Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


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Running Amok

First, before I start my blog, please notice the “badge” on the side of your screen. I didn’t even realize it was a thing, but I made #62 out of the top 75 blogs on the web that focus on healing of some sort. I am honored to be a part of this! Thanks to my small but devoted readers who are making me visible out there.
Scott, my therapist, talks about “the perfect storm” that I seem to find myself in often. You know the kind. Your boyfriend breaks up with you the same week that your kid has a birthday, your dad has surgery, and you have two funerals to attend after just attending one last week. The thing is, I am actually kind of a pro at this kind of thing. I have perfect storms somewhat regularly in my life. I get stressed, have my intense reactions, but always power through. So what the heck happened?
The only thing that makes sense to me is this. I have heard for years now about how strong I am. “One of the strongest women I know” is something I hear often. I know I am strong. I know I’ve managed several perfect storms in my life and handled them pretty well. I’ve been to hell and back a few times. “You’ve been through so much” is another thing I hear often. Why the breakdown now?
If I could talk to Jay one more time, if someone I knew could run into him, what I would communicate is this. You did it, Jay. Something we didn’t think was possible. You broke her. One of the strongest women around.
Yep, that’s how I feel. Fair or not, my relationship with Jay broke me. Granted, I’ve been chipped away at for years. Every break-up, every jerk, the years of taking care of Dad, the years of being a single parent, being a business owner… I’ve been slowly chipped away at.

What was left of me was crushed.

When I went in for my emergency session with Scott, he told me about a book he had been reading. It studied a tribe/culture where when people reached their threshold, they would take off all their clothes and really let it rip. They would cry, scream, yell, and run around naked for as long as they needed. They called it “running amok.” Then guess what happened? They were done. They would be fine.

When I “lost it,” both Scott and I knew what happens in our culture when you run amok. You get hospitalized. And we both know what happens then. They sedate you. That’s about it. While a rest would be welcome, not much else good comes from it. Then it is on your record and God knows what ramifications that could have. When I reached my breaking point, I knew that I had to find a way to help myself without going to the hospital. Crazy without going to the loony bin. My goal.

For me, I needed rest but that never means being alone. Alone is the last thing I need when I hit bottom. Not that I’ve ever hit bottom like this before. This is unlike anything I’ve been through. Like I said, I was broken.

My peeps started a babysitting schedule for me. I didn’t know what else to call it. I just needed someone to be with me, come whatever mood swing would happen. I have a ton of amazing friends and family, but it was still extremely difficult to pull that off because everyone has very busy and difficult lives of their own.

I’m sure I will write about this in weeks to come as I’ve by no means fully recovered. I will just tell you about the worst of it. That was day two of running amok. I had just answered a brief phone call from a supportive friend while lying on a chair. The next thing I knew, I couldn’t breathe. I knew it I was hyperventilating but I couldn’t stop it. My friend had experience with this from a family member so thankfully she knew what to do. Not sure I would have know how to handle it. She sat me up and then literally sat under me to give me physical support. I was worse than a wet noodle. I had no strength and my body was completely limp. At times I would stop breathing. At first, she just kept encouraging me to breath in a soothing voice. It was scary as hell. I would gasp for air and then found some muscle movement because I gripped her arms that were around me fiercely. I was so frightened.

Eventually, she led me through some beach imagery which got my breathing regulated. Then the sobbing started. I sobbed from the bottom corners of my very being. It was like wailing. I couldn’t stop. She mentioned in her soothing voice that I would get through this. That set up the vocalization of what was gripping my heart. I don’t want to get through this. I don’t want to survive. I don’t want to exist. I am tired of being at this place in my life. Not being loved by another. Not having anyone to give my love to. Suicide is not an option but I just wanted to be dead. Please God, have some mercy. I was horrified at what I heard myself saying but I couldn’t stop it.

She mentioned all the people who love me. All the people who need me. All the people who have a better life because I am in it. That started the anger pouring out. I know I help people. Who the fuck is going to help me? When is it my turn? Nope, don’t want to live like this any longer. Tired of trying to fix it. I’m broken. Just shattered.

