PTSD Healing: Don’t Give Up the Fight!

My friend’s son is dying. The Boy is 24 years old. He was born with a defect: He only has half a heart. But The Boy is all about heart. He is fun and loving and endeavors to live and experience every day to the fullest even though he knows time is ticking.

And now, the clock is winding down. This past week the heart has begun to fail. The body is shutting down. Several doctors concur there is nothing to be done.

My friend is an Argentine tango dancer. We all went to a milonga Saturday night. I hugged my friend hello and discovered he is hoarse. “I had an argument with God,” he said, “And She won.”

Normally a jolly, joking soul, my friend was subdued, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow as he works to accept that this is the last holiday season he will have with his boy. My friend is an ex-Marine. He’s a tough guy. He’s all about what he can do, what he can effect, what he can save. He’s not used to accepting there’s nothing to be done. He’s strong, but this will test him to the edge.

How many of us look at our PTSD situation and just accept it? How many of us feel the depression and say, “There’s nothing to be done.”? How many of us struggle half-heartedly because we don’t really believe we’ll find relief? How many of us are actually right about any of this?

The answer is: Zero. Thousands of people recover from complicated mental illnesses every year. Why shouldn’t we be part of that number?

I found an interesting resource last week: National Empowerment Center. Their entire perspective is that we can heal mental illness, and that we can do it ourselves. How do they know? The staff has all healed from various mental disorders, including schizophrenia. On page 3 in a recovery guide posted on the site there is this sentence: “Recovery research tells us that, given the right combination of attitudes and supports, people can fully recover from mental illness.” Now, that’s what I like to hear! And that’s what I believe.

How can we accept PTSD when others have not accepted schizophrenia, BP, DID and a host of other complicated situations? The answer is, we cannot. We do not have a terminal condition. We were not born with only ½ a heart. Every day we must struggle and fight to heal; we must be working toward reaching out, finding support, entering a therapy, believing, trying again until we get it right. Until we find the perfect combination of support, therapy and our own strength that brings us to that aha! moment, and then everything changes.

After 26 awful PTSD years my own aha! moment came on a very dark day, when I was nightmare depressed, insomnia sleep deprived and so hyper-emotional I cried on a dime. And then something in me finally cracked and I thought, I can’t live like this anymore. This was not a suicidal idea; rather, it was the idea that I could spend the years fighting and losing and accepting that this was the way my life would go. So, I chose to fight another way. Instead of fighting against PTSD, I decided to fight for my own healing. I decided to use that fighting energy to seek joy, and everything changed.

When we believe, we move toward that gleaming oasis of healing and then one day life takes on a whole new meaning. We do not have the luxury of accepting PTSD when my friend must accept his son’s imminent death. My friend has no choice. We do. Choice is a gift. We must use it with all our heart.

(photo: dadadreams)

Phases of Healing PTSD, Part 5: The Power of Intention

One more thought in this healing PTSD series. In order to learn any new skill – in order do anything, to achieve anything – we start with an intention. We want something, we have the desire for it and commit to having, getting, finding that thing which we desire.

Healing PTSD follows the same path. My challenge to you today is to rate your intention. Is it strong or weak, wild or mild?

In my own history, there were many years I actively sought relief from the symptoms, but I had no specific healing intention. Or rather, my intention was for someone else to heal me, some doctor, therapist, practitioner – whoever! – it was up to them to make me well. I had nothing to do with it. I presented myself in their offices and let them do their thing. Needless to say, my healing was minimal and my journey long.

However, when I finally determined that I WOULD BE HEALED – well then, everything changed. Within a year I made incredible progress and was living a much better life. I am not unique. You can do this, too. My healing did not begin until I actually took on the intention myself. Have you?

Recently I wrote an article for MilitaryWriters.com. In 'Ideas for Healing Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder' I make the point that the crux of healing is what we do for ourselves. Which means, intention is everything.

