When the Survivor Needs Help to Survive

Everyone knows me as a survivor and relies on me for guidance. It's a role I selected naturally and honestly after a two-pronged, near-fatal battle with cancer and Lupus in the late 1990s followed by post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and continuing chronic illness. Add early childhood maltreatment as evidenced by the National Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 20-year Adverse Childhood Effects Study that links childhood trauma to long-term health and social consequences and it's a miracle I stand upright.

So it's no surprise that this survivor needs help to survive now and then; particularly after her beloved brother commits suicide six months prior and sends her into a tailspin. I know all the right things to do but mind over matter is easier than it sounds, even for a 'survivor' like me who inspires others to keep on keeping on. In fact, a friend recently told me I need to read my own book; but I simply think I need to add a Survivor's Survival Kit to the second edition.

Perhaps I can fashion such a kit out of the the essentials the United States Government says we need in case of an emergency:

WATER: Yup. Stay hydrated to replace all the tears. One gallon of water  per day for every day I cry for more than one hour.
FOOD: Proteins are best to keep up my strength and colorful fruits make me smile but carbohydrates, especially cake and cookies, are permitted. They make me feel better, even if only for a short while. All should be non-perishable in case I don't get out of bed.
BATTERY-POWERED OR HAND CRANK RADIO: Ha, ha, ha! Nope. I'll take my chances with my laptop so I can see how all the happy, pretty people are living their care-free lives. I will also get briefly elevated or further saddened by all the sentimental viral posts I must see or watch plus the funny ones that do make me crack a smile here and there.
FLASHLIGHT AND EXTRA BATTERIES: Okay. I'll have that, too, for when I can't sleep and I need to read under the covers.
FIRST AID KIT: Ideally, mine will be filled with a Peach Bellini, a card from a friend, an amethyst crystal that belonged to my brother, and all my medications so I don't have to worry about refills EVER.
WHISTLE TO SIGNAL FOR HELP: My dog knows my whistle and curls up next to me when I am sad or suffering.
DUST MASK: This will help keep visitors away. They will think I have a disease.
DUCT TAPE: This is used to cover the mouths of all those asking for my advice. I'm sorry I can't help you right now. SHUT UP!
MOIST TOWELETTES: The closest I get to a shower some days.
WRENCH OR PLIERS: To throw at things when I'm angry.
MANUAL CAN OPENER: Also good for throwing.
LOCAL MAPS: I'm not going anywhere so I don't think I need these in my survival kit. If I did go somewhere, it would be a place as yet unknown to me or others.
CELL PHONE WITH SOLAR CHARGER: Do they really make those things? And if everyone is in survival mode, will we all have them? I doubt it so who would I be calling? In my opinion, also good for throwing.
OTHER: This is a random category I have added. It holds many boxes of tissues, cream for my sore nose, English breakfast tea, a personal chef, Bananagrams, stupid television, books, and, most importantly, the will to live. 

That's my kit! What do you think? Have any things you can add? Right now, though, I'm going to watch Let's Make A Deal. Comedian Wayne Brady as the host can always brighten my day.

Fear

We all know fear in one form or another. Described 'dictionarily' it is: A distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. So what.

I think I've held life-long fear in my very bones. My near-death experiences from cancer and my daily struggles with Lupus and fibromyalgia and gastroparesis also keep me in a suspended state of never knowing what shoe will drop. In my case, I hope it's a red stilletto in homage and honor of my dear, departed friend and colleague Susan Murphy Milano, a tireless advocate for those abused by partners or spouses and the author of several books including her memoir, Holding My Hand Through Hell.

Fear has its hold on me through anxiety and terror, remnants of full-blown attacks of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) resulting from the emergency tracheotomy and the many, many horrific events of my cancer and ongoing tests, surgeries and treatment that continue to this day. Couple that with depression and I'm lucky I make it out of the house some days.

"Make a great day," I used to chirp to my sons as they would leave for elementary or middle school until they told me to shut my trap. I secretly hope they will repeat that to their own offspring one day. If they don't, I'll tell their wives to do it, if I get the chance.

Today, however, I'm really scared. I have loved ones who are facing medical tests and challenges that make me want to run away like my hair is on fire! I can't help but be empathetic yet also terrified. And the PTSD comes roaring back, in nightmares, massive anxiety, tension headaches and an ever-present cloud of uncertainty that rocks my world. I know this is 'fight or flight' syndrome. I may know it but - still - my conscious self can't correct my unconscious thoughts, feelings, and flat out fear.

For the past few days, I've been pissed off at everyone and letting them know. I had to literally check myself at the door last night to make sure I didn't do it again to my own nuclear family. It's not fun to live in fear although I feel as if I've been doing it all my life. I should be used to it, no? Does our crummy childhood or past experiences ever leave us alone?