Eventually, it all stopped. Then I was just exhausted beyond belief. Between the hyperventilating, the sun, and not taking my medication, I couldn’t walk well. I was very dizzy and off-balance. But we came up with the brilliant idea of settling me in my office. It was apart from the house which was my greatest concern. I didn’t ever want Frankie to witness any of that. Not one second of it. He doesn’t need that. My office became a place to escape to, and still is. Things have not gotten as bad as that one day, but it is a very slow climb back to a functioning life.

I’m not used to that. The way I’m wired, I feel things very intensely. It’s magnified and painful. But the upside, is that I’m done with it quickly. Break up with me on Monday, I’m back on Match by Wednesday. Not this time. Just not bouncing back this time.

The most maddening part of it, is that even though I’m furious at Jay for the way he played with a heart that has been through so much suffering, I still think about seeing him again, talking to him again, wanting to re-connect the deep way that we did. I want him to know how badly he hurt me because I know he has no concept whatsoever. But then I want him to fix it. Not feel bad, but come home to me. Whatever that might look like to start again, but let’s figure it out. Just give us a try.

I promise, love is worth it.


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Don’t Just Do Something… Sit There!

I went to see Bill (my spiritual director) today. We were discussing the lifting of my depression, but the trade-off being more angst-filled. Stuff like, what the heck is this all for anyway? Keeping it together so that you can keep it together for another day so you can keep it together for another day kind of thing. We talked about how I have never avoided pain in my life, always dealt with it head-on. Without realizing it, I think I assumed there would be some sort of pay-off eventually. So far, it’s just been another helping of tough stuff to deal with. At 48, I’m ready to move on to something new.

Anyhow, we didn’t solve the problems of the world, but we decided to start doing some meditation/prayer type stuff in session. I don’t do so well with it on my own, so if we do it together, I can probably practice it more easily at home. It was simple, interesting stuff, so I thought I would pass it along to you. Each of them were only one to two minutes long.

Exercise One:
Just sit there. Sit there quietly and just see what happens. Not for a long period, but just see what happens. I close my eyes when I do these kinds of things because it’s just easier for me. So I sat there and I was surprised that I was actually blank for a few minutes before the train left the station. Then it was, “Oh, I have to blog today. Maybe I should blog about sitting here.” And then my mind just goes from there.

Exercise Two:
Similar to the first exercise, you sit quietly but this time you actually count how many thoughts you have. I had six. I thought that was a lot, but Bill had six too. I don’t remember all of his, but his were:
1- Here. I’m just here.
2- Darcy. She’s here too.
6- Here. Here I am.

Mine were:
1- Nothing to start.
2- Have to call my friend as soon as I leave to confirm plans.
3- It’s blog day and I don’t know what to blog about.
4- I’m really hungry.
5- I wonder if that new guy I’ve been texting will contact me or not.
6- Nothing again. Can I count that twice?

Exercise Three:
Counting breaths. I had eight. Bill had three.

Does it all sound kinda goofy and pointless to you? It sounds funny to me as I write it. But when I was there, it was really cool. The object is to diminish your numbers. The goal is to be able to sit with blankness. For cripe’s sake, it was only a minute but it seemed like forever. The goal is to get your thoughts down to one or zero and be able to be empty. And the goal is to get your breaths down to three or less. Bill says the practiced monks can get down to one. That’s crazy.

Anyhow, I’m actually gonna try this the next few days. I asked him if the goal was also to increase the time you do it and he kind of chuckled. Typical question from someone like me. He said the goal is for time to be meaningless.

He doesn’t know a whole lot about acupuncture, and neither do I for that matter. But I told him it’s interesting that the big goal of those treatments is to relax. She puts a thousand needles in my body, then turns the lights off and tells me to take a nap. The more nothing I feel, the better. Hmmm… do you ever have the universe send you consistent messages?

So another paradox. Finding meaning in my life apparently requires me to conquer being empty. And yet the ultimate goal is to feel less empty. Weird. Maybe I’m just a quack that is hanging out with a bunch of quacks. But I’m liking it.

If you attempt any of these exercises, please feel free to share your stories. I’m fascinated! Really folks, it’s safe to try it at home. Just sit and try to be empty.

Crazy.