Aftermath

  "Teach me Your ways, O Lord, that I may live according to Your truth!" Psalm 86:11 

  It's a mess, this trying to make sense out of chaos. I spent time in prayer yesterday trying to unravel the birthplace of panic attacks. No. It's really trying to find grace and acceptance that this is simply something I have to live with unless, of course, the Lord takes it away.

  Maybe if I explain it will help. Every day I live with the shadow of complex PTSD wrapped around my heart. Unlike situational PTSD which has a wonderful recovery rate with counselling and help, the complex version is just that: complex. It is the result of experiencing many traumatic events which may or may not be related to each other. The emotional and mental responses to trauma are usually the same.

  While the traumatic events in my life may not always be similar, without support, there was no addressing these things when they happened. This is what I prayed about in a written flow chart that revealed the interconnectedness of it all. 

  It was pretty ugly and very triggering so I tore the page from my hardcover sketchbook. This is something I rarely do. It was folded into a tiny package. On the back, I wrote a prayer giving it all to God. This heavy, heavy load was sealed in packing tape and tossed in the garbage.

  Cricket did what she needed to do to survive. The foundation was established at a very early age that emotional suppression was the only option. Emotional expression was being naughty, silly, juvenile, and it didn't matter if it was joy or sorrow. Any display of emotion was considered improper and shameful. 

  A sensitive child, Cricket learned to numb the pain and the joy. She learned to disassociate and disconnect because there was no other option in dealing with the unnamed and inexpressible feels that rose up inside. 

  Cricket had no champion, no comforter. She learned she was alone and that she had to be strong and grown up. 

  By the time we were seven, a form of depression called Dysthymia set in. The foundation for developing complex PTSD was firmly established. So were the coping mechanisms.

  The disconnect still happens when the feels get too big, when the world is too loud, too busy. Most of the time, I am completely unaware it's happening because the lifelong coping mechanisms are so deeply entrenched and automatic. Until the lid blows because I am not as strong as I used to be.

  And I am ashamed of this public display of emotion so very few people even realize I am falling apart. I guess this makes me a master of pretending everything is just fine. To do otherwise is utterly shameful...and those aren't God's words!

  What would have happened if I had allowed myself to fall apart on stage? If I'd "made a scene?" What if I had allowed people to see the real me? Why is this such a bad thing?

  Cricket knows. Being vulnerable is dangerous. The predators will pounce. That is the legacy of trauma and abuse.

  It's not being hard on myself, it's being hard on Cricket who never learned a better way to experience and work through emotions. 

  I am grateful the Lord has unlocked my heart and enabled me to experience deep and intense emotion. The emotional world is a far richer experience than I ever thought possible because the sensitive child has matured into a sensitive adult. It's why I know heartbreak is a real thing: it feels as though your heart is being torn in two and the physical pain of this runs from hips to shoulders. Without having felt this pain, there would be no place for healing to begin.

  So Lord, today I give you Cricket's emotional pain: the shutting down, the utter loneliness, shame, fear, guilt, resentment, anger, distrust, shock...but most of all I give you her acceptance of a burden that never, ever should have been put on a child's shoulders. Please, take this burden from us, O Lord, my Abba Father, because we are terribly tired of carrying it. In Jesus' name I pray. AMEN!

  PS: It's much later because I sat on this post for a couple of hours trying to decide whether or not to share. The tears came and with them, release. 

  I am also left with deep gratitude for the tremendous healing that has happened as I have leaned into Jesus' perfect love. Panic attacks used to be a daily event.

  There's another burden I'd like to lay at the foot of the cross...the fear of losing control and trust me, a panic attack is control going out the window..so while I can hide it, it takes every ounce of strength to do so. Lord, forgive me when I feel it's up to me to stop this "nonsense" because, truth be told, there's no stopping it when it happens. 

  Help me be patient. Help me not get so angry. Help me forgive the teachers whose lessons forged the chains that bind. Help me finally accept the limitations and effects of living with complex PTSD. Help me find grace and peace. Most of all, help me reach out for help, to say the words, "I am in trouble," when the panic/overwhelm starts to gather momentum. In Your Name I pray. AMEN!