A PTSD Triggered Morning

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Morning of November 27th

Wide awake and pitch black. A quick look at the bedside clock reveals it’s only 4:40am. I still have over another hour to sleep.

My mind races with things I’m excited to do today. I don’t know how I could get them done, but I want to try to fit them in if at all possible. I would love to start the holiday baking. I have a scarf to finish and several more origami boxes for gifts to make. And definitely squeeze in a run. An appointment and work are the anchors of what I need to work around. I mentally strategize about how to make the fun stuff happen. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, looking back this crazy thought process was Clue #1 that I was anxious and trying to vet my energy in a positive way.

Then I remember it’s my husband Daren’s birthday! Maybe I should get up and make scones to surprise him with? I can do that, then maybe run before logging into work since I’m teleworking today. That would be a fine start to the day.

I forgo the attempt to go back to sleep and decide on birthday scones. Clue #2 that I wasn’t quite right should have been when I went into the bathroom for my Ayurvedic morning routine and didn’t quite screw a cap back on one of my oils before picking it up again… by the cap. Ugh, what a yucky mess.

I stumble downstairs in the dark, all set to make blueberry scones. The three cats are milling for breakfast and are so very underfoot. The sink is sort of full and the dishwasher needs to be emptied. I need to clear these things to bake—everything is in my way.

My heart starts to race. Clue #3. Things not going the way I expect. I take a deep breath and remind myself that nothing I am doing is truly necessary, has a deadline, and is only something I would like to do—not vital.

For a few minutes I feel calm and present as I put everything away, feed the cats, and rush over to open the blinds. Why am I rushing? Clue #4.

I also notice that last night we left a mess of pillows and blankets strewn all about the living room. Pet toys are everywhere. And there is cat puke to boot. I realize I’m rushing and that opening blinds can take place after I start to bake. Why do I need to keep reminding myself to slow down this morning? Clue #5.

I walk very slowly on purpose back to the kitchen and begin taking out the ingredients and supplies. I preheat the oven, start the coffee maker (how could I not have done that first thing? Clue #6), and begin assembling what I hope to be scones in a short 20 minutes or so.

Moments later my heart starts to race again. My breath is erratic. Clue #7.

Something is so wrong. But what?

Why, last Wednesday evening, did my son Tom snap at me when I asked him to keep the dog’s training collar on? I immediately get angry about this even though I didn’t at the time. The look of disgust on his face 10 minutes later when I asked him politely if something was wrong while I was in this same kitchen at this same counter, assembling the makings of a Thanksgiving dish.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Forget it, Ma! I’m taking the dog for a walk,” as he stormed out the door.

How dare he?

At the time I almost laughed it off. Immediately after the door slammed behind Tom, I asked my husband if I said anything wrong. He affirmed I had not in the very least. Hours later, while at his girlfriend’s house, Tom texted me to say he was sorry about snapping earlier and that he loves me. The whole episode was just not a big deal.

So why am I so upset this morning? Clue #8.

I start mixing the wet ingredients into the dry, being careful not to overmix. As I prepare the counter with a light dusting of flour before turning the dough onto the floured surface, I consider how much I cannot stand when someone accuses me of something I didn’t do and then gets mad at me for it.

Now my heart is really racing. I feel as if my life is at stake and I need to fight for it. Why am I even thinking about this now? Clue #9.

I continue to work, but my hands are shaking. I can’t concentrate. Clue #10.

I want to bring these things up with my son and husband. Unearth them. Find out what they were thinking. Clue #11.

There are two ways this story could go.

I could do just that… or I could remember that I have PTSD.

This morning, thankfully, I went with the latter.

In fact as soon as I came to terms with the very real fact that I have PTSD last summer it was an option at almost all moments when I had this feeling that something was just terribly wrong and at some point it started to feel like my life was at stake. My issue nowadays is that I always feel terrible when I miss the earlier clues. Sometimes I can catch them and breath or take a medication. But today I missed them all before I was fully triggered.

 

As I begin kneading the dough I thought more deeply about what I’m really, really feeling. I was likely triggered by Tom’s reaction simply by being in the kitchen in same way with the same light while it was dark outside. That trigger lead to thinking about my step-son months ago, but it really led all the way deep down into the child inside me that became frozen in a certain state 40+ years ago.

