Category: PTSD

Why So Much Anxiety?

Posted on by Faith

Anxiety comes over like waves. One minute my head is above water, the next I have waves of debilitating anxiety. It washes over me so that all I want to do is go to bed with the covers over my head. I don’t feel like I’m coping. I wish I could go to the hospital inpatient for medication management. This is over my head right now.

I’m not suicidal but I’m not ok either. I’m thinking about going inpatient though.

Dr . D is displeased that I can’t rely on my CNAs to remind me to eat something between 10 – 3 while she’s here. She just wants to concentrate on her agenda for the day which doesn’t include reminding me to eat or giving 3pm medication prompts. She reminds me to take 9am meds but the rest of the day there are no prompts. It doesn’t matter who comes here, they aren’t going to do prompts. They aren’t wired for it. This CNA only wants to do some of the housework while outright ignoring the rest, but she’s honestly about the best I’m going to get.

I feel like I’m constantly irritated with a friend of mine. The other day she was fixing the doors on my big terrarium. In the process she needed to adjust something, who knows. Well instead of asking for a screwdriver she picked up one of my spoons for tea and started working with it. I said, no, I don’t think so. I gave her a screwdriver and just shook my head. THEN I went into the kitchen to get in my little oven only to find that the oven was unplugged. I plugged it back in. She said she unplugged it to plug it a small tool. I said, you need to ask questions. Where should I plug this in? Do you have a screwdriver? ….. smh. Don’t just start doing stuff on your own bc it’s not going to go well.

Those two things may not mean anything to others but I don’t appreciate people doing whatever they want with my stuff. And to use one of my spoons for tea like a screwdriver and to pry something off? No ma’am!

I’m also irritated with her bc she takes stuff I’m throwing away and puts it in her attic saying she’ll keep it “just in case I change my mind later and want it back.” I guess I’m not even able to make decisions on my own. Like I need her as a safety net so I don’t throw away my stuff. She gets on my nerves with that crap!

I got rid of a table. Instead of putting it in the trash she said I might want it later so she took it home with her. It’s like for some reason my word means nothing! She gets on my nerves with that crap!

So in addition to anxiety I’m irritated with people. I’m irritated with my CNA for wanting to fight the people at KFC and for threatening to throw a drink on an employee. I’m irritated that stuff goes from zero to 100 with her and employees.

I’m just irritated and very anxious!

A History of Eyes on Me

Posted on by Faith

Content: Abuse. Being watched by abusers. Sadism.

Publishing this art piece comes at an odd time seeing as how I just talked about store workers profiling and following me and my caregiver at the store. It’s also not concerning imaginary audience / fable but an all together different type of being watched.

I was never sure why my mother was watching me. I was more concerned by her method of watching me. Although I know she watched me and my sister around the second grade, my most vivid memories are the 4th grade when she wore her trench coat and stood behind the door motionlessly.

The coat was her regular coat. It was a black trench coat. When the lights were out we couldn’t see her, nor were we looking for her. But if we saw a motionless figure in the hallway it scared the crap out of us. She’d make sure we’d seen her before walking away. No words. Just walks away.

After a little while I worked hard not to show I was afraid. I’d either say nothing or turn around to the door and say something to her. I had to guage how far I could go in pretending she didn’t scare me. I knew there was a response she was looking for. If I withheld that response too much, I might regret it. When being beaten with a dowel rod I knew I had to give the response she was looking for.

"She speaks the dream" - available

When being watched in the room alone, when showering or using the restroom there was a response she was looking for. I always wondered if there were times she wasn’t trying to get caught and see my reaction. This game of watching went on all the way to the day before I moved out. She listened to phone calls when we had a corded phone. I owned nothing, especially my body.

When I moved to Florida with my mother’s sister, my cousin and an uncle by marriage, I thought life was going to be good. He said he would treat me like his own daughter. That one sentence makes me want to break into tears. The irony of it is cruel.

Roses for Jane - available

My cousin was his step daughter. She endured more abuse than me. Having me dress up. Making crude comments. Watching me. If I turned around and saw him watching through the cracked door, he too would stay just a few seconds longer before quietly leaving.