This weekend, think about how strong your intention is to be well. On a score of 1 to 10 (10 being the strongest) would you say that your intention to heal is Wild or Mild? If it’s wild – meaning you will do whatever it takes to be well, including facing your fears and traumas, learning your truths, reclaiming your self – then you’re ready to achieve wellness and following a proactive path will lead you there.

But if you rate lower than, say, a 10 on the scale of healing intention, you’ve got some work to do! Before you can be well you must WANT to be well with all the power of your bruised and battered soul. You, my friends, must ask yourself why you don’t rate a 10 on the intention scale. What is holding you back? I had a list of a few things that got in my way. If they resonate with you let me know. And then - begin to move beyond them! The biggest hurdle in any achievement is recognizing what’s holding us back. Once we remove those obstacles (by recognizing and then letting them go) we are ready to move forward on our intentions.

For a little inspiration let’s turn to the father of the power of intention, Wayne Dyer. This video should get you fired up. In it, Dyer defines intention as “no matter what gets in the way I intend to make [this] happen”. Sounds like just the attitude we need to heal! Dyer references intention as a pitbull with a tire. I like that image. We have to have that kind of tenacity to heal PTSD. This post-trauma disorder is as strong, durable and flexible as a tire. WE have to be as ruthless, relentless and ­­­­­­­­­­­robust as a pitbull in order to flay this thing to pieces.

I drained my bank account and my emotional reserves chasing cures before I focused my intention. There’s no need for us all to keep making the same mistakes. Today, turn your thoughts toward clearly focusing your intention on healing PTSD. In his video, Dyer says, “You are able to heal yourself.” That’s a powerful statement. It should give us all much hope, but also, much guidance on our path to wellness.

We need to develop a powerful, fiery healing circle of intention both without and within. Dyer says intention is something we connect to. Well then, today’s the day for you to reach out and connect to a source that’s just there, in the air, an energy hovering near you, waiting for you to reach out and connect to it.

Watch this Dyer video. You may not have time to view it in its entirety today, but if you only watch the first 10 minutes it will give you plenty to think about for the rest of the weekend.

And then, as the Nike slogan goes, Just do it. Focus your intention. Take all of the angst and pain and sadness and anger and desperation and funnel it into this one, simple intention. Create that burning desire to heal. Decide nothing can stop you. Your mantra for the rest of the weekend and in all the upcoming days should be, I want to be healed. I want to be healed! Come on, let me hear you chant a few times.

Healing is within our reach, but we do have to stretch for it. Begin today. A new year is approaching. If you have the desire, 2009 can be your year to become PTSD-free.

Phases of Healing PTSD, Part 4:The Achievement

So this is it, the moment we’ve all been waiting for: Today’s the day we consider that PTSD can be – like the event that began it in the first place – a thing of the past.

This week began with my feeling gratitude for how far I’ve come in my PTSD healing. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. All week I’ve been writing about the parallel between learning a new physical skill (i.e. dance), and learning a new mental skill (i.e. PTSD healing). We’re all just apprentices and there are phases to our education.

And then one day we graduate. We become not the apprentice but the expert. This can happen for you, my fellow PTSDers. One day, we will all be healed and enjoying:

Phase #6: The Final Achievement – It’s been 1 ½ years since I began dancing. 1 ½ years since John and I first stepped into a Latin club where I was a complete salsa failure; since we went to Argentine tango dance parties and all I could do was walk to the cross .

But that’s not how it is anymore! Now, everywhere we go John and I are regularly asked where we teach, perform and compete. Which means, it’s official: I can DANCE.

It’s been almost 4 years since I sat myself down and decided to do whatever it takes to heal. 4 years since I dove head first into my memories, and trauma and PTSD research. 4 years since I descended into a worse hell than I ever imagined existed (and what I knew and imagined before was pretty gruesome already).

