Retrain the Brain

I want to talk about "parts" again.  To survive tough stuff, especially in childhood, the brain actually divides into different parts to helps you to survive and stay calm and protected.  The problem is, though, this often sticks into adulthood.  People who have survived trauma have complicated thought patterns that have protected them.  I am learning to literally retrain my brain.  To help it think in the here and now.

I am learning to be gentle with myself.  I have been harsh with myself and with my brain for years now.  I am actually learning to accept my brain as good.

All of the different parts that have acted out in psychosis had a purpose...to protect and keep me safe from pain, from shame.  When a psychotic thought pops up, I just say..."Oh there you are.  Thank you so much for helping me...you helped me survive a lot of really hard things.  Bless you.  Now can you just help me make these peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for my kids?"  And this WORKS!  It is amazing.

My Unlikely Tattoo

The summer of 2014 I would have rage.  So much rage that I didn't really know what to do with it.  I would hop in the minivan and listen to chick metal. Then one day, while in Asheville (in a fit of both anger and believing I was an "infinite one" I googled, angrily, "hebrew word for infinite one."  Up popped an image.  Perfect.  I'll drive to the closest tattoo parlor and get that image on my arm.  That will show everyone.

Let me now introduce the traumatized brain, as it has been explained to me by my doctor and therapist.

When I was fourteen, the FBI raided my house in search of my daddy who I really loved.  Long story short, he turned himself in.  That would be the end of our relationship.

For several years leading up to that, he would confide in me.  He would tell me secrets...grand secrets...and tell me not to tell anyone, not even my mother.  I felt special.

Because of these things (all traumatic and abusive) my brain helped me to survive by developing "parts."  For example, I have a missionary part that helps save the world (On the day that the FBI came, that story line started in my head and continued for many years).  I also have an angry middle schooler (who got the tattoo).  I am in the process of helping these parts heal, retraining them...letting them know that it is safe now.  They are free to just help me raise my kids.

So...my tattoo.  I'm not a tattoo person, but then...when I came out of the psychosis, I had this tattoo...which was actually misspelled in Hebrew and it doesn't even mean anything.  So I felt shame for several months.  Until I realized that I needed to love and care for that part...who didn't know what else to do.  So I have an unlikely, but now loved, tattoo.

It makes me angry that so many people who are considered mentally ill are probably just traumatized (that's what my doc tells me).  They really can get well...because after 10 years of horror, I am getting well.

For 10 Years

I was pretty sick mentally for 10 years.  I had five psychotic breaks during this time with the last one ending up in the hospital.

This kind of sickness is the worst.  During the ten years, I was birthing and raising four kids.  Looking back, I felt pain, lots of pain during this time and I didn't know what it was from or what to do with it.  I developed some addictions.  I just wanted this massive amount of pain and shame gone. As the years progressed, hope began to elude me.  I didn't feel that comfortable with church.  Or the medical community.  I was told by several doctors that how I felt (which was horrible) would just be my plight in life.  No wonder people commit suicide.  People with mental illness already feel horrible.  Then there is the stigma which can really do you in.

I wanted those close to me to just ask me how I was doing.  To listen. To treat me with respect. To ask  questions. 

I'm grateful for the handful of friends and family who did just that.  Now that I am feeling better and can think about others a little better, I'm really grateful for those close to me who were patient.  And for those who prayed.  This has gotten me to the place I am now.  My husband and family and friends were like farmers.  Gently tending and loving, watching and waiting.

And God.  Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit.  They heard.  They were present.  I cried out, it didn't fall on deaf ears although it sure felt like it.  God's ways are higher.  Much higher.

I have hope.  I don't just have to be mentally ill.  

6-4-16

I have been sick for the past two summers.  Two summers ago I was psychotic for four months.  But really for the past ten years I haven't been well.

Today I'm thankful.  Through my amazing therapist, I am learning that my psychosis came from trauma...and then from further trauma from being sick all those years.  Thoughts that would have terrified me years even months ago, I am learning to master.  These thoughts came from parts inside me that developed in order to survive horrible trauma.  I would have never believed that I would feel this great, this normal, this at peace.  It's been work...feeling pain, confronting things that were really hard, but I am getting better.

Everyone around me sees it too.  Thankful that I'm sitting here...with my awesome campfire candle...having gotten through another summer day (which is usually my worst time).