I’ll be keeping A History of Eyes on Me a little while longer. It’s hanging in my own art area beside the painting She Speaks the Dream, which was created in 2017.

Observations – The painting called Roses for Jane was remade. In addition to more eyes, I brought out the figure in the back then made a dramatic leap by dividing the main figure in black and white. I kept quite a bit of the original twist and turns while softening her face by one notch. As a person who uses sunflowers for emotional expressions, it interests me that not a single flower is on the original piece or the new. The main figure is no longer standing in the dark.

Thank you for coming to Sundrip today.

Faith

That feeling. That color.

Posted on by Faith

My CNA took me to Michael’s craft store where a few people decided to make things difficult for us. The company recently added an electric cart for disabled people, however, both times I used the carts my CNA and I were immediately jumped by the manager.

The first time we were approached rough was when the cart was plugged in by an office. My CNA unplugged it to bring to me. The manager acted like we were trying to steal it. She came out and physical grabbed the cart to ask what we were trying to do! I told her I was just trying to shop. She said ok then said they usually ask for it not to go outside but it’ll be ok if my CNA picks me up at the sidewalk then brings it back in. Keep in mind, I was sitting in my wheelchair inside the store. My CNA is trying to come to me inside the store with the electric cart when the manager came out of her office, physically put her hands on the cart and asked my CNA what she was doing. Where are you going? What are you doing? I’m inside the store which means I’m shopping.

Then she told us despite the sign, I can be picked up at the curb as long as the CNA brings it back. That was all last time. Using the cart today should have been fine, but nope.

I was in the car, at the curb. I was close enough to the door that I could hear and see the manager. The manager got in front of the electric cart and told my CNA she couldn’t take the cart to me outside. The CNA reminded her that we were told that I could be picked up at the curb, right in front of the door. So she tells the lady that she’s a caregiver and I’m her client. The manager settled down and let my CNA pass to pick me up at the curb.

The way the manager reacted to the CNA was over the top and accusatory. We know full well you’re allowed to take the cart to the curb. You can take it to the sidewalk and have a person bring it back in. Smh

As we shopped we had three employees openly following us. I said, it’s almost like they see color and stop thinking.

Several minutes later one of the people openly following us was crossing our path with those rolling staircases. This being the Midwest, and since we were that close, someone had to speak during the social collision. The employee politely said, Are you finding everything you’re looking for?….. My CNA snarled back, “No! And you don’t need to know what I want or what I’m looking for!” It shocked me and the employee.

I intervened and told my CNA to please stop letting words come out of her mouth. I told the employee that I was sorry for that interaction, then I went back with my CNA, who had left the scene of the accident. Lol

As we shopped I was deeply saddened that a trip to the craft store had turned so bad. I understand the CNA didn’t appreciate getting jumped by the manager for doing what clients are allowed to do, go to the curb. I too was hurt inside by being followed. I mean, you know that feeling you get when something is so wrong that you just want to say, look, I’ve done nothing wrong. Why are you acting this way?

That feeling is vulnerable. That feeling is degrading. It’s degrading because the accusation is pretty rough. We were followed by 3 people so openly because we’re that color. We’re the color that makes people stop thinking clearly.

When my CNA snapped at the employee it gave me an opportunity to play peace maker. When we went to the checkout I talked to that employee. I told them to have a manageable day. I said, the world has changed so much that I don’t expect to have a good day. We both kind of chuckled. I said, We never know what to expect. People are so angry.” I said, “It makes it hard to know who to trust.” That comment made a difference. It was like we broke a bit of a barrier there for just a second.

In all truthfulness, I believe this person followed my CNA and me because the supervisor requested it, the second employee, too. However, no such thing can be said for the supervisor. She decided to stop thinking when she saw color.

Imagine that! Imagine losing reasoning ability because of someone else’s color. Imagine not being able to accurately judge threat levels because you see someone of color. Imagine being so closed to the community that it never crossed the manager’s mind that we just wanted a fun day at the craft store. Why does my color make you stupid?

Michael’s craft store doesn’t even prosecute unless you take a printer or dye cutting machine. They don’t prosecute general shoplifting so why were they on us so hard over merchandise we were willing to pay for?