What happened 4 years ago that made me take the plunge? There was a day in February 2005 when I had a complete breakdown on the jogging path that goes up the shore of the East River in Manhattan. And as I stood there in sub-freezing temperatures and cried and sobbed all of my PTSD grief and frustration, the dominant thought that emerged was one of fear. I am so afraid! was the echoing thought in my head.

I came to the realization - was hit hard by a startling discovery - that the crux of my post-traumatic stress and related behavior stemmed from this one fact: I WAS AFRAID. So very, very afraid. Afraid the trauma would happen again. Afraid I would suffer again. Afraid no one would be able to help me or save me or prevent the event again. Afraid the next time I wouldn't survive. Afraid that in the present I would completely disintegrate both mentally and physically. The list was long and the emotion sharp. Fear was such an ingrained habit for me that I had literally lived with it and thought it was normal because it had become my natural state.

And then I thought, I can't live like this anymore. It was this moment that began my healing odyssey. The recognition of the germ of all my PTSD suffering brought with it a certain relief: I knew what needed to be addressed. I knew I had to deal with that echoing thought - my fear - if I was ever going to be free.

And so I did. I went back into therapy for 6 months and then set off on my own path. After the initial black abyss I tumbled into, slowly I began to heal, little by little, small step by small step until one day I emerged from the dark into a small pool of light. Over time that small pool of light has grown progressively larger.

I think an important aspect of my healing came from the proactive path of it; the fact that I engaged in it, steered it, willed it. Healing is not bestowed upon us. We must demand it. We must accept nothing less. In our traumas we are powerless, but in choosing to heal and following through we become powerful.

The healing process itself can be just the act we need to put the demons to rest. In giving us back a sense of our own power it returns to us something that was taken away. Namely, a sense of self that trauma so rapidly destroys. We cannot wait for healing to be given to us. We must actively seek it, and not only by seeking out practitioners, but by drawing up our own strength and implementing it.

(Photo credit: Basilly)

Phases of Healing PTSD, Part 3: Making Progress

Healing takes a while. And so does this topic! Here’s one of two final installments on the parallel between learning a new skill (in my case, dance) and healing PTSD:

Phase #5 – Making Progress – Salsa and Argentine tango became my passion and I set goals for developing my dance skills. I put in the effort to educate myself, plus to practice so that I mastered the forms. All day at work I listened to salsa music on Pandora so I could learn how to find the beat without looking for it. Every night after work I came home and practiced the special tango walk until I could do it in a straight line without wobbling.

It took about six months for me to really learn to dance. For me to understand the lead/follow relationship, learn how to follow, learn what it means to embellish on my own, to interpret the music on a second’s notice, to place that extra heel tap, to perfectly distribute my weight. It was six months before I could get out on the floor and feel like I not only knew what I was doing, but I was doing it well and with some level of technical expertise.

During those first five months, however, there were experiences that let me know I was making progress. There was the night I found out what to do with that extra salsa beat (kick, tap or roll!). There was the evening I finally (finally!) executed a perfect tango molinete. On these nights I’d leave the dance floor flush with exhilaration that I was getting better and better!

It took a little longer to develop my expertise for healing PTSD. It took 3 full years for me to heal, start to finish. Three years of research. Three years of writing out the whole story: all of what I could remember about the original trauma, and then all of what PTSD turned my life into after that, symptom by symptom. I tracked who I had been before trauma, who I was during, and who I became after so I could find the kernel of my real self, and then coax her back out. It took me three years to untangle what was trauma and what was chronic PTSD and to understand their impact on me and my life. Three years to find the right practitioner to help me achieve what I could not do alone.

[NOTE: I’m not recommending this technique of writing it all out to everyone. It worked for me. It may work for you, but it’s a tough way to purge the poison. Deliberately writing, remembering and examining provided many triggers along the way.

