Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Full of Grace


1. That the woman who took the picture in my last post, and the woman standing beside me in that picture (cropped out) are still standing beside me today.  Friends.  If you've found a good one - don't let 'em go.

2.  Taking a leisurely evening bike ride through the neighborhood and smelling all the barbecue.

3.  Being barefoot almost all the time.  Even at work when I can get away with it.

4.  Sitting of the front porch glider with Martha, enjoying a hot fudge sundae, and lazily watching the world go by.

5.  And best of all this week - My former secretary called and invited me to go horseback riding.  The last time I rode a horse was over 20 years ago when she was still my secretary.   After about 20 minutes I discovered that riding a horse is much like riding a bike - you don't forget.  And then spent a glorious hour galloping at full speed across meadows.  Oh what a feeling!   Pure freedom and joy and exhilaration!   I don't think I'd ever want to own a horse, but I definitely need to wrangle an invite to ride more often  (once my nether regions recover : )

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Victory


This is me.  The picture was taken maybe 4 or 6 weeks after the assault, in front of a new house my friend rented so I would have a place to live.    She found the picture a few years ago while cleaning out her attic and gave it to me.  At the time, I could barely look at it.  The triggering was instant and hard.   Now, after years of therapy,  I can look at myself and remember and be okay.  This is how I know I am also healing emotionally.



My foot was broken in numerous places when a man slammed his foot down on it to hold me down. I remember the sound it made as it shattered.  And the searing pain.

I had three broken ribs on my left side, a damaged kidney and a ruptured spleen.

I had been kicked in the jaw that dislodged two teeth.  They had stuffed a shirt in my mouth to muffle my screams and I began to choke and gag on the teeth and blood.   I now clearly remember that frenzied panic of choking to death.  

I continue to wrestle with the rest.  Although I remember it, I still cannot talk about it.

But I'm working on it.


I survived the physical punishment although some the effects remain with me -

My left foot is now filled with arthritis filling in all where all the bones broke.  It is very stiff and bothers me a lot in the morning but is not unmanageable.

To this day I am still protective of my left side.  I still flinch if someone approaches me from the left and I instinctively position myself to protect myself.  I also lost some hearing in my left ear so I tend to tilt my head when someone is speaking to hear from my right.

And I have a wicked gag reflex.  I cannot swallow pills.  The taste of blood in my mouth can send me to a fetal position for days, although I am a much better about that now.  Trips to the dentist are still a little rough.

Still, I consider myself physically healed.  Emotional healing is taking a bit longer.  But just as physically healing did not erase all the permanent effects and scars and need for physical protection,   I now realize that emotional healing will not eliminate all the soul wounds and scars and my need for emotional boundaries.    And I am okay with that.

My therapist often told me that once I was able to talk about it, it would be a sign true healing.  

So today, here I am.  Talking about it.  And that is my victory.

Today I can look at this picture, calmly and with love.  And that is my victory.

Today I can share love and joy and intimacy.

Today I can climb mountains - both emotionally and physically.   And that is my victory.

They win some battles but they will not win the war.




Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Full of Grace

1. A good oncology report.

2.  Finding new erogenous zones.

3.  Spending Saturday at the lake replacing the decrepit kitchen floor.  It feels so good to have the energy to work again.


4.  Sunday and the temperature finally warmed up.  Loaded the Beach Boys on the iPod, stripped, and laid outside to soak up the rays.   Ahhhhhhh. . . there's nothing better than the feel of the sun on my skin.

5.  Planning the next trip to the mountains - which is almost as much fun as the trip itself.

6. And for e, a picture of my bike.  I also have a Diamond Back road bike that I used for long rides, but I think 50+ mile treks are now behind me.  This bike usually has a milk crate strapped on the back for grocery store runs and other errands.  (And I am thinking about that little bike motor you had mentioned : )


Friday, April 26, 2013

Survivor?


Survivor.  It is a word I have heard a lot of lately.   A psychic telling me I am a survivor.  And not only that, but that I should teach others how to be survivors.  I just received an invitation to a luncheon for breast cancer survivors.  And the reporting of the Boston bombings and other recent horrific events  - how many dead, how many survivors.

Each time I hear it, I think about that word. Survivor.

The dictionary defines to survive as:

1. to remain alive or in existence, live on
2. to continue to function or prosper

I wonder.

I think about those runners and how much dedication and passion it must take to be eligible to run the Boston marathon.   And then, in a split second, they lost their legs.  Yes, they will survive.  Their bodies will live on.  Some will fade into depression but many will probably get prosthetics and work tortuously hard to be able to run again, such is their passion.  Yet something very important has died.   This I know.

