August 09, 2010
Set-Back Subsiding? An Update
Thank you, sweet bloggy friends, for your support on my last post. Wow! That was a rough one. I was basically out of commission entirely for about three days, then another couple of days were needed to get back more completely to myself. It was the most dissociated I've been for quite a while. The good news is that I didn't run away or act out in any bizarre, alienating ways, freaking out family and friends around me. What I did instead is just hunker down and lay low for a while. I slept a lot and I attempted a lot of comforting. Today was the first day when it felt like the comforting was actually getting through.
It's ironic because I was just talking to my T about getting back to weekly therapy appointments so that we can work on the "Annual Fall Freak-out" issues. I was hoping--with a lot of work--that I'd get by relatively unscathed this year, starting when the kids go back to school. This dentist freak-out incident doesn't leave me feeling too confident about that anymore.
But, back to what happened at the dentist's office. The long and short of the matter is that this dentist started in on a procedure, but didn't warn me of what he was going to do. This was after getting up my nerve again to get into his office after about three years. We've been trying to figure out what was causing so much pain for me. I was feeling like a hypochondriac while we were trying to solve this dental mystery. I knew that I had cracks in my teeth (from clenching them) and I've been wearing a night guard for three years to help with that. But, I didn't know what was causing such extreme pain in this one location.
Well, come to find out, I have a deep crack in one of my teeth that goes completely across the entire tooth. We don't know for sure how deep it is. The dentist decided to fill this tooth, even though this particular tooth has never had a cavity. Instead of telling me this, he just goes in and starts causing pain in my gums.
I was like, "Uh, hello?! What is it exactly that you are doing right now?" He basically laughs off my question. He didn't throw is head back with a belly laugh, but he kinda scoffed and said something like, "Oh, that couldn't possibly have hurt much!" I wanted to slap the uncaring bastard across the face! He added, "I was just giving you a local anesthetic so that this shot of Novocain I'm about to give you won't hurt as much."
I said, "Listen! Not only do I have extreme dental fear and childhood trauma, I also have dental trauma. I have PTSD and a dissociative disorder. If you tell me what you are going to do before you do it, that will help a lot."
I should be proud of myself that I was assertive like that (although I was pissed that it became necessary for me to repeat my trauma story for like the millionth time with this thoughtless person who forgets and doesn't care, when I told my story and made my requirements abundantly clear before I ever allowed these people to touch me three years ago!) But, you know what? It was too late. The next thing I knew I was in a dissociative stupor. It was like I had fallen down a deep, black hole and I couldn't crawl back out.
It was a miracle I got myself back home. My son noticed how tranced out I was and asked, "Wow, Mom! What did they give you at the dentist's office? Some heavy drugs or something?" I said, "No. I'm just extremely dissociated." Then, I just crawled into bed and vegged out.
I want to tell this jerkoid dentist that he owes me at least three days of my damn life back!
I don't know what I'm going to do now. He says I need to put a crown over that cracked tooth or I could have an abscess or have to have a root canal...or I don't know what else he was rambling on about in a very put-fear-into-the-patient's-soul, very poor bedside manner sort of way. By then, I was already too far gone dissociatively speaking. I was basically a zombie by that time. All I really remember is repeating in my head over and over, "Just get the hell out of here and then you're never coming back!"
The real pisser about this whole situation is that this is the second dentist I've had trouble with in the last six years and both of them were specifically recommended to me by people in the field as dentists who had special training for trauma survivors and folks with extreme dental fear. I'd like to know how the sadistic jerks who don't have the appropriate training act and treat their patients! No. Never mind. I don't want to know.
It's ironic because I was just talking to my T about getting back to weekly therapy appointments so that we can work on the "Annual Fall Freak-out" issues. I was hoping--with a lot of work--that I'd get by relatively unscathed this year, starting when the kids go back to school. This dentist freak-out incident doesn't leave me feeling too confident about that anymore.