Never. My upcoming memoir and website will clearly define how adverse childhood experiences do affect adult physical and mental health.

So I'll try my bag of soothing tricks including deep breathing, soft music, comfort foods - the usual. Again, I know what to do but it never gets easier. The 'bricks' are back - those knotted muscles in my shoulders that always seem to be in the up position. Yeah, yeah, there's meditation and yoga, too. Or simple walks with my dog. I know! Stop telling me what to do! I'll figure it out on my own, in my own time, in my own ways.

In the meantime, if you're struggling with fear, please know that you are not alone and many, many others are treading water, too. Cheers!

The Black Hole

No matter how many years have passed, this time of year reminds me of my battle with "The Big C" and how I nearly died without an emergency tracheotomy and brutal chemotherapy. After my surgical biopsy revealed I had Stage IV Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a tumor lodged between my heart and lung and the ensuing days when, coupled with new-found Lupus, I descended into a hell unknown to me. Three years and many treatments and several near death experiences later, I emerged - new and naked. I had to recreate me.

But an amazing thing also happened when I ascended to Heaven for some moments, saw the light, and was able to look down on my own body on its gurney, the rushing doctors and nurses and my terrified husband. Briefly returning to my lifeless body, I told him to say goodbye to my sons and that I loved him. And then off I went to a peaceful, beautiful place until I woke in a trauma unit at another hospital with eyes swollen shut. Of course, when I was able to speak weeks later, I swore it never happened.

Then how would I have recognized the two nurses who tended to me? How did I 'see' my husband throw his trembling body over mine, screaming: "No, no! Amy! My soul mate!" Later, when I could read about such experiences, I learned I had entered a new club, if you will - those who are fortunate enough to visit Heaven and return. I haven't been afraid to die since.

The tears flow freely right now, not only from my memories but also from the tragic events unfolding all around us in this life; the grief, the misery, the sheer torture of it all for so many. And I felt it important that I write this down, perhaps selfishly because I still suffer from bouts of post traumatic stress disorder and to share one of my favorite quotes:

 “I have never met a person whose greatest need was anything other than real, unconditional love. You can find it in a simple act of kindness toward someone who needs help. There is no mistaking love. You feel it in your heart. It is the common fiber of life, the flame that heats our soul, energizes our spirit and supplies passion to our lives.

It is our connection to God and to each other."

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

On Death and Dying

Let's stay connected, even if just through social media or email.

Let's remember those we miss so terribly. 

Let's wrap the holiday season around us in increments that we can manage, however big or small.

Let's feel our hearts heal and beat with love. 

I'm trying, God, I'm trying. 

Photo taken at Brookgreen Gardens, Murrells Inlet, S.C.

Slaughter, Silence and Santa

When writers are unsettled with their emotions, we write. Of course, I am distraught over the loss of 20 precious children and six adults plus the mother of a very disturbed young man in Newtown, Connecticut, as all of you are and the terrible truths we will face in the aftermath of this unprecedented slaughter.

In coming weeks, many will display signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, something I am all too familiar with. Grief coupled with PTSD is not pretty. It reaches into the very deepest hole in your soul and leaves a gaping wound that can take months or years to heal. For some, it may never heal and they will be triggered by sights, scents, and memories all their lives. This may causer rapid breathing, tears, nausea and even phobias. I pray that each and every one affected personally by this tragedy avail themselves of the help offered, including the first responders and other emergency personnel.

According to news reports, the children and adults of quaint Newtown are going to be players in the unveiling of their annual live nativity display this evening. Somehow, they are not letting the ultimate Grinch steal their Christmas. They will also undoubtedly be attending vigils and prayer sessions for those lost and holding tight to friends and family for comfort.

Today, my twenty-something son bounded into New York City in full Santa dress to participate in SantaCon, an annual pseudo fundraising event/parade/bar crawl that is reported to draw over 20,000 participants dressed in costume. They bring with them two non-perishable items or monetary donations. Last year the event raised over $10,000 for the needy according to SantaCon/NY and there are SantaCons taking place today in 37 countries. Those taking part and, perhaps, making merry are no less touched by the awful news from Newtown and, I'm sure, will catch up with more details later this evening.

Still reeling in the New York tri-state area from Hurricane Sandy, we can only call upon hope and in the silent times, wish for healing, comfort and peace. Perhaps 20,000 Santas will make a difference to someone today. It will certainly be an exciting spectacle for the children of Manhattan but also, I envision, a circle of Santa safety for a time for those children - those precious children - and, maybe, for all our babies everywhere.

Rest in peace my Newtown neighbors.