National Coalition for Cancer Survivorship pioneered the definition of survivor as being any person diagnosed with cancer, from the time of initial diagnosis until his or her death. Among health professionals, views differ as to when a person with cancer becomes a survivor. Many consider a person to be a survivor from the moment of diagnosis; in recent years, this view has become increasingly prevalent. Some, however, think that a person with a cancer diagnosis cannot be considered a survivor until he or she completes initial treatment. Others believe a person with cancer can be considered a survivor if he or she lives 5 years beyond diagnosis. Still others believe survivorship begins at some other point after diagnosis or treatment.  A considerable number of people with a cancer history maintain that they will have survived cancer if they die from another cause.*

Recent feminist culture has shifted labeling people who have experienced rape from rape victim to rape survivor.  The definition and meaning of survivor seems to carry more empowerment then the word victim.   Yet I don’t personally know one person who has experienced rape who would define themselves as a survivor.   Or empowered.   Too much of the soul has died.

The word survivor seems to emphasize merely being alive after diagnosis/trauma.  Is that enough?  To merely be alive?   What about the quality of life?  There is a big difference between surviving and thriving.  This I know too.

I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000.  After five years I did consider myself a survivor. Physically I felt great and had no limitations.   But then the cancer returned and brought me back to reality.  I am now a year out from my last diagnosis.   Most of me survived, but my breasts did not.   There have also been many physical and emotional issues that I have not overcome.   Survivor?  I guess time will tell.  Thriver?  I’m working on it.

I would agree that my body survived the violence that occurred around my rape.   That was a very painful struggle and I have recuperated from my physical injuries for the most part.   I survived it.  Daphne did not.  Decades later it is still a struggle for me.

I do not consider myself a rape survivor.  Yes, I have moved on.  I have made a very nice life for myself and have been able to enjoy an intimate relationship.  I function relatively well in most situations.    But I know what I have lost.   So much of the person I was did not survive and is gone to me forever.   I mourn that. Even after years of therapy, I sometimes don’t recognize myself in the mirror.  I do not feel safe anywhere other than my own home and often decline other opportunities.  I continue to put too much energy into avoiding things that are triggers thereby allowing my world to be smaller.    I have lost relationships I care about because of my boundary/safety/trust issues.  Each time I experience a new death.   And in each instance I see where I lose and the rapists win.  And it brings a new guilt and shame to me.   Wash, rinse, repeat.

So, I come back to this idea of teaching people how to survive.   I like the idea of it, I really do.  But can I really teach someone how to be a survivor when I don't even consider myself a survivor?   I don’t know. Some basic survival skills maybe.  I could certainly share some strategies I've learned to deal with anxiety and fear.   I have come a long way on that journey, although there will always be more to conquer.

More accurately, I think, can I help someone to live as well as possible, despite the limitations and disability and loss?   Maybe.  A little.  I am still learning myself.  Everyday.  I can certainly share those things that have gotten me through difficult times.  I can talk about those things that connect me with powers greater than myself.   How I try to feed my wounded soul daily.  How I try to keep myself pointed in the direction I want to be going.  How I will always be hopeful that love wins.

Still, learning to live after trauma is a very personal journey, I think.  What connects with me, will not connect with others.   And so I think the best I can do is to share my stories and listen to other folks stories.   Here and in other support groups.   And hopefully, we will all learn to thrive -  from each other, and because of each other - despite our losses.  



*.  SOURCE: President’s Cancer Panel (2004b).


Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Full of Grace

1.  My bike, back from the shop, all tuned up and ready to roll.

2.  Watching Beanie dance at a charity dance recital and still being able to envision her as a 3 year old when she first began lessons.

3.  Being on a college campus for 4/20.  Oh to be young . . .

4.  Daffodils.  Finally!  This has been a long winter here in the northeast (nighttime temps are still below freezing.)  The daffodils are the first flowers in my garden to bloom and mark the beginning of always having fresh cut flowers in the house. 



5.  A live cam of a red tailed hawk nest where there are fledgings currently hatching.   This site has been mildly distracting me for weeks but the babies now have me permanently hooked.  If you catch it while they are feeding, kiss any productivity goodbye.




Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Psychic

First, I have to say that I am cynical of psychics, astrology, etc. I do think that some people are more in tune to metaphysical phenomena than others, much like I am more in tune to nature than others. But do I really think that people can see the future? No, not really. Yet I can’t totally rule it out either. Mostly I think that some people can be very perceptive and notice visual clues, and can make high probability guesses based on those clues. So it was with that mostly non-believing, but very curious, attitude that I sought out a psychic.

My first step was to consult with Em who is very knowledgeable of the world of astrology and such. She gave me a name, and a description and a location where psychics hang out in New Orleans. When I got to the place, there were five psychics set up with their tables but no one matched Em’s description. But I figured this was my one chance, so while Martha went into yet another museum, I sat and watched these five people trying to discern whom to try.

