My Mose

 

I have never felt as lonely as I do right now. 

I have been alone, without a partner or children off on their own, for much of my adult life. Partners have come and gone, mostly gone. Children grow up and do what they are supposed to do, start their own lives. I see and recognize all of this. Sometimes it has felt harder than others. 

But I've always had a dog. 

And for the last 14+ years, I've had Mosley. 

I don't have Mosley anymore and, as I said, I have never felt as lonely as I do right now. 

I know he needed to go, his quality of life was not good or even fair anymore. but I feel like I've lost a limb. I find myself looking for him and being ready to do whatever he needs ( go out? Come in? eat? get a brushing and a hug?)

Mose was always within a few feet of me if possible. We both liked it that way. Working from home has been such a blessing for us both, as much for me as him. I loved nothing more then to dig my bare toes into his furry side as he snored under my desk while I did my job. My lovely furry boy. 

I am realizing, now that he's gone , just how much of my life is based around his needs. 

Gladly I stayed in at night.

Gladly I didn't make plans that took me away for more than a few hours.

Gladly I didn't seek out companionship, it was too hard with Mose. (He did not like to share me. Which was fine with me.)

I can hear your responses. 

" try to get out of the house!" 

" go for a walk with friends"

"call someone and talk". 

And I will do some of that. But I want my dog. I want Mose. 

I WANT him. 

I went through some bad times in the recent last few years, times when I was awash with grief and sadness and overwhelming anxiety. 

But I had Mose. He was always right there. 

Right there. 

I know it will ease, 

I know it will get better. 

I'll move forward because I have to. 

I have amazing friends that I will see, I will be with my kids and my grandkids.

I'll do things, get out of the house, work and shop and go for walks. 

This pain, I assume, will lessen. 

I will not have another dog. My circumstances and my heart will not allow it. I have 2 cats, who are generous but inconsistent with their attention. They are much more interested in what I can do for them. They do not have the unwavering adoration that my dog had for me nor do I for them. 

But they distract me and that's good. They give me a reason to get up, if only to feed them. 

I'll be fine. But I want my dog. 

SG

Soothing your soul

Most of us, without being told, would recognize that reading is good, as in:  good for you.  There are benefits from reading. We just kind of accept that this is true. 

A small amount of research on my part (ok, I googled it) backs this statement up with a list of actual health benefits of reading. 

- Reading reduces stress. 

- Reading helps you sleep better. 

- Reading keeps your mind sharp.

- Reading can improve your relationships. (Not sure I buy this one although I can see how it may help develop empathy for others) Some would argue that me having my nose stuck in a book did not enhance the relationship. 

**https://www.piedmont.org/living-real-change/health-benefits-of-reading

These are just a few kind of obvious and easy to find benefits of picking up a book you enjoy and spending time with it. 

I have always been a reader.

 It was my  life line when I was a kid in a dysfunctional family, it was my escape during the parts of my life that were tedious or difficult. It added to the joy during the joyful times, creating another layer to celebrate. Getting lost in a book was the best thing I could always do for myself. I could depend on it in a way that I couldnt depend on much else. I pretty much always had a book with me, always had one going and a couple ready to go. I loved to talk about books and find new authors that spoke to me. 

So many hours curled up reading! There was nothing like a lazy summer morning on the front porch swing reading, or hiding somewhere that I could read in peace, because reading in my family was not valued. I read on the family Sunday "drives" and got big grief for it.  We were a family of farmers and I was constantly chided for "wasting time" reading. 

But I still did. I had to. 

I spent time soaking up the fuel to go forward as if it was an investment, because it was.  Reading gives you a way to learn about things that you never even could have imagined, things like other people's feelings and inner lives. Reading took me places that I would never get to see in my actual life. It helped me understand so much of the world that was otherwise so hard to comprehend. Reading made me a liberal surrounded by conservatives (as if I didnt already stand out!). 

I didn't go to college until I was in my 30's. I was a single mom of 2 young kids and it's safe to safe that I was living a pretty narrow existence. I had grown up in a very conservative and intolerant part of the country. The writers, and thinking, that I was introduced to in college changed my life. People like Barbara Ehrenreich, Robert Putnam, Maya Angelou, Ruth Harriet Jacobs, Langston Hughes for pete's sake!! And so many more! I had never been exposed to these new ideas and I soaked it up. Gratefully. 

The friends I made from reading! Trixie Beldan and her gang, solving mysteries and exploring young love, Anne of Green gables with her sassiness and naiveté at the same time, the absolute satisfying fantasy of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I could go on and on. I loved the classics as much as the trashy novels ( I had quite the Danielle Steele era)  Everyone should have these experiences, or something similar to have stored away in their subconscious selves. It helps us in ways that aren't recognized in an academic article necessarily. 

But for a couple of years recently, when I was going through some "stuff", (covid, a family member dying of cancer, kid in trouble) I couldn't read. 

I just couldn't.

 I couldn't find the reserves I needed to focus on the page in front of me. My usual tools had left me. My anxiety was twanging at high velocity for weeks and weeks. I had too many raw edges exposed and was just not able to engage. I know now that I was in a sort of survival mode and reading was not on Maslow's hierarch of needs.   It both baffled and frustrated me because I needed it. I needed my reading. I needed to escape and sooth myself in a way that I had never needed so deeply. 

Not being able to read left me floundering. I tried to watched tv, which is an escape but not what I needed. I was too dysregulated to find something to focus on. Meanwhile, life was happening. I needed to function. I needed to be out in the world somewhat but honestly Covid could not have happened at a better time for me. I had an excuse to be home, where I felt the most safe. 

But I needed to read. 

So I kept trying. 

