.)
so, thanx to a great idea from marc, i am going to try to put youtube posts on the mile high meth site in the stories sections. i just have to facilitate this. i am going to create a new username with you tube and then do some filming and start uploading. these will be short(hopefully)stories from gay men who have used and some from the people who love them, talking about the benefits of letting crystal go. the deal about quitting crystal and life after crystal. i am looking forward to this project.
if you feel the desire or need to share your story, please feel welcome to contact us. we want this to be multi-layered. not just one type of gay man or woman, etc.... and we want it to be as interactive as possible. our desire is for this process of shifting from crystal use back to a more holistic life, to feel as connected and inclusive as possible for people. that process typically finds a person trying to go from almost complete isolation back into a more social existence. others' input can normalize that process. hopefully this is like shining light onto a dark road for others.
Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is the term for a severe and ongoing emotional reaction to an extreme psychological trauma. The latter may involve someone's actual death or a threat to the patient's or someone else's life, serious physical injury, or threat to physical and/or psychological integrity, to a degree that usual psychological defenses are incapable of coping.
It is important to make a distinction between PTSD and Traumatic stress, which is a similar condition, but of less intensity and duration.
i am posting on trauma today to speak to an acquaintance i have made in blog-world and i hope this is anything but sad. he experienced a pretty traumatic experience a couple of months back and i am only offering this perspective in reference to some things i have noticed, which he may very well be aware of anyway. it is by no means a judgement or a bitch. it is only offered with respect, because i experienced my own share of horrifying traumas and never realized that my reactions and behaviors afterwards (for up to years btw) were connected and resultant. sometimes people think the world is against them and become combative in response, and sometimes people assume they are to blame for everything. it is not exactly the same for everyone, but it does have an effect. i think that understanding what it is firstly, and then how it works are very crucial pieces to working through trauma and ptsd. of course there is always the saying: if it don't fit, don't force it.
as for me, in case you haven't already considered it, enduring these situations and experiences can and oftentimes does lead to substance use and addiction. the memories and reliving of traumas can easily lead one down the path of self-medication. and oftentimes a person gets stuck in that mode. drug and alcohol abuse and addiction have a closely knit relationship to trauma. and a common belief (and my own personal take) is that hiv creates trauma and that many of its carriers endure these very issues. this is true from my personal experience, although hiv was not the original trauma, it was an addendum trauma, which is also very common. a trauma survivor will engage in behaviors that perpetuate additional traumas.
what i have uncovered, is this syndrome, this disorder, went unchecked in my life for years and has left a crevasse as deep as the grand canyon in its wake. i always felt that i needed to be tough and that i had to handle all the negative self perceptions i took on as a result of terror. many of these i actually still hold on to at my core. it also became almost impossible for anyone to get beyond the emotional fortress i built to protect myself. i would re-enact bits and pieces throughout the years and destroy any good things i had created in my life. my friends and family can certainly attest to this fact.
but i am sure of at least one thing in my particular case. once i understood the ramifications of what has transpired in my past, and that my feelings were more reactionary than independent, it became more possible to move towards forgiving myself and my abuser. i began to let go of the shackles that those incidents had placed on me. and this has moved me much closer to being present and being able to participate in life today. i stress the importance of a trained and licensed professional. this can and did make all the difference in the world and paved the way for a 12 step program or any other process to actually work in my life.
one thing i personally believe to be true for many gay men: we are queer! we have lived with and through fear!(remember the 80's?) we are walking wounded! we are survivors! we are healers! we are shamans!
i love my tribe!
this is an excerpt from an article from athealth.com
and then a clip of the corrs:
here is a link to find out a bit more about trauma and there are several more good ones on google as well. click here
since i just did the post about character defects, i thought that i would start with my most garish and prevalent defect - internalized homophobia - which translates to self hatred and self criticism. it is definitely my nemesis. it has fueled many of my destructive thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. i am a sissy. indeed, i can't tell you why, really. i can give you reasons, or excuses, about the way i was raised, about the things i endured growing up, about why i act like a sissy, or talk like a sissy (as far as i know, i don't walk like a sissy, although i certainly can if the need arises).
this singular yet extremely complicated part of my being, though, is one of the most polarizing in my community. if i were to ask most gay men what they found attractive in other gay men, this particular trait would never be on the top ten of any list. as a matter of fact, it would be at the bottom five of a huge percentage. and in reality, it really is not at the top of my list either. more likely, it is at the bottom of mine, too. so it is something i completely understand and identify with. but, can you understand my conundrum? be proud, while i hate part of myself.
funny, i am almost humiliated just typing this, knowing i may actually publish it. but if i am ready to have god remove all my character defects, i have to be willing, really willing. the truly stinging aspect to all of this is not that i am a sissy. i am clear on that. it is that i am judgemental. it is that i can despise and loathe-no matter what it is- and i guess i really do.
so when i say i am ready to have god remove all these defects of character, it has to include my homophobia. i cringe when i think about asking for anything around this item, to be honest. my own homophobia is so deeply a part of my core protection. how do i let it go? this is the poison that kills so many of my contemporaries. this is the gay man's achilles heel. this causes us to attack each other, to lose our footing, to step away from who we really are. i guess i had better go to my bathroom mirror and ask for H-E-L-P again. well, i may have to be a little more willing first.
here's one thing i know. sissies, along with drag queens and stone butch dykes were hugely instrumental in securing the actual freedoms we take for granted today. they were the ones that were being beaten up with regularity and subsequently fought back, went to jail, and came right back outa jail for more. it appears that culturally, we have repaid these ground breakers by enjoying the fruits of their labor and pushing them to the outsides of the pack allowing them to be picked off by the wolves more easily. or is it just really hoping they will protect us? exactly what does that rainbow flag stand for anyway? is there just not a color for sissies? well maybe there is when it's time for us to laugh.
am i ready to have this defect in the form of judgement removed? i hope so. i really am tired of it. and i don't see how it's serving me at all. and if we can't learn to stop hating ourselves, how can we expect others to stop? evidently, homophobia (internalized and otherwise) must stop with me.
this clip is a little over 6 minutes. i realize this is a huge amount of time for bloggers or anyone else these days. but it immediately tugged at my heart. i loved the film when it was released, and now i remember why. it was reminiscent of my own boyhood in some respects. i'm sure you'll understand if you can stick with it.
