24 Hours Later

So, here I am after a few hours of raw emotion and new revelations.  I don't like times like that at all.  I don't like how I feel and I don't like that others see and are effected.  And I know that times like those are just another part of this thing we call life.
Mickey, my beloved Partner and so much more, has all along been doing her best in this situation we are in.  She has always tried to keep everyone safe and happy.
I am calmer.  I see things a little differently.  The only thing that I truly can change is myself.  I can walk forward with my family and do my best to bring peace in the stressful times.  I realized strangely enough that I was seeing Andy and his family, as one family and the rest of us as another family.  I was trying to protect my family and it showed in my actions and thoughts.  Crazy thinking on my part for sure.  We are one family.  That is all that matters.

Frustrations

I so want to write about my frustrations, my fears, my panic of the moment.  Stress is through the roof.  For me that means that pain is as well.  I don't know what to do and I don't see a way out.
I am trying to stay calm.  Trying to minimize the effects on my body.  It is not working, but I am trying.
I need help.  We need help.  I am at a loss.
This is the train of thought that I have had all day.  It can so easily send me into a downward spiral.  Yes, I really do need help right now.  Yes, I have no idea what to do.  Yes it is all extremely frustrating.  Worrying over it all is just making me feel worse.  My worry is not going to change the facts.  That doesn't mean that I and my partner haven't been brain storming, we have.  We are trying to keep one another sane and figure out if there are any options.
So far every direction we look is a dead end.  How do we face what looks impossible and not fall apart in the process?  I think it is all in how we each handle frustrations.  Frustration in not knowing where or how we are going to fix the problem we face.  We can stress over it, worry over it and like I was doing today, pull myself into the pits.  Or, we can find another way to deal with how we feel about what is happening.  Still, trying to find a solution.  It is not easy.  This situation feels impossible.  Trying to remember that I have faced very rough times before and made it through.  Need to believe that I will get through this one too.

Being Me

"If your feet are firmly planted on the ground, you will never be able to dance."  A quote by the author, Iris Johansen.  It sure makes me think.  Sometimes I pay too much attention to what someone else might think of me.  I don't want to be seen as a *crazy* person.  I have said that I have my feet firmly planted on the ground.  Meaning of course that I was stable and knew what I was doing.  Meaning that I was grounded in reality.  But, if I am so rigid, how can I dance?  Be creative?  Express myself and simply be who I am?
So many times we hide pieces of ourselves even from our closest friends.  Fearing judgment and rejection.  Definitely not wanting to be seen as crazy or weird!  I have come to a place in my life where I no longer care who knows that I enjoy being spanked.  It is very much a part of who I am.  Now, I don't go about flaunting it, I simply don't hide it and I am not embarrassed or ashamed by it.
Being a spanko is a part of myself that I have been able to completely embrace.
Not every one can.  Some people are in a relationship where their partner doesn't even know they are into spanking.  Some people have partners who do know and want nothing to do with it.  It must be very frustrating to say the least.  I have wondered about the adult who has yearned to be spanked for years and has not been able to find the right person, situation or courage to actually have that desire met.  I have wondered if that unmet desire then turns into an obsession.  I think for myself that it did go that way.
I felt trapped with this longing inside of me.  Yeah, my feet were firmly planted on the ground, but I sure wasn't free to dance.  I wasn't free to just be me.  I longed to be spanked and really had no idea how to go about actually receiving one.  I sure didn't feel like I could start a conversation about it with any of my friends.  Some days, I couldn't really think about anything else.
I honestly do not know what changed in me.  Just over 15 years ago I decided that I really had been living a lie.  I felt that I was being who and what everyone else wanted me to be.  I was not happy at all.  It was a hard decision, but I decided to no longer live a lie.  I wasn't living a lie on purpose.  I was not trying to deceive anyone.  I just was in no way being who I really am with anyone.
Now my feet are not as firmly planted on the ground.  I can dance!

Exhaustion

Dealing with exhaustion is one of the hardest aspects of my life right now.  To be so completely drained that I almost feel totally helpless.  When I want to do something I can only do it for a few moments before exhaustion drains whatever strength I have.  I enjoy coloring very much and even this activity drains the strength in my arms.  Writing out a blog entry is the same way.  Right now I have to take it in small time periods.
The only *cure* for this exhaustion is to take the best care of my body that I can and wait out this episode.  Talk about frustrating.  Some days I just want to throw the towel in and surrender.  Not real sure what that would look like.  I have had my moments of deep self pity.  I have had the moments of wanting to end my life if this is the way it is going to be forever.  These episodes can be that bad emotionally.  There is no way of knowing when or if it will end.  The best that I can hope for is that they have always ended in the past.
It is so much easier to encourage someone else who is going through something like this, than to encourage myself.  Offering hope to someone else is easier than holding onto hope for myself.  I am too young to be so ill, so frail, so weak....