I tried old favorites and some of them worked briefly but not enough to do the job. People suggested books, but I quickly realized anything with "suspense" or "thriller" in the description was not good. It triggered a physical reaction, same with anything  too emotional or ...fraught. 

I would spiral and not be able to recoup for days.

Crying became very very tedious.  

 So no. 

I was craving the solace found in losing yourself in a place you've never been with people you would never meet but might like to.  

I kept trying. 

Finally, FINALLY, when life started to smooth just a tiny bit, I tried an author  who simply wrote good stories. They were set in the English countryside for the most part, there were families that had just a little bit of struggle but not enough to leave me anxious. They were intelligent enough to challenge me. My friend Amy calls these books "light but not stupid". 

I got every one of her books that I could find and read them. Then I found some others from a light hearted Scottish author, same MO, just good stories. I started to feel I was less anxious, less "wound", able to sooth myself. 

I also realized that binging old tv shows helped on a similar level. Anything that I didnt have to pay too close attention to. Having Mary Tyler Moore on while I cooked or puttered was good. It was the same with Sex and the City ( dont disparage that show if you're tempted! Im convinced there is an episode for every life event!) I binged all of Cheers and Frasier, Gilmore Girls, and Modern Family. I felt sad when I reached the end of a series but there's always another. I finally got around to watching Big Bang Theory! I tried, and failed, with a few. West Wing was an unmitigated disaster. 

The shows let me get stuff done without thinking too much. But the reading was the gift. The gift of lying on the couch and actually relaxing, shutting down my mind and body. Being able to read again gave me back the inner resources to function. 

I again was so grateful. 

And now I work in a library! You can find me on Saturdays at the circulation desk in our small town library. Talk about a gift! For this introvert it is the perfect amount of social contact. I feel connected to the town and can talk about books all day. I go home completely drained but it's a joy. And because of it, I've found other authors that I can lose myself with. 

I may always deal with a bit of anxiety ( see my earlier post on PTSD), but knowing how to sooth myself is a tool that I will also always have. And there's a heck of a lot of books out there. 

S'all good

SG

A nice life

Wow, it's been a really long time since I have finished a blog post enough to publish it. I guess I waited until I had something to say. 

 I have a nice life, nothing fancy but solidly good. 

Friends, family, a job I enjoy. I live in a town where the church bell  strikes on the hour and you can hear the paper mill whistle at 7 am. I live close to the lake in the center of town and walk the dog down to the “point” at least once a day. We also walk the rail trails all over town, running into neighbors and catching up on how every one is.  

I love it here in this small town. 

But then there's this. 

A little over a  year ago I was diagnosed with PTSD. Actually CPTSD - Complex Post traumatic stress disorder. I am not going to bore you with the textbook definition of Cptsd, you can look it up or not, but trust me when I say it's there. 

I am not happy about this diagnosis, in many ways it makes me feel "less than". 

But I am also relieved at some level. It explains a lot.

A LOT. 

It explains why I need to be alone. A lot. A REAL lot. Why sometimes leaving the house and being around people is just way more than I can do. 

It explains why I get panicky and short of breath when I think about having to do certain things. 

It explains the HUGE reactions to "small" things.

It explains why I dont really listen to music much, ( there's enough going on in my head already) or enjoy anyplace with a lot of noise. 

It explains my difficulty with change, especially unexpected. 

It explains most of my sleep difficulties and nightmares. 

It explains a lifelong pattern of unhealthy choices. (3 divorces! lots of job hopping!)

and on and on....

I was taking the assessment because of wanting a medical cannabis card for sleep and pain. Taking the assessment was a revelation. 

The questions caught me off-guard. I felt so exposed. 

"Wait!! You know about that?!? You know that happens?!"

 Having the layer of pretense peeled back by the clinician was revelatory for me. 

It told me that this stuff happens to OTHERS! That in itself was hugely comforting and regulating for me. 

It doesn't really matter why I have CPTSD ( it's kind of a death by a thousand cuts situation) but suffice it to say there has been a life time of  abuse, many losses, trauma, and then a couple of huge events more recently. Not to mention "THE TIME OF COVID" ( this should be accompanied in your head by blaring trumpets). 

There has been a lot of research around the science of CPTSD and how it affects us. Here is a good explanation that I found helpful

So what happens now?

That was my question. I mean, just having a diagnosis doesnt really change anything in a big way. But what I am finding is that it changes things in small ways that add up to big ways. I feel empowered to take control of this, to learn about how to help myself and get on track for some real healing. I pay attention to my reactions now instead of denying or hiding them.

And I also feel like I finally have a road map to building the kind of life that nurtures me instead of constantly feeling like I am swimming upstream or butting my head against a wall. 

I've given myself permission to not work in Human Services anymore, which was HARD for me. It has been a big part of my identity for many years. Many CPTSD folks like to help. It's how we feel valued and recognized. It was not an accident that I was in a profession that helped others but drained me. 

 Why talk about this you may ask? 

Well, I think it helps, not just me or any other person with CPTSD, but also OTHERS who may have someone in thier life who seems like they are struggling. There is a good chance that that person has had trauma of some kind that is unprocessed and interferring in thier life. That is maybe affecting thier decision making or social skills or even just how they are able to move around in the world. Maybe you or someone else reading this will recognize some of what Im saying about yourself, and get some recovery skills and relief. Resources are out there. 

I think it helps, to talk and listen and pull it all out into the light. The whole topic of Mental Health is a big one and one that deserves conversation and recognition. We need and deserve to know what it looks like and how to help both ourselves and others. 

I feel lucky to have people in my life that keep inviting me places even though I rarely accept. I feel lucky to have a work and home life that allows me to care for myself in a nurturing way. I think this is possible because I DID pull it into the light. 

So, I am still here. paying attention and choosing carefully and enjoying the parts that work. 

s'all good, 

SG