 

Being accused of something that wasn’t my fault, something I didn’t do, or something I couldn’t have possibly known was the norm. It often led to consequences where I was abused, sometimes very badly. My mom was often a bystander, not wanting to be abused herself. She would often look away or side with my father (the perpetrator). Someone standing by while I was unfairly accused hurt even more. Even though he didn’t mean it, Daren keeping his back turned or refusing to talk to me about the supposed wedding cake incident feels like a bystander not helping the child inside me in need.

 

Since this past summer I learned that long-term childhood abuse is particularly complex if it was at the hands of a caregiver, because as a child your actual survival is at stake. You need your caregivers to live. That terrified part of me has become frozen in time. I often handle situations like this and a handful of others that would have led to abuse in a similar manner. During the initial encounter I’m very strong. I act as if nothing is wrong, as I had to do as a child just to get through the episode. Crying wasn’t allowed, even while getting hit- in fact it made things worse. I learned to deal with an incident by being strong and doing whatever I need to do. The hurt, terror and anger always came later and still does until this day when an old wound is rubbed, some time has passed, and my body feels safe and I’m re-triggered. Which often enough strangely leads me to feel as if I’m in survival mode. My heart, my breath, the crazed thoughts. My lower brain’s alarm signals to me that I need to fight for my rights, get out, get even, I’m being wronged, etc.

 

We all have that lower brain (the reptilian one without higher rational thought-like a crocodile). Mine recognizes triggers that were necessary for survival long ago and all our lower brains possess the ability to shut down the executive functioning portion of the brain if survival really is at stake when we need to flight, flight or freeze. It’s how we are built. The problem with PTSD is that sometimes the danger is only perceived and not even real. If the person doesn’t catch it, they have an episode which isn’t pretty. When I’m already anxious before I’m triggered I’m far more likely to not notice.

 

While folding blueberries into the scone dough, my higher and lower brain were in conflict. The part that I innately identify as me (more or less the higher, rational thinking part of the brain) was telling myself I was alright, I’m only in my kitchen; totally safe- I am and will be ok.

 

This part of my physical symptoms of being triggered are where adrenaline has entirely flooded my body. I can feel it’s desperate need to be released. I start to boil with heat. I hyperventilate and often cry uncontrollably. The next few hours are always recovery. Sometimes this happens often – several days in a row. I’m told it’s normal as you are going through PTSD treatment to go through time periods like this. When a childhood trauma victim feel safe as an adult- however many years or decades later, the body begins healing itself through bringing up old cellular memories in order to rid the body of deep-rooted habits/reactions/etc that no longer serve it.

 

I put the scones in the oven and set the timer. I’m lost. What was I going to do next? Did I make the coffee yet? I’m dazed, I’m confused, I’m sad… I’m just overwhelmingly dysfunctional. Daren comes down. Today I can explain my full thought process. We hug. I cry. I can hardly pick up a cup without almost dropping it. The scones are ready. We enjoy them although I can’t finish even one.

 

Sounds crazy? Yes, I know. But overall, I’m feeling better day by day. I know I need to go through this to get over/past/through – however it’s best phrased “it”. I continue to be patient and greet whatever arises, being careful to not get suckered into false alarms. That’s the trickiest part.

But I’m OK. I’m enjoying the healing, one cell at a time.

 

Social Media Disclaimer:

Many people often ask me why I so freely share my troubles. I share because I’ve found shame for so long in not being perfect. I’ve felt for too long like damaged goods I’ve learned none of us could ever be perfect and to even try to entertain such a thing or put on that façade is a set up for failure and takes WAY too much energy. We all suffer and we can only gain strength with connection. So I’m living the change I’d like to see by normalizing what is after all very normal.

 

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On Understanding Panic Disorder

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I almost don’t know how to start this. Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting millions of adults every year.

I am one of those people who suffer. When I’m in panic, it’s almost as if a doppelgänger took over my body. So many people do not understand what happens and that the person has no control over how they feel. Stress and cortisol flood the body.