But, back to what happened at the dentist's office. The long and short of the matter is that this dentist started in on a procedure, but didn't warn me of what he was going to do. This was after getting up my nerve again to get into his office after about three years. We've been trying to figure out what was causing so much pain for me. I was feeling like a hypochondriac while we were trying to solve this dental mystery. I knew that I had cracks in my teeth (from clenching them) and I've been wearing a night guard for three years to help with that. But, I didn't know what was causing such extreme pain in this one location.
Well, come to find out, I have a deep crack in one of my teeth that goes completely across the entire tooth. We don't know for sure how deep it is. The dentist decided to fill this tooth, even though this particular tooth has never had a cavity. Instead of telling me this, he just goes in and starts causing pain in my gums.
I was like, "Uh, hello?! What is it exactly that you are doing right now?" He basically laughs off my question. He didn't throw is head back with a belly laugh, but he kinda scoffed and said something like, "Oh, that couldn't possibly have hurt much!" I wanted to slap the uncaring bastard across the face! He added, "I was just giving you a local anesthetic so that this shot of Novocain I'm about to give you won't hurt as much."
I said, "Listen! Not only do I have extreme dental fear and childhood trauma, I also have dental trauma. I have PTSD and a dissociative disorder. If you tell me what you are going to do before you do it, that will help a lot."
I should be proud of myself that I was assertive like that (although I was pissed that it became necessary for me to repeat my trauma story for like the millionth time with this thoughtless person who forgets and doesn't care, when I told my story and made my requirements abundantly clear before I ever allowed these people to touch me three years ago!) But, you know what? It was too late. The next thing I knew I was in a dissociative stupor. It was like I had fallen down a deep, black hole and I couldn't crawl back out.
It was a miracle I got myself back home. My son noticed how tranced out I was and asked, "Wow, Mom! What did they give you at the dentist's office? Some heavy drugs or something?" I said, "No. I'm just extremely dissociated." Then, I just crawled into bed and vegged out.
I want to tell this jerkoid dentist that he owes me at least three days of my damn life back!
I don't know what I'm going to do now. He says I need to put a crown over that cracked tooth or I could have an abscess or have to have a root canal...or I don't know what else he was rambling on about in a very put-fear-into-the-patient's-soul, very poor bedside manner sort of way. By then, I was already too far gone dissociatively speaking. I was basically a zombie by that time. All I really remember is repeating in my head over and over, "Just get the hell out of here and then you're never coming back!"
The real pisser about this whole situation is that this is the second dentist I've had trouble with in the last six years and both of them were specifically recommended to me by people in the field as dentists who had special training for trauma survivors and folks with extreme dental fear. I'd like to know how the sadistic jerks who don't have the appropriate training act and treat their patients! No. Never mind. I don't want to know.
Labels: aftermath, assertiveness, body connection, comfort, dental fear, dissociation, trance states, trust
March 18, 2009
Doormat No More!
I was watching a situation unfold across the street with a neighbor friend of mine. I found myself saying, under my breath, "That woman needs some boundaries!"
Boundaries. Limits. Self-respect. Assertiveness. Confidence. Self-Esteem. They all seem quite interrelated. I'm sure these are all concepts that anyone who has felt like they have "victim" stamped on their forehead has struggled with. I know I have.
I remember it like it was yesterday: "Work on your self-esteem!" was the battle cry at the after-care program I was attending after my first big stint in the psych ward of a hospital. I guess they figured that anyone who had been suicidal needed to work on their self-confidence.
This was before the retrieval of most of my childhood sexual abuse memories. This was before the onslaught of PTSD, with its flashbacks, nightmares and terrifying moments spent huddled against a firm, safe wall in the fetal position. This was way before I knew about parts, "splintering," and my severe dissociative disorder. I guess I just wasn't ready yet for an overhaul of my self-esteem.
But it's an important topic and survivor issue. I don't think I did much--not right away, anyway--with the books I shelved and the notes I took on the topic. But, I do think I took a lot of baby steps toward assertiveness over the years. Those baby steps have added up and I can now look back and see that I have gotten quite far!