While I do believe it is critically important (as Jean-Martin Charcot and Pierre Janet dictated) to integrate all of our traumatic memories into our current selves so they do not exist separately, this writing process itself can be traumatic and there are other treatments that can help. Unfortunately, I had tried every other treatment except medication and I was still seriously suffering. (If you’re interested in trying this writing tactic, let me know. I think it’s best to structure your approach and I’d be happy to offer more details of my own effort so you follow a planned path.)

During those 3 years of healing, though (and this I can recommend), I came up with the idea that in order to heal PTSD and get beyond my trauma it was necessary to begin to imagine myself outside of PTSD and trauma. By this I mean, imagine who I was, wanted to, or could be without all the junk of experience.

In the middle of all this research and looking at the past I began doing little things in the present that would move me into a new future. I began taking pilates so that I started rebuilding strength and trust in my broken down body. When I was well enough I started learning to dance because I wanted to be every day that joyful person I was on the dance floor any night.]

Because at the outset of my healing journey all of my PTSD symptoms initially intensified, it seemed at first that I was on the wrong path, as if I was doing something more harmful than good.

And then there came the day I could look at photos of my illness and my stomach didn’t turn.

There was the day I read a piece of writing that described and explained all of my PTSD symptoms and I recognized myself and no longer felt like such a freak.

There was the day I wrote about the most horrible aspect of my illness and afterward felt a swell of relief, like, Whew! Now that’s out!.

There was the day I realized all the joy I felt dancing was giving me the courage to slog through the rest of the muck, and so I felt it was possible to get it all done and finally be free.

Little by little I could see myself developing a strength to cope with this ominous thing, to bring it down to size, to use my own power to contain it and developing myself to make it shrink so that I enveloped the past instead of the other way around. The goal in trauma/PTSD healing is to contain experience within the larger scope of who we are; to flip the balance of power from our being controlled by the past, to our controlling it in the present.

The more we develop ourselves outside of trauma/PTSD the stronger we become. I clung to each moment of progress and believed - every time it all came crashing down again - that those healing moments were my truth. I reached toward them. This belief in myself inspired me to get up and carry on.

After trauma, the hardest thing to do is believe in ourselves and yet, this is the most important thing we have to do.

(Photo: Jim Donaldson)

Phases of PTSD Healing, Part 2: Stumbling & Moving Forward

Picking up from yesterday’s post about the phases of healing:

Phase #4: Stumbling & Moving Forward – I went to a group salsa class for a few lessons and did well, so when John (whom I met in my very first group Argentine tango class) asked me to go salsa dancing, I thought I was prepared. We went to a fabulous Latin club in West Palm Beach. It was a large space with a sunken dance floor. We got out on the floor and I immediately discovered… I couldn’t dance at all! In group classes they slow the tempo of the music; in Latin clubs it’s a whole new ball game. I had no idea what I was doing. I couldn’t hear the beat. I couldn’t follow the rhythm. I had to concentrate. I had to watch other people dance so I could learn from their style and expertise.

Tango was even more difficult. Of all the dances it is the most complicated to learn. Unlike other dances, tango lacks a set pattern of steps. This makes following and learning more difficult, as does the complexity of the footwork in general. There were many nights in class that my brain went into overload and I left the dance studio with a wicked headache and a strong sense of the futility of what I was trying to do.

With both of these dances I had several moments when I thought I can’t do this! and I’ll never be good at this! But I wanted to be able to dance both dances well, so I made the commitment to learn. I quit the salsa class and John and I went to Latin clubs 2 – 3 nights a week. I watched. I tried. I stumbled. I watched some more. I tried again. Eventually I got the rhythm and figured out the steps, timing, and embellishments.

We continued going to tango class and I would come home and practice the special tango walk and other footwork. We went to weekly milongas (tango dance parties) so we could practice. Comfort came slowly. My capability developed a tiny bit at a time. My technique slowly evolved.