Anne Frank

Yesterday we went to the Holocaust Museum for the Anne Frank exhibit.  Everything about it was sobering.  From entering a place where a shooting had taken place at the opening, going through security and then going through the exhibit itself.  Realizing there are still such high emotions involved for some people.  Mickey and I had a personal tour guide who shared some incredible knowledge.  We found out as well that the chestnut tree that Anne saw from her attic window has had 11 saplings taken from it and donated to cities around the world.  Seattle was a city chosen for one of them.  The sapling will be planted in the Peace Garden at the Seattle Center and dedicated on May 1st.
They were handing out stickers that said, *Change begins with me.*  That is a phrase I have always believed in.  I don't think it is enough to hope for change.  I feel that I must take action.  While there I also got a *worry stone* that has been engraved with the words, Take Action.  Sadly, we still face a world that sees race, religion and skin colors, etc instead of seeing valuable human life first.
Anne Frank was just a young girl writing in her diary.  Writing her thoughts with a voice far beyond her years.  An interview with her father after the war showed him saying that after reading his daughter's diary, he realized that he saw a completely different girl from the child he saw every day that they were hidden away.  Outwardly, she never showed her family what she was truly thinking or going through.  Instead, she put it all in her diary.  Her dream was to be a writer/journalist.  That is what made the decision for her father to publish her works.  Although she was gone from this world, it was his act of love for his daughter, making her dream come true.

Courage

Being Triggered

Honestly, I hadn't thought about this incident in a long time.  Today it came up and slapped me in the face.  Instant tears were running down my cheeks.  There was no way to hold them back.  All the pain of loss and remembering completely took me over.  My partner was with me.  We were simply watching a television show together.  She saw the same image I did, saw me and knew exactly what had happened to me.  The television was shut off and she got in my face, telling me I was okay, that she understood, that she saw the tears and they were ok too.  I could not speak.  She told me that she knew I had loved this other person.  She held me, she helped me up and swatted my backside.  Might sound crazy to someone else, but she was breaking through the flashback and bringing me back to her.  I am glad that she did.  Staying in that pain would not have resulted in a good outcome.
When I started this journey of healing, I was in pretty bad shape.  I didn't understand what was happening to me.  I couldn't think straight.  Fear and anxiety hit the roof and I was not functioning well at all.  Friends were finding me literally under the dining room table curled up into a ball and fighting them if they tried to get me out of there.  I thought I was going insane.  For me, I couldn't think of any other reason that this was happening to me.  I would double over in physical pain or curl up on the sofa.  When I could speak again, all I could say is that it felt like someone just raped me.  Every ounce of me hurt.
See, I have PTSD.  My mind protected me while all the abuse was happening.  When I was in a safer place emotionally and physically, my entire body decided that it was time to deal with the traumas.  Very early on, I met a woman named Ruth.  She was at least 10 years older.  She also had been dealing with almost identical issues for much longer.  Over the next year we became best friends.  We both faced suicidal thoughts frequently.  That made us make a suicide pact.  If we couldn't keep ourselves alive for us, then we would know that if we went through with it, we would also be killing our best friend.  If one of us killed ourselves, the other one would follow within 48 hours.  It actually became a strong deterrent.  I didn't want to be blamed for my best friend's death.  I looked up to her at times.  She was older, stronger and in the lowest of lows we encouraged one another to keep fighting.
I am not strong enough right now to tell much more about Ruth's story or mine.  Ruth did not make it.  She committed suicide.  My therapist at the time, knew of our pact.  When she heard about Ruth's death, she immediately put me in the hospital.  If nothing else, I AM a woman of my word.  Those who knew me, knew that I would follow through.
The picture on the television today was of a woman sitting on a bed and dumping a bottle of pills in her hand to end her life.  It sent my mind and emotions straight back to the moment when I was told that Ruth was dead.  She also had taken all the meds that she had.
Being triggered, is not pleasant at all.  Feeling the original pain all over again doesn't lessen when it is brought up like that.  In that moment, for me, I had just been told that Ruth killed herself.  And yes, our pact slapped me in the face.  I am alive.  I am still fighting.  I am still living and breathing and hurting and growing.  AND, I miss my friend.

