Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Therapy has a way of bringing all the ghosts from your earlier life to the surface. For me the last nine months have felt something akin to raising the Titanic from the seafloor. It has been an arduous and painstaking process. But I am certainly getting some results. I am getting great results in fact. It just takes time to heal from a legacy that includes so much dysfunction. And it is taking me some time also to really appreciate just how long I was carrying around buried pain.
I met with my therapist yesterday. I am attempting to reconstruct my earlier life history. Why? I want to put together this complicated puzzle partly because I want my therapist to eventually prepare some sort of statement in which he will offer an educated guess as to when (roughly) I developed PTSD. As a means of answering this big question I brought a collection of letters written between my father and mother's family when I was a child. Through reading and re-reading these letters I am able to assemble something of a clearer version of my history. And by assembling this history I hope to gain greater insight into my own self, my development and how to finally move past all the pain and grief I carried for so long.
As I read through the letters yesterday I could not help but feel immense pain as I appreciate more deeply how much my own mother suffered with illness for so much of her life. It's tragic when a parent loses a child. It's also tragic when a child loses a parent. I still cannot understanding the thinking that informed some of her choices. I still find it difficult to comprehend why she spent a portion of her life in El Paso, Texas when, as far as I know, she had no connections of blood or friendship to draw her there. Most of the time she was living in Texas she resided in the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex where she lived with my father and me. Though schizophrenia is still mysterious in some respects it certainly is better understood now as compared to the 1970s.
As I read through the letters (which do not represent all the correspondence that ever was passed between my two parents' families) I also cannot help but wonder about my father. Was he indeed traumatized during his time in the Army at a time in his life before I was even born? And if this were in fact true wouldn't that mean that both of my parents have essentially been afflicted with some form of mental health problem the entire time I have been alive? What a horrifying thought to contemplate that this could in fact be true. It's a very painful possibility to contemplate. I would rather not entertain such a thought. I do not believe there is therapeutic value in doing so. And yet it is difficult not to allow my mind to wander to this possibility.
The best that I can do for myself now is to heal from the impact my own earlier (chosen and unchosen) life history had upon me. I can't save my mother or father from their own issues and regrets. I can only take care of me and do the best I can for myself. Considering all that I have been through it's often wondrous (in my opinion) that I am as healthy as I am. My emotional scars do not show (too) prominently.
Though grief and sadness still are with me each and every day I do feel something lighter growing within me. I cannot yet clearly foresee the end of my current therapeutic process. But I also cannot very clearly see the beginning that took place some nine months ago. I am well on my way on this healing journey. Some say healing is a lifelong process. Perhaps this is true. And I suppose I can accept that. I simply want to get through the densest part of my suffering and grief. As spring tentatively appears here in Minnesota I feel myself coming back to life more and more. I want to believe the best years of my life are ahead of me. I believe I can make it be so.
...
My visit to my primary care doctor went well. There were no major issues for me to discuss. My next appointment with him is in late June on the one year anniversary...or when all hell broke loose.
Here is something I am noticing. Each day the world is growing a bit brighter as the days continue to lengthen. And as the days lengthen I am reminded again and again of the gift of my renewed and clarified eyesight. I imagine it will be a fascinating world by the time of the Summer Solstice in June!
In May I will be taking a break from this blog. And yet you will still see entries appear each day. I will post the journal entries I made during my trip to Germany in May, 2013. I will resume writing on June 1st.
Five things I am grateful for today:
Sunlight
My immune system
My desire to write
The friends I have who have remained loyal
My health insurance
Therapy has a way of bringing all the ghosts from your earlier life to the surface. For me the last nine months have felt something akin to raising the Titanic from the seafloor. It has been an arduous and painstaking process. But I am certainly getting some results. I am getting great results in fact. It just takes time to heal from a legacy that includes so much dysfunction. And it is taking me some time also to really appreciate just how long I was carrying around buried pain.
I met with my therapist yesterday. I am attempting to reconstruct my earlier life history. Why? I want to put together this complicated puzzle partly because I want my therapist to eventually prepare some sort of statement in which he will offer an educated guess as to when (roughly) I developed PTSD. As a means of answering this big question I brought a collection of letters written between my father and mother's family when I was a child. Through reading and re-reading these letters I am able to assemble something of a clearer version of my history. And by assembling this history I hope to gain greater insight into my own self, my development and how to finally move past all the pain and grief I carried for so long.
As I read through the letters yesterday I could not help but feel immense pain as I appreciate more deeply how much my own mother suffered with illness for so much of her life. It's tragic when a parent loses a child. It's also tragic when a child loses a parent. I still cannot understanding the thinking that informed some of her choices. I still find it difficult to comprehend why she spent a portion of her life in El Paso, Texas when, as far as I know, she had no connections of blood or friendship to draw her there. Most of the time she was living in Texas she resided in the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex where she lived with my father and me. Though schizophrenia is still mysterious in some respects it certainly is better understood now as compared to the 1970s.
As I read through the letters (which do not represent all the correspondence that ever was passed between my two parents' families) I also cannot help but wonder about my father. Was he indeed traumatized during his time in the Army at a time in his life before I was even born? And if this were in fact true wouldn't that mean that both of my parents have essentially been afflicted with some form of mental health problem the entire time I have been alive? What a horrifying thought to contemplate that this could in fact be true. It's a very painful possibility to contemplate. I would rather not entertain such a thought. I do not believe there is therapeutic value in doing so. And yet it is difficult not to allow my mind to wander to this possibility.
The best that I can do for myself now is to heal from the impact my own earlier (chosen and unchosen) life history had upon me. I can't save my mother or father from their own issues and regrets. I can only take care of me and do the best I can for myself. Considering all that I have been through it's often wondrous (in my opinion) that I am as healthy as I am. My emotional scars do not show (too) prominently.
Though grief and sadness still are with me each and every day I do feel something lighter growing within me. I cannot yet clearly foresee the end of my current therapeutic process. But I also cannot very clearly see the beginning that took place some nine months ago. I am well on my way on this healing journey. Some say healing is a lifelong process. Perhaps this is true. And I suppose I can accept that. I simply want to get through the densest part of my suffering and grief. As spring tentatively appears here in Minnesota I feel myself coming back to life more and more. I want to believe the best years of my life are ahead of me. I believe I can make it be so.
...
My visit to my primary care doctor went well. There were no major issues for me to discuss. My next appointment with him is in late June on the one year anniversary...or when all hell broke loose.
Here is something I am noticing. Each day the world is growing a bit brighter as the days continue to lengthen. And as the days lengthen I am reminded again and again of the gift of my renewed and clarified eyesight. I imagine it will be a fascinating world by the time of the Summer Solstice in June!
In May I will be taking a break from this blog. And yet you will still see entries appear each day. I will post the journal entries I made during my trip to Germany in May, 2013. I will resume writing on June 1st.
Five things I am grateful for today:
Sunlight
My immune system
My desire to write
The friends I have who have remained loyal
My health insurance
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