My anxiety for going out remains high. I worry regularly about getting shot.

Faith

At War With Myself – Disordered Eating

Posted on by Faith

Content – Disordered eating. Binge eating, no purge. Shame. Hopeless feelings. Anxiety. Inpatient for medication management.

I had therapy today where it was decided that I’ll have a short set time with extra home care. I’ll be adding a 3 hr day to Saturday until the beginning of the year.

I really have a hard time keeping myself together. I’m close to needing inpatient. I’m trying to get around that.

I burst into tears 3 times Friday, out of nowhere. Thursday I was so anxious that I felt like I needed complete quiet bc I was so overly stimulated. Every sound assaulted me. I couldn’t sleep until around 6am. My head has been all over the place.

On the 8th I’ll go to see how my eyesight is doing with the Pseudotumor cerebri. Peripheral vision is gone on the left side. There’s a large blind spot in the middle of the left eye. I have some issues on the right, mostly fatigue, I think. Def worries me.

I was supposed to lose weight so I can avoid a spinal tap. Instead of of being thinner for my opthalmology appointment, I’ll return 30 lbs heavier. How will I explain that? I have to take the psych meds and I have disordered eating. It’s not going well. I know my eating is disordered, maybe even addiction level. I have the pull of increased appetite from those 2 meds and then my disordered eating.

The difficulty is that I can eat and eat without feeling anything. I’m not satisfied nor am I hungry. I’m empty. As cliche as it sounds, I keep trying to fill a hole. So I keep eating, mostly sweets. Binge eating is a problem. The other day I ate six apple fritters in less than 30 minutes. The day before I had twelve strawberry pop tarts in about an hour. No other food those days bc I didn’t remember.

Eating to sooth emotions is a problem. Baked goods make me feel better. Coffee and tea make me feel better. It’s like I’ve got to put something inside myself, only once it’s been eaten the soothing is gone. 1) I can’t tell that I ate or drank. 2) I’m back to whatever I was feeling that caused me to turn to food. It’s a vicious cycle.

After the 12th all my teeth will be pulled. I’ll wait for them to heal before getting full dentures. Eating will be difficult. Having disordered eating at that time worries me.

Now that I have a steady CNA and now that Dr D works in a building that is handicapped accessible, I can go see him. I’m just embarrassed! I’m embarrassed about seeing the ophthalmologist this coming Friday. I’m embarrassed to see my primary doctor. I’m embarrassed to see my psychologist.

I thought to myself the other day, there’s very little understanding offered to people who are overweight. At least some understanding is offered to people addicted to street drugs. Fat people are blamed and mocked as if the reasons for my addiction are any different. Life hurts. Same story, different poison.

I feel lost with my eating issues. I keep thinking I’ll get a hold of it. Add disordered eating to the pull of medication side effects from seroquel or my Pregabline and I’ve got myself an inner war I’m quickly losing.

Joan

This week in photos: Stress. Pets. Art.

Posted on by Faith

Joe has finally won over the CNA. She likes him quite a bit. Joe doesn’t climb in the chair she usually sits in but he does rest under it now.

I’ve been doing more art with Scriptures and scriptural thoughts. This little 8×5-ish painting is for a good friend of mine in Arizona.

I’ve got to work on spacing out my lettering better.

Rosie is taking a bath in the 30 gallon, over grown, terrarium. Today on a group there was a free gecko. It took everything I had not to inquire. 🙂

I think as my buddy gets older I fear losing him.

I thought getting a younger cat now might make the inevitable, tolerable. But then there’s the possibility it’ll just stress Joe.

Joe is only 14 but that’s nothing to sneeze at …….. He’s been letting me pick him up and hold him a little longer, which is great for me. If I talk to him he’ll let me hold him longer but I find it difficult to chatter at pets.

I’m in love with my raw beads! I used brown Sculpy mixed with yellow FIMO that dries like leather. Just to put them in a safe spot, I slid them on a piece of leather. It looks pretty good. I put it on my vase holding my arrowhead plants.

Painting rocks and making beads is so relaxing.