I quickly ruled out three of the people just on general negative vibes. But there was one woman who looked very friendly and one man, dressed entirely in black, who looked like he rode with Hell’s Angels - but the kind of guy who would stop and wait for a family of ducklings to cross the road. Both of them had customers and so I sat in the park for a while and just watched how they interacted.

I finally decided on the man, which surprised even me, and approached him when his table was free. I first asked how much it would cost and he asked me to sit down. There were three chairs around the round table and I sat with one empty chair between us. He immediately asked me to move next to him which I did. Then he made eye contact for longer than I felt comfortable with and said,

“You are a survivor”

“well, that’s kind of obvious” I thought as my mind immediately envisioned my very flat chest.

but before I could even finish that thought, he said “No, not just the breast cancer. You are a survivor. You have experienced true hell and come back.”

I didn’t say anything but I started thinking about how many times people have told me that they see sadness in my eyes.  Was he just guessing or is it that obvious???

He asked me to put my hands on the table, looked at them, covered them with his and continued,

“You are a survivor and you have done it alone.”

I started to protest that I’ve always had a lot of support in my life but he interrupted me -

“I don’t mean you didn’t have support. But what you have gone through - you did it alone.  And you are still alone with it.  You will always be alone with it.”

Hmmmmm.   He might have said more but I was still thinking about the alone thing and not listening.

Then he switched gears and said “you are married”

and I thought no shit Sherlock, I do wear a commitment ring, but you are wrong since I am not married.

But before I finished that thought he questioned, “but not a traditional marriage?”

Good guess?

I did volunteer that my partner was a woman and we chatted a little about the ridiculousness of each state having their own rules about it. Then he said,

“She is your protector, the strength of the relationship. You are her warmth.  She is the yang to your yin. You will be together until the end.”

I was good with that. 

Then he asked me if I was Catholic and I said no.  Shouldn't he know that?  He choose a deck of tarot cards and asked me to shuffle them.  Are there different decks for different religions?  Of course, all my cynicism returned thinking “my whole life is determined by a shuffle of a deck?”

I don’t know the name of the card he first turned up but he said that I was a lover of animals. True. He said that I like animals a lot better than I like people. True a lot of the time. That I could be the woman with 57 rescue animals.  So very true.  Then he went off about some story about the rats in New Orleans that eat cement.

My next card was the fool. Great.

He said, “someone has just played you for a fool, or you felt like a fool.” Which was weird because I did just say that to someone - that I felt foolish for believing  and trusting them.  But then he went on saying that the fool represents a journey I am about to take without knowing what the dangers are, which he said as more of a question.  But I didn't say anything so he continued.

He turned over the last card but I don’t remember what it was. I was still thinking about what journey I was about to take, what danger is ahead . . . maybe I shouldn’t have stopped the chemo . . . I wasn’t flying straight home, but taking a side trip through a very conservative state . . . My mind just ping ponging to several possibilities . . .

Then he asked me what I do for a living and I said I was a city planner.

He shook his head as if gravely disappointed.

“What???   I said. I love my job.”

He said “that is coming to an end. You have a much higher calling. You need to be a teacher.”

WTF?   I laughed and said “I am no teacher.” I quickly had flashbacks to trying to teach my children to play piano. Disaster. Or trying to help them with their math homework. Fiasco. Even when I was asked to teach a college class, I only did it as a team. Someone else did all the lecturing.  I sat there shaking my head, adamant, “No, I am too much an introvert. I have no patience for it. I could never be a teacher.”

He sat there patiently, like a parent waiting on a petulant child and again said “you need to teach others how to be survivors.”

Shit.

Really?

Damn.

And he just sat there smiling at me like the Cheshire Cat.  Like he knew he had hit the right chord.

Our time was up and I thanked and paid the man. Then, as I was about to walk away he said with a huge smile,

“By the way, you have a very long lifeline.”

I nodded my thanks and walked away, smiling and laughing to myself.


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Full of Grace

1.  Awarding the second annual Daphne college scholarship award (now substantially funded by her mother)

While this is a great joy for me, it is also bittersweet when faced with how many truly promising students there are and the only thing holding them back is money.  There has got to be a better way.

2.  That Beanie drove over 4 hours to visit her sister on National Sibling's Day.   They are best friends and I do hope that they will always remain this close.

3.  That Beanie has reported that Peachie's new boyfriend is "so friggin' nice." 

4.  The clear head and great night's sleep that comes after a day of  hard, productive, physical labor.

5.  That all runners and spectators and residents we knew in Boston reported back safe, although understandably quite shaken.   Heartfelt prayers for those who were impacted.