Just the other day I had a run-in with some fellow dog owners who were allowing their two large-breed canines to trample and urinate all over my flower garden. They were belligerent, rude and all up in my face with a "it's no big deal, lady" attitude. On top of it all, these folks were construction workers who were at my neighbor's new house to install some hardwood floors. Were they being paid to be rude to their customer's neighbor? Hell, no!
I stood my ground, stayed safe and immediately called my neighbor who came right over and told them to get those dogs out of there and never bring them back. Yay, little ol' assertive me!
Was it as simple as I've just described? No. Are you kidding? I have a bunch of wounded, inner parts, remember? Man, did I get some little part action!
This scared me at first. It seemed so over the top for the situation I had just encountered. But, as many of us child abuse survivors know, it's not always about the now, it's about the past...especially the unresolved, traumatic past.
I lost control and ended up hiding in the dark, safe closet for a while. Sometimes I just give in to this. After a while, when nobody ends up coming to drag us out of there by the hair, I can convince all myselves that we're safe now. But, that wasn't the end of it. There were a lot of tears; terrified sobs, really. As much as it scared me, I looked in the mirror during this time. What I saw was a desperate, terrorized little girl. Yeah, that wounded little one got triggered alright.
I spent the rest of the day validating the tears, fears, terror and despair while trying not to get "flooded" by the dug-up emotions. I interspersed feeling these feelings with lots of comfort techniques. I did anything I could think of to just comfort and soothe that scared, wounded part of me.
This is one of the few times I can think of when I was assertive and felt the feelings in an appropriate way. I think this is progress. My therapist thought so, too. I guess I have come a long way. I think my doormat status has evolved into something much healthier. I wrote a poem about it.
Doormat No More
I have always
been a doormat.
But, the dirt
that's been scraped
on me
from the throng
of careless boots
seems to have contained
a few viable seeds.
My once barren mat
now sprouts
seedlings of assertiveness.
At first, only
tentative, tender shoots
barely poke through
the trampled earth.
Then, saplings of self-respect
reach for the sun:
boundaries, affirmations and
the ability to say "no."
I am growing
firm, bold
hybrids of strength
into a mighty grove
of confidence.
Copyright 2009, Marj McCabe ~ All rights reserved.
Boundaries. Limits. Self-respect. Assertiveness. Confidence. Self-Esteem. They all seem quite interrelated. I'm sure these are all concepts that anyone who has felt like they have "victim" stamped on their forehead has struggled with. I know I have.
I remember it like it was yesterday: "Work on your self-esteem!" was the battle cry at the after-care program I was attending after my first big stint in the psych ward of a hospital. I guess they figured that anyone who had been suicidal needed to work on their self-confidence.
This was before the retrieval of most of my childhood sexual abuse memories. This was before the onslaught of PTSD, with its flashbacks, nightmares and terrifying moments spent huddled against a firm, safe wall in the fetal position. This was way before I knew about parts, "splintering," and my severe dissociative disorder. I guess I just wasn't ready yet for an overhaul of my self-esteem.
But it's an important topic and survivor issue. I don't think I did much--not right away, anyway--with the books I shelved and the notes I took on the topic. But, I do think I took a lot of baby steps toward assertiveness over the years. Those baby steps have added up and I can now look back and see that I have gotten quite far!
Just the other day I had a run-in with some fellow dog owners who were allowing their two large-breed canines to trample and urinate all over my flower garden. They were belligerent, rude and all up in my face with a "it's no big deal, lady" attitude. On top of it all, these folks were construction workers who were at my neighbor's new house to install some hardwood floors. Were they being paid to be rude to their customer's neighbor? Hell, no!
I stood my ground, stayed safe and immediately called my neighbor who came right over and told them to get those dogs out of there and never bring them back. Yay, little ol' assertive me!
Was it as simple as I've just described? No. Are you kidding? I have a bunch of wounded, inner parts, remember? Man, did I get some little part action!
This scared me at first. It seemed so over the top for the situation I had just encountered. But, as many of us child abuse survivors know, it's not always about the now, it's about the past...especially the unresolved, traumatic past.