Last night I had a panic attack. I actually had several in the past week, and 4 or 5 just yesterday alone. What made my last two particularly long and painful is that other people were home and weren’t reacting compassionately. They live with me and don’t quite understand what I go through, how painful it is, and how little to no control I have over how I feel or can possibly react. I can empathize and understand that it can be scary to someone else—really I can. I don’t want to be in full-blown panic either, believe me—way more so than the people around me don’t want to see it.

A key driver is understanding. Panic disorder with panic attacks is not something that can be helped in the moment or have a lid put on it. What makes it all so much worse is when those around you judge you and believe mental health issues are something that can simply be controlled. I’m writing this because if my own household doesn’t quite understand what this is about, how can anyone else? I need to do my part in spreading awareness.

I didn’t know much about true anxiety either. Why should I? We throw the word around a lot. Many of us live with low-level anxiety constantly. As a society, we are mostly all anxious. Anxiety and panic disorder are a little different. Nervousness and anxiety can both cause similar symptoms, but normal nervousness—like before a big presentation or applying for a job—is tied to a real situation and passes. Panic disorder is not like that.

I’ve read a lot about anxiety in the past two years since I’ve been diagnosed. Stress is prevalent in our culture. A large part is due to technology and the constant bombardment of information. Also, the ability for others to reach into our lives at any moment—through social media, texting, email—creates a constant sense of urgency. When I was younger and we had a house phone attached to a wall, leaving work meant the day was done. No one was creating new demands through texts and emails late into the evening.

Now, something as simple as a phone notification at 9pm can cause our heart rate to increase and create a false sense of urgency. Whether it’s from a loved one or your boss, the body reacts as if something is wrong. For most people, that feeling fades quickly. For those of us with an anxiety disorder, it doesn’t go away—it escalates.

A panic attack can feel like your body suddenly believes it is in danger, even when nothing is actually happening. Your heart races, your breathing changes, your chest feels tight, and your body prepares to fight or run. Rational thinking goes offline. It is not the time to reason through it or try to explain it away.

With panic disorder, the body goes into full fight-or-flight mode without a real, present threat. It differs for everyone, but for me, I am often triggered by something external that was threatening in the past. Many times I cannot initially identify the trigger. It is almost impossible to do so when the brain is flooded and executive functioning shuts down.

I want to feel normal and not panic more than anything. Riding it out, medicine, and therapy are helpful, but it took years for my body to become this dysregulated. It likely will not go away overnight.

I can tell you what makes it worse for me:

Being with someone during a panic attack who doesn’t understand and becomes annoyed or frustrated. I can’t be helped in that moment. Someone in my face trying to rationalize it feels condescending. Being ignored feels humiliating and similar to abandonment. I’m already overwhelmed—those reactions only intensify it.

Another difficult experience is trying to hide it so as not to scare others. That creates another layer of pressure. I’ve had panic attacks on airplanes, in restaurants, at work, while driving, while getting ready for bed, and even when waking up. When people pretend nothing is happening, it makes me feel like something is wrong with me—like I need to be hidden.

And then there is the shame. The feeling that you need to hide such a significant part of your experience from others. Our society does not always respond kindly to mental health struggles. Before experiencing this myself, I also believed it was something that could be controlled. Last summer I spent a full month in an Intensive Outpatient Program, but I was afraid to tell people why I was on leave. If I felt that way, I’m sure others do too.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. If you don’t struggle with mental health (and that’s wonderful), it’s very likely you know someone who does—you just may not realize it. Let’s do our part to bring awareness and approach one another with compassion instead of judgment.

We are all human. Let’s treat one another as such.

Peace.

Anxiety and Depression Association of America https://adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics#
We Need to Talk. Our Society Has an Issue With Anxiety and Mental Health. https://futurism.com/we-need-to-talk-our-society-has-an-issue-with-anxiety-and-mental-health/amp/
How to Handle Someone Else’s Anxiety or Panic Attacks https://medium.com/@gtinari/how-to-handle-someone-elses-anxiety-or-panic-attacks-51ee63f5c23b
How to Help Someone Having a Panic Attack https://m.wikihow.com/Help-Someone-Having-a-Panic-Attack
Mental Health America http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/may

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

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Running 

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Monday, July 18, 2016 around 8:15pm

Daren and I are on a small little puddle jumper plane to Toronto, en route to Vancouver for the week for a conference of his. We had been rushing all afternoon to make this flight. Once we arrived at the gate, it was delayed. We grabbed a quick bite—some apps and an IPA—only to learn the plane was somehow leaving on time. We rushed back to the gate and jumped on.