Don't Underestimate

Don't underestimate me because I am quiet.  I know more than I say, think more than I speak, and observe more than you know.  Many versions of this quote have been around for a long time.  Mickey would say it fits me to a tee.  I am quiet.  It is a part of my nature.
Here are a few of my own versions.

Don't underestimate my strength simply because my body is weak.  I am stronger than I look, I have survived more than most, and I have helped more than you know.  See the blog on Strength, from earlier this month.

Don't underestimate me because I smile.  I know when you are lying, I hide my emotions well and there is more behind it than you see.

Don't  underestimate me because I am generous.  I give without expectation, I have known both wealth and poverty, and recognize when I am being used.

What would a version from you look like?

Facing Our Truth

So what do you do?  People look at me funny when I tell them that I am retired.  I am too young to actually be retired in the sense that most people think.  It is just easier for me to say that I am retired than to blurt out that I am disabled.  Both are true though.  I am very fortunate in that I do receive a retirement benefit and have a steady income.  The fact that I am disabled has held me back from any sort of traditional *job* at this point in my life.  If I am simply standing or sitting, others can't see that there is anything wrong with my body.  I can stand for short periods of time on a good day.  It is when I move, that the difference is apparent. So many times when I am in my wheelchair, I will be asked what is wrong with me.  The question comes 9 times out of 10 from an older person.  They look at me and wonder why someone as young and as healthy looking as I am, has to be in a wheelchair.  Much of the time it is also from an older woman.  The questions use to irritate the hell out of me.
If you haven't learned this about me yet from my blog, let me just say for the record, I question myself a lot!  I question why I feel the way I do.  Why I react a certain way, etc.  So, eventually, I did question myself about why these questions irritated me so much.  First, what I saw was that they were an invasion of my privacy.  Oh, I had the choice on whether or not to answer them.  I had the choice on how much information I gave them.  I controlled the situation, so why was I still irritated by it?
The answer dawned on me when I was sitting on a plane and an older woman was brought in to sit next to me.  She got all settled in, then turned to me and said, *You don't look disabled at all, what's wrong with you?*  What some people don't know is that there is a place on the airplane set aside for the disabled that are travelling alone.  This woman had seen me in my wheelchair as we waited to board.  They put me on board first and then brought her in.  My wheelchair gone, I look like everyone else.  This woman was demanding of an answer. Her question seemed very judgmental to me.  The plane didn't have any other passengers on it yet and would be a 3 hour flight.  I was stuck next to this woman, up front so the flight attendants can get to us quickly, for at least the next 4 hours.  In all honesty, she was the sweet old grandmother type and at least 80.  But, she wanted an answer and it irritated me.  I am not disrespectful and I wasn't then either.  I politely told her that my legs were not as strong as even hers.  She walked with a cane and had walked with aide from the waiting area and onto the plane.  That explanation was not good enough for her.   She did not have the best hearing, so everything I did say, I had to repeat at least once, louder.  The conversation was ended before we got in the air.  That is when the real answer to why the question irritated me, came to me.
The question forced me to face the *disability* head on.  If I choose to have the conversation, it made me face myself and my physical limitations truthfully.  I did not want to do that.  On that plane, I compared myself to this elderly woman.  She could physically do more than I could.  She had walked in, so her legs were stronger.  She had a very heavy purse which I couldn't pick up, so her arms were stronger.  In that moment, I felt sorry for myself.  Hell, I even wondered what *she* was doing in the handicapped section!
Facing our truths aren't always easy.  It can be made tougher when we feel like something outside of ourselves is making us face that truth.  I was receiving a lot of *inquiring minds want to know* requests and becoming irritated.  Once I realized the why of it, I handled it better.  I faced my truth in that area and came to better terms with it.  Now, I can smile, laugh and in some cases educate another person, when those questions come.
Everyone's truth is different.  We are all unique individuals with a wide range of things that are true about us.  We choose who we share that with.  We also choose how truthful we are with ourselves about it.  I have found that in facing my truths, I also can decide to focus on either the negative or the positive side of that truth.  What my mind dwells on is going to grow one way or the other.  I could have continued feeling sorry for myself with all the *I can'ts*.  Instead, I focused on the fact that I was able to travel alone, I had excellent people who took me to the plane, very attentive service while on the plane, wonderful people meeting me and helping me off the plane, special permissions given for all of those dropping me off and picking me up to be right at the gates to send me off and to pick me up.  Every need was met, and so on.  Strange thing about this event is that it was the last time I was allowed to travel alone.  I am glad to have come to the realization that I did on that plane.  Facing that one small part of my truth changed me for the better.  So, even though it can be difficult, face your truth.  See what good things you can find on the other side of the experience.