Here are a few photos of me on ‘outing day’. Next week I’m going to CC’s Pizza. I’m getting out a lot more and loving it.

I’ve got company this weekend. It should be nice. Lol I feel like a bit of a social butterfly again.

Until soon,

Faith

Put Up or Shut Up

Posted on by Faith

Content – Domestic Violence, sexual abuse, negative family response to child abuse, emotional, CNAs

You know how you listen to a person complain but they fail to change what they’re complaining about? You try to be supportive but you just end up frustrated because the person will not make a change. I’m doing something like that right now.

I needed to make a decision, then I needed to act on it, so I did. I didn’t make the decision based off of what others might do but off my experiences. So, for now, I’m keeping the psychopath CNA that I have because in addition to her psychopathy, she shows up to work every day, on time and without those ridiculously long eyelashes and fingernails. This 65 year old woman doesn’t change her hair every 3 days which means I recognize her when she arrives.

When my CNA shows up she’s not drunk and her car has insurance and doesn’t smell like weed. She’s clean. She takes me to the store, on and on. She’s not obese. Why do they send obese CNAs to help an obese patient living in a tiny apartment? Make it make sense, boo. So yeah, I’m keeping her and her psychopathic tendencies until further notice. I intend to complain about her behavior. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to.

Dr D asked if I was being abused. I told him I’m not sure I’d admit it if I was. I wonder if I’d respond like a battered wife, again. I know I would, which is why openly discussing issues with her to my therapist will be important.

I think I’d be embarrassed to say I’m being abused. The fear is that I won’t be believed or that I’m being too sensitive. I worry I’ll then be labeled as someone who has to be watched or I’ll make accusations. Let me explain.

After time in Florida with my now deceased uncle and my mother’s sister, I returned to Indiana on an emergency flight. In Florida I was going to be left home alone with an abuser, the uncle, for a full weekend. Very long story short, when I got back to Indiana I wasn’t allowed to be alone with my grandfather anymore. One aunt said she didn’t want me to have the chance to make accusations against him. I felt marked and like everyone would be on guard around me for fear I’d strike with a terrible accusation. I couldn’t be around any males alone anymore out of concern for them. I worry about the same kind of thing happening now.

I need help sifting through the drama and mayhem that happens here sometimes. I need help sorting through my emotions concerning treatment by any given individual. Why? Because my eyesight has been altered by child abuse and abuse in romantic relationships. I don’t see as clearly as I need to which is why I will benefit from bouncing things off my therapist concerning CNAs.

A second pair of eyes will be helpful especially when that person understands I’m not as emotionally strong as I come off. I don’t look like I could be abused and say nothing. I sometimes feel just like that little girl in the old photos on my wall. I’m not though.

I think it’s sad that I need to accept a certain level of drama and mistreatment as normal CNA behavior. I’m not a person that just anyone can work with. My mental health often clashes with the CNAs mental health. We are both guilty of impatience, preconceived ideas and plain ol being tired of people. Putting these CNAs in with us is like putting the odd couple together. It either works or someone is flipping out. It’s so stressful.

When she comes in I look at her to see what mood she might be in. Yeah, there are serious issues here but so far things remain under control as far as abuse goes.

This battle with caregivers will not end for me. I’ll have caregivers for the rest of my life. I’m learning how to deal with them and I’m learning how to be strong enough to speak up for myself when it comes to abuse.

If a person wants to argue, I can argue with the best of them, then tell everyone what happened. But if I’m struck, intimidated or threatened, chances are I’d say nothing. That. must. change.

Joan

Slow Moving and Art Updates.

Posted on by Faith

I woke around 9am but I didn’t get up until 1 pm. I just couldn’t get going.

Yesterday was a full day in that we went to Michael’s craft store, Hobby Lobby and Lowes. I got a sunflower stash at Michael’s, all 4 of the large sunflowers total $10. Score! I’m physically exhausted from that but it was great.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m so afraid to sleep. I’ve even wanted to sleep with the light on. I’m uneasy and even afraid at night. I have no reason to be. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m under my own roof. Yes, the fear is strong but it only lives in my head. It’s not based on 2023. The fear is from a few years past and when I was young.

