Humble Pie

A day in my head... Alarm goes off, roll out of bed, hot shower. I convince myself that it will be a good day, that I am strong, ready to take on the challenges of the day. I put my scrub pants on. vivid reminders of how I had these same type of scrub pants on the day that I had given up. The day that I was admitted to the behavioral hospital. The day I had hurt myself. The day I had to remove my scrub pants because they had a tie string at the waist and that was a danger to my safety. The day I was brought to the locked unit and I had to wear green paper scrubs because I was a mental patient. I was so weak, I am so weak. I need to be strong. I am strong. Am I really doing better? Yes I'm doing better. Oh God, that experience at the mental hospital was a traumatic experience. Jesus. Focus Stacie, its a work day. I need to get ready for work. I look around me. I'm blessed. Truly blessed. How can I feel sad or depressed. I have all of the luxuries in the world. Get a grip, ...

I've had to stop to inhale and exhale more this week than normal. My breathe has been caught a few times, leaving me feeling a bit short of breath. It's the same ol' same ol'... SHAME! I've read and I'm already re-reading a book entitled, "Unashamed" by Christine Caine. Although our stories aren't exactly the same, there are an amazing amount of similarities between myself and the author. I feel like she took my thoughts and feelings and wrote them out in her book. Her book is so relatable yet so hard to read. It's her story of Victory over her shame yet I am still wading deep in the depths of mine. Yes, I've made progress! Every small victory is worth celebrating. For me, shame is still quick sand, chains, prison walls, and limitations. Inhale, exhale. The book states that "facing shame is a matter of COURAGE and CHOICE". I've been attending group therapy for approx. 7 months now. I have shared some personal ...

I've debated for several days whether or not to post the contents of this post. I've gone back and forth from thinking heck no to why not (somebody needs to read it).  A couple of weeks ago I received something very ordinary. This ordinary thing sent me in to a tailspin of emotions, causing my thought processes to change and brew into mostly bitterness and anger. A TRIGGER! For people with trauma, triggers can come in the form of a smell, a song, a certain touch, a place, a face, an object, a word or phrase and they can sneak up on you like a thief in the night. They are unexpected, unwanted, and usually cause some level of grief and disruption in daily life. I retreated to my bed, hours and hours went by, I slept for days, didn't eat or drink, didn't work, didn't cook, didn't do housework and absolutely didn't want to see or speak to anyone. This went on for days. Showering was a chore and makeup or jewelry was not even a thought or desire.  The shame...

Highs and lows, ups and downs, good moods and bad moods, uncertainty and peace, talkative and withdrawn, good dreams and bad dreams, faith reminders and abuse triggers, patience and impatience, trusting and not trusting, communicating and not communicating, true smiles to fake smiles, being truly present to pretending, believing and not believing, seeing an end to no end in sight. It's tiring. Everything listed above relates to some aspect of life. All people struggle with something. I struggle with sexual abuse.  I'm sitting here typing this in my comfortable house with my fur-babies nearby. I look outside at a beautiful yard just the way my husband and I want it to be. There are cows grazing and family estates surrounding me. Life is a pretty picture and I should be content but I'm fully aware that the devil is controlling me and winning right now. He attacks the vulnerable and broken. I've pretended that I'm not "broken" for a long time now. But ...

                            Have you ever been diagnosed with something, was prescribed medicine for it, and eventually felt better due to the medicine? Due to feeling good, you think that maybe you don't need the medicine anymore so you stop taking it...all the while thinking that your strength and willpower will carry you through? Yeah, me too.  I got so frustrated with having to take medicine for my depression that I decided to just stop taking it. I knew good and well, as a nurse, that this was a bad idea.  I did it anyway. I didn't want my life defined as "requiring medicine to be happy" or relying on a drug to function to my full potential. It sucks.  I quit cold turkey a while back for about a month or so. This was a really bad idea. Deep sadness set in again. Feelings of despair ruled my day. Sleep was my escape. I teeter on requiring the meds for stability vs. deeply wanting to beat...

Seems like everyday, more and more cases of sexual abuse are coming to the surface. Victims are stepping out of their comfort zone for the sake of their mental status, reaching a feeling of necessity to surrender their secrets. I've read that the average age of a victim to come forth independently is in and around their 40-50's. I have also seen increased publicity on offenders of sexual crimes with children. It's so sick. As a victim, every news story of these crimes hurts. I feel sadness for the victim. I know what they are, and will, be facing and I know the repercussions of abuse.  I saw my therapist today. It's still so challenging for me. Sitting a few feet away from her while talking about sexual acts that took place when I was a young girl steals contentment, joy, and throws me out of whack. It's a catch 22 - not talking about it leads to pain and talking about it also leads to heartache. This is followed by getting in your car, driving home to your...

My emotions... ~ A contraction pattern in labor ~ A sea affected by high winds ~ A overview of hills and valleys I've said it before and I'll say it again. It's exhausting. It's overwhelming, it's unpredictable, and it's difficult. My emotions are all over the place.  It makes sense to me though. I'm continuing one on one therapy weekly and group therapy every Tuesday night. Last week I walked in for my session and I told my therapist that I wanted to tell her the details of my worst abusive experience. I had prayed about it, decided to focus on that for the hour and had geared up most of the day for it. When the time came, I could not speak of it. I sat on the couch frozen.  I became locked up emotionally, unable to form the words from my mouth and eventually became very disgusted with myself. This process is vicious. In that moment, and many other moments, I became the child victim on the couch with the inability to process what was going on, mu...