Healing PTSD became like this, too. I began researching my trauma and writing out my memories and thought I was prepared to do the work. I thought if I could handle looking at photos of my illness and learning statistics and other trauma information, I was making positive progress. I thought if I could write out what I remembered that proved I was stronger the trauma.

I began doing all of this and felt like I was in control. But then my memories and nightmares increased in frequency and intensity, the insomnia raged, my emotions swung like a pendulum; I became more depressed than ever. I couldn’t think about anything except my trauma twenty-four hours a day.

For weeks, every PTSD symptom grew worse until I’d break down, renounce the struggle, wail I can't do this!, put away the research, turn off the computer and walk away – for a day, or a week before the old desire was back; before the determination to be healed needled me until I sat down in the middle of it all again for as long as I could stand it before the next breakdown.

This process repeated itself over and over, but each time I made forward progress. Each time before the breakdown there was a surge in knowledge, understanding, education and empowerment. I went from not being able to think about my illness to being able to look at pictures of others afflicted by it. I went from not being able to speak about my trauma to developing a vocabulary for it and the ability to discuss it out loud.

As humans we should be used to this sort of method. As infants we learn to walk, stumble, fall and get up again, competely determined to master this skill. As adults it’s a mental experience and so, much more difficult. But we’re wired for this, we know how it goes and that there will be struggles and pitfalls and injuries. The thing is, we also know: One day, we’ll be able to run.

(Photo: temp13rec)

Phases of Healing PTSD, Part 1: Desire & Commitment

When you attempt to do anything, or learn something new, there's usually a plan. You have an idea of where to begin and what steps you'll need to take to follow through. You appreciate and accept there'll be a process, a learning curve, a period of time to develop the situation or new skill. You know you'll be out of your element sometimes, and out of your depth. Because you desire the outcome of this situation or the development of this skill you don't mind these things, you know they come with the territory.

I think we have to approach PTSD healing like that, too. We have to really desire it, and we have to know that there will be phases of it. I’ve been thinking more about the similarities between learning to dance and PTSD. Actually, the processes (and you could substitute learning any activity here) have similar phases. When I started writing about this topic I realized I have a lot to say; this is going to take more than one day...

So, here it is today, the first 3 things on the list of Michele's 6-Phase Outline of PTSD Healing:

Phase #1: Discovering the Desire – All of a sudden there comes a day you discover you really, really want to do this thing. In regard to dancing, this night caught me by surprise. I was miserable, deep into a dark and shaky PTSD depression – and then I found myself on a dance floor full of joy and I was shocked it was possible to feel that way. I decided I wanted to feel that way more often; I decided to make dancing a weekly event.

Likewise, the idea to heal my PTSD came out of the blue. I had just moved from Manhattan to South FL and was really enjoying the beach and the idea that just crossing state lines could eradicate memories of my trauma (OK, so I was naïve!) when I read THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING, by Joan Didion. This simple memoir of a woman’s struggle with grief inspired me: through a series of chapters that alternated between a research oriented approach and an exploration of her grief-inducing memories, she made a peace with it all. I thought, Maybe I could do that... So, I started researching my trauma, and then PTSD, and then I started writing it all out, as if it could be transferred and then contained by 8 ½ x 11 inch margins. I developed a plan; I saw an end goal.

Phase #2: Finding the Way – I had no idea how or where to learn dance. I showed up at a dance studio near my house and just dove in without a clue.

I did pretty much the same thing about learning about my trauma and PTSD. I didn’t know much about either. I dove into the research and a whole world of understanding opened up. When we have the desire we find the way. The path shows itself to us when we begin to imagine the path exists.

Phase #3: Committing to the Path – My first dance lesson was a huge revelation. While I’ve always been an avid and comfortable freestyle dancer, partner dancing is something else entirely. I wasn’t used to following a lead. I wasn’t used to being hemmed in in my physical expression. I wasn’t used to having to coordinate my body and mind (which PTSD made very, very difficult). I wasn’t used to being held in the arms of a stranger. I could go on and on. There were many things about learning to partner dance that made me uncomfortable and pushed me beyond that zone in which we live where all things are reliable and known. But I wanted to learn, so I pushed those things to the side and barreled ahead.