I fear laying down flat and suffocating. I didn’t fear laying down flat until the 2018 events. Now I panic and can’t breathe.

For me, the most trauma is February 12th when it all happened. May 7th when they amputated my foot and August 25th when I moved into this apartment. It’s funny, I don’t remember the date of the thrombectomy. That’s the heavy duty surgery I did. So yeah, I’ve got some PTSD stuff going on right now.

It’s also noteworthy that I’ve been switching personalities a lot. Honestly, the only person who should be out with our caregiver is Jordan yet little ones, Joan and Maureen have been out, too. The anxiety levels are very different.

I love that she takes me places. I love that she hasn’t missed a day nor has she been late the whole 4 months she’s been here. We’ve clashed but we’ve not quit on each other. She flipped out once and said some horrible things. I hope she doesn’t believe what she said …….. We primarily get along well.

Today I want to isolate. I want baked goods and endless hours of tiktok. That’s what depression says I want. Well, I’m up now. The tea kettle is on. I’ll sip Earl Gray, change my clothes and fight a little bit.

One secure way to feel better is to reach out and do something for others. A friend that knows I’m struggling is sending an e-card, everyday, for a full month. If that sounds like a lot, the same cherished friend sent me a rose every day for 5 months I was in the hospital. She’s truly a gift. So, what can I do to help someone close to me? I’m going to make two small paintings, one for the person sending me e-cards and one for a different person I know is struggling.

I think I feel well enough now to set a few minor goals for today.

  1. Dust while listening to my book
  2. Clear off my art table
  3. One of two small paintings / greeting cards
  4. Get in a halfway decent meal

Hopefully I can get some more art in my Etsy shop. I’ve got two more on the way.

I’m itching to make dolls again, too. I purchased 3 skeins of yarn yesterday to use for the doll’s hair; plum, burnt orange and honey-flaxen blonde. I want to do the purple first. I keep seeing people with beautiful non-traditional hair colors so I got purple and orange for doll’s hair. I’ll see what my creative side can do with these colors.

Alright, after 2 cups of tea and some typing, I think I’m ready to do part two of today. I feel a little stronger.

Four things I’m grateful for today.

  1. A friend is coming to help with my hospital bed that’s giving me the blues.
  2. I feel a tad bit of motivation. I want to tap into it.
  3. Galaxy Nebula projector that makes being in the dark a bit easier.
  4. You 🙂 for taking the time to read this. Thank you 🙂

Faith

Up Hill Battle – Art in progress

Posted on by Faith

Content – Suicide, no details

I’ve come to understand the semicolon to represent times when a person could have given up but didn’t. This is a miniature 3 part painting in progress. Acrylic and oil on 3×2 wood piece with rounded corners. This is about half way done.

I don’t feel suicidal, nor did. It’s just that a rather triggering conversation came up about suicide. I just sort of painted through the heavy emotions.

The young girl in the original artwork decided to keep going, to never give up. She made it through the darkest times then took the opportunity to appreciate the small things.

Soon to be seen in my Etsy shop.

Faith

Suicide. Secrets. Imaginary boxes.

Posted on by Faith

Subject matter – No details of anything but I do talk about where I am with grief. Very emotional….

I’m all over the place today. Today my CNA asked about K. I basically just said that sometimes young people don’t have enough life experience to fully understand “this too shall pass.” We talked about her children and grandchildren, about life goals and achievements. It was nice. What I didn’t expect to was to have yet another conversation about suicide a little later in the day, online. That conversation felt like it wiped me out. I had a headache by the end of it. I still hope that person is ok.

I’m struggling with concerns about being weird. I don’t know how to change that so that people who are a little more typical won’t run away. I feel like I live a life of secrets sometimes. People in my everyday life can’t know about the Dissociative Identity Disorder. No, most people aren’t able to handle that. Society barely can manage PTSD, they sure don’t need to try to manage the DID. I’d never tell my CNA she has more than one client.

I wonder if there will ever be a space I can share with another human being without fear of being ostracized, without misunderstanding basic human intentions?

I just read that sentence and it occurred to me that I feel alone and lonely.

There are many things that now feel like they fall into the “I can’t” category. I long for adult conversation outside of my apartment, which happens to be an extension of inside my head.