I was stressing the whole drive home from work today, realizing how poorly my organization treats its employees. I don’t know if I want to work for an organization like that any longer.

As soon as we sat down in our seats, I was incredibly thirsty and had severe indigestion from scarfing down unhealthy food and rushing around. Then, as soon as the plane took off and my body started to vibrate, it was like a wave of emotions was free to course through me. I started to sob uncontrollably beneath the sound of the loud engines and had my first panic attack in the last five weeks.

Daren held me tight and stroked my hair, asking me to talk to him. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what was wrong. Finally, he asked if it was those jokers at work, and I realized it was. My job really got to me today. Upon that realization, I broke down even more—now aware of what it was. The release of pent-up emotions was a welcome relief from the burden of stress that had been building over the past week.

Daren encouraged me to think about leaving my job again. Then he pointed out the beautiful sunset we were flying right into. Literally, right now, I am flying off into the sunset.

Is it time for a change?

 

Wednesday, July, 20, 2016 8:33am

Just taking a break after a 3-mile run on a beautiful pedestrian pathway in Vancouver, BC. What a beautiful morning. The temperature is only 62 degrees. I’m sitting on the water in Stanley Park. I’m so lucky to be alive and have this opportunity to explore a new city and travel.

As I was running, I was thinking about the Gwen Stefani song “Running.” It’s playing in my mind now. One day back in April, on the way home from work, I heard this song for the first time in years, and for some reason it made me cry.

I thought about Daren and how, since the moment I met him, we have been literally running. The pace of my life picked up tenfold—and not all for good reason or measure. My stress started to grow then, and it accumulated until I literally crashed after six years.

Blending a family is not easy. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, and it has both broken and built us. We are stronger than ever as individuals and as a couple, but the path was ugly and very difficult. I wish someone had told me how hard it was going to be and helped guide us through the changes we were inevitably going to face.

It’s really time to stop running.

What’s next for me?

To even think about exploring that, I need to slow down and enjoy this most amazing journey and gift of life. I’ll continue to run for exercise and keep the old ticker in shape—but no more running through my life.

Thank you, panic attacks, for being my warning signal—showing me what I can handle and helping me stop and literally see the gorgeous sunset I’m flowing into as my life changes in the most beautiful ways.

Slower is better.

Time is really our enemy. Time and money, separation, being on the run… (Thanks, Pink Floyd—Dark Side of the Moon.)

I could write a whole book about the meaning of that album—maybe some other day.

For now, I need to run back 3 miles to the hotel, shower, and enjoy my slow, no-rush day while continuing my journey of contemplating how to be my best self in the world using what I’ve been given by this beautiful and expansive universe.

Namaste.

 

No Doubt lyrics (because they inspired me to stop, sit on a bench and write this morning while on a long jog)

Run, running all the time

Running to the future

With you right by my side

 

Me, I’m the one you chose

Out of all the people

You wanted me the most

And I’m so sorry that I’ve fallen

Help me up, let’s keep on running

Don’t let me fall out of love



Running, running, as fast as we can

Do you think we’ll make it?

(Do you think we’ll make it?)

We’re running, keep holding my hand

So we don’t get separated

 

Be, be the one I need

Be the one I trust most

Don’t stop inspiring me

 

Sometimes it’s hard to keep on running

We work so much to keep it going

Don’t make me want to give up

 

Running, running as fast as we can

I really hope we make it

(Do you think we’ll make it?)

We’re running, keep holding my hand

So we don’t get separated


The view I’m seeing as I write this while sitting on a dedicated bench. Thank you Jean Mary Kendall Eligh and your family. I have enjoyed a piece of your memory today. ☮

 

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