I did the same thing with my trauma and PTSD research. It was horrible to read about the facts of my illness and disturbing to read about PTSD. But I had the idea that demystifying it all would allow it to become something of which I was no longer so afraid. Despite the discomfort I pressed on.

PTSD Healing – Take A Moment of Gratitude

Something very exciting happened this weekend: I danced well with many different men. Before you completely give up on me and wonder why this is remarkable - and what this has to do with PTSD - let me explain:

I began dancing salsa and Argentine Tango (classic salon style and Nuevo tango) a little more than a year and a half ago. I did it as a concerted effort to pursue joy, which was part of a larger effort to deliberately construct my post-trauma identity, which was part of my desire to heal my PTSD. As many of you know, this dance experiment worked in spades.

What made learning to partner dance incredibly difficult though, is this small problem I have: I don’t like being touched by strangers. I have trouble trusting. I don’t like getting close. This makes partner dancing particularly tough. With John it’s different. My connection with him is unique and he’s become my partner both on and off the dance floor. This has been a good thing, although it has spoiled me. Instead of learning to dance with a variety of men and many different leads, I’ve become extremely comfortable with John and one or two friends. Otherwise, I stay away from strangers, which in the world of social dancing is pretty limiting and ridiculous. But dancing with strangers was out of my comfort zone. I was tentative, unsure, anxious, and afraid I wouldn’t be able to follow an unknown lead.

Over the past few months, however, as my dancing expertise continues to define itself, something has shifted in me. The anxieties I’ve felt began to wane until, this Friday night we went to our favorite Latin club and I danced with several men besides John – and I was able to match my salsa style to theirs and follow the leads that were clear and improvise for those that weren’t. We went to a milonga on Saturday night and I danced with many men and the same thing happened so that by the end of the weekend I was basking in the realization of how far I’ve come. That 1 ½ years ago I could not salsa or tango at all, and now I am completely proficient. And I thought:

It’s just like healing PTSD. Three years ago, when I first began my quest to be healed I was very sick. It seemed impossible to imagine I would ever be well. That I could ever be healed. But then I did some research. I educated myself. I decided on a plan of attack. I developed a process, stuck to it, went waaaaayy outside my comfort zone and found relief.

And now here I am, taking a moment to feel gratitude for the fact that it is possible to find liberation; for the hard work I did during the times I thought it was all useless; for the things I tried that didn’t work; for the things that worked but not too well; for the things I stumbled on that brought me one step closer to a life that’s now PTSD-free.

We’re all on the same healing path and as we move forward through the days it’s important to remember that healing is a process. It doesn’t happen overnight. We have to go out of our PTSD comfort zone. This takes dedication and commitment. Some days we fail; we don’t hear the rhythm of healing or put together the right sequence of steps. Some days we make great progress and execute a move that a month ago seemed impossible. And then, some day down the line we look back and see how far we’ve come. We take small steps and eventually something shifts.

Don’t forget to feel gratitude for the fact you’re on the path. You’ve come this far. We all survived our traumas, and now every day we survive PTSD, too. We’re pretty strong. We’re fighters. We’re survivors in the best possible way. Don’t forget to appreciate yourself in the struggle.

Don’t forget to applaud yourself for being here, reaching out, looking for answers, trying to heal. Despite how difficult PTSD makes each day, what can you be proud of doing? Make a list. Honor yourself, even if the list begins with, “Today I got out of bed.”

And then: Reward yourself! Give yourself a treat. All the tough days can't be without their upsides. Last night I splurged. For the first time, I bought a real dance skirt when John and I were at Gold Coast Ballroom. Something a pro would wear. I figured I deserved it: To overcome PTSD and become a good dancer I've worked so hard!