I feel like a trapped animal while sitting in a wheelchair.

Last Monday I talked to Dr D about trying to put away issues I can’t do anything about or that I’ll deal with later. I don’t like the standard way he showed me so I changed it a little bit. He said to visualize putting problems in a box then put the box up. That has worked once for me, but not again, so I changed it a little bit. I have two small treasure chests. One small box holds letters and notes about things I can’t do anything to change. The other treasure box is a little larger and holds issues that I’ll manage at a different time. The two boxes don’t sit out in the open. I put them up.

I have no intention of adding anything at all about K’s death bc it feels like his death is all I have now. I’m afraid to let go of the grief. There are no new memories to be made with him. There’s just grief. If there’s no grief then even the memory of him feels like it will fade. I feel like I’ll fade.

Its odd to hate the grief but still that’s all that’s left. I still see one photo of him in my head. He’s 3. He smiled at me over his shoulder. I think of that photo now and I want to ask him, why did you make me love you if you were just going to leave like that! Why did we survive, what was all that for? I try not to let my head go there too much.

I have a question for him – knowing everything we know / understand now, would you do it all over again? Would you take your life all over again?

Its late. I should eat something. I could use a good meal but that won’t happen until tomorrow.

Faith

Remnants. Art. Seeing.

Posted on by Faith
Behind the curtain. Behind the light.

I’m getting ready to start physical therapy here at home to help some of the healing along due to recent falls. I’m pleased it’s at home. I told the doctor I’m not able to tolerate going to a center for physical therapy because of the setup. There’s too much public activity, noise, movement and touch, for me to be able to think straight and not panic.

The painting shown is still being worked on. It’s one of my collages, which I have found myself drawn to lately. I’ve got many pieces of this and that saved art piece that on their own doesn’t work but added to other cut outs, makes a great piece of art.

This is very indicative of how I’ve been feeling. In my head, I see myself as fractured and torn, both physically and mentally. It feels good to take the remnants of my art pieces (pieces of me) and make something good come out of the broken pieces. It’s similar to what the Japanese do when putting pieces of a broken bowl back together with gold. My goal is to improve self esteem. I also enjoy it.

General updates

  • Soon iI’ll know a decision from my insurance about a new Jazzy Pride electric wheelchair.
  • Joe just turned 14. It makes me a little nervous. His only issue is from the stroke. He doesn’t see as well.
  • Joe is still very much a service cat. He still alerts me to my blood pressure dropping too low.
  • I learned to make sour cream from my homemade yogurt. I’m growing my own ginger and turmeric inside. This growing season I’ll do spinach and salad greens with grow lights. The point of all this homemade stuff is to shave some off my grocery bill.
  • My OCD has been raging but I’ve been able to challenge it. Things go terribly if my thinking is too disordered and I’m overly stimulated. When that happens I have to go on an apology tour.
  • Dissociation and switching has occurred regularly, including switching while my nurse and CNA are here.
  • I’ve been able to paint as before with no real issues. There’s one painting in my Etsy shop.

Another physical change has taken place that affects my art. I can’t see! Dang it! I have to wear glasses to read or see anything in front of me, including my dinner plate. I can see far away, though. I need to see the eye doctor soon for prescription glasses. For now I’ve got bifocals from Amazon. I like them. Life is easier all around with bifocals.

Interesting is that it feels weird painting through glasses. It feels like I now have a physical barrier between me and what I’m creating. It feels like I’ve got my hands through the holes of a glass panel trying to paint or sew on the other side of the window.

Another new tool at home is this comfy Kaftan. I’m obsessed! I also like that I found an Etsy taylor with prettier dresses for the same price. I’m looking to get two more by this summer.

Kaftan’s are user friendly for disabled people with incontinence. I have spastic bladder as a result of the Thrombectomy surgery, which means I have to change depends several times a day. The last thing I want is to take my pants off several times a day because I need to change depends.

These dresses are fun and they are sooo me! I think I’m loving my Oprah glasses and Kaftans. I have one pink, white and green tie dye and one blue, gray, black and white tie dye. Totally me.

Faith / Joan