I lost control and ended up hiding in the dark, safe closet for a while. Sometimes I just give in to this. After a while, when nobody ends up coming to drag us out of there by the hair, I can convince all myselves that we're safe now. But, that wasn't the end of it. There were a lot of tears; terrified sobs, really. As much as it scared me, I looked in the mirror during this time. What I saw was a desperate, terrorized little girl. Yeah, that wounded little one got triggered alright.
I spent the rest of the day validating the tears, fears, terror and despair while trying not to get "flooded" by the dug-up emotions. I interspersed feeling these feelings with lots of comfort techniques. I did anything I could think of to just comfort and soothe that scared, wounded part of me.
This is one of the few times I can think of when I was assertive and felt the feelings in an appropriate way. I think this is progress. My therapist thought so, too. I guess I have come a long way. I think my doormat status has evolved into something much healthier. I wrote a poem about it.
Doormat No More
I have always
been a doormat.
But, the dirt
that's been scraped
on me
from the throng
of careless boots
seems to have contained
a few viable seeds.
My once barren mat
now sprouts
seedlings of assertiveness.
At first, only
tentative, tender shoots
barely poke through
the trampled earth.
Then, saplings of self-respect
reach for the sun:
boundaries, affirmations and
the ability to say "no."
I am growing
firm, bold
hybrids of strength
into a mighty grove
of confidence.
Copyright 2009, Marj McCabe ~ All rights reserved.
Labels: aftermath, alters, assertiveness, child abuse, child parts, comfort, feelings, healing, poem, Poetry, PTSD, self-esteem, therapy, triggers
February 21, 2009
Up and Down, In and Out
Whew! The last week has been a roller coaster ride. Up and down. In (as in closed in) and out (as in reaching out) again. As you may have seen from my last quicky post, my computer crashed. (I'm temporarily using a very, old and slow laptop my husband dug out for me--sure am glad he didn't donate or recycle it!)
My desk-top computer started acting really weird and then I think it got a virus. I noticed the weird activity, so asked my husband to put a bunch of my files on a flash drive. I also printed out hard copies of a lot of my poetry and writing for my some-day book. I guess I'm just old fashioned; I like having a nice, secure hard copy of things that may be irreplaceable.
Getting my files saved before my computer crashed was a mixed blessing. One of the things I found on my hard drive was a dissociative rant. It occurred around the end of August, beginning of September, last year. It was before I wrote about the dissociative period in this post here, and later, in this post here. I found new files that had been opened, with strange file names I could not recall. I also found some rants and incongruous writings within some of my existing files of poetry, quotes, book draft, etc. The ranting just went on and on and didn't seem to have any organization to it. I don't remember writing any of it.
Creepy feeling. Damn! I hate the feeling I get when I am forced to stand face-to-face with evidence of my extreme dissociation. It leaves me feeling like a freak, an outcast, a laughing stock, etc. etc. Stinkin' Thinkin' blah!
Then another incident occurred that was also a mixed blessing. I had thought I had found a group of people to meditate with and it turned out to be an unhealthy group (I won't go into the details). I went to a Sunday brunch event outside of the regular meditation time, and it turned out to be a big sales pitch for something affiliated with this group.
Wait just one cotton-pickin' minute! Don't sell to me, don't try to manipulate me, don't misrepresent things or lie to me. I don't like it! And, now--after years of therapy--I will tell you just that!
I then did some research and found out that this group is definitely my definition of unhealthy. I was on the Internet right when the "sales rep" called me up to follow up on the Sunday event. I saw his name and number on my caller i.d. I almost blew it off because I didn't want to confront. Then I started laughing out loud. What a coincidence--or serendipity, or synchronicity--just when I was reading some unpleasant things about this group and making my mind up to stay away from these people, I get a call from one of them! Ha! I decided that, not only was it funny, it was an opportunity to practice my assertiveness skills and keep myself safe.
I got on the phone and the caller asked if I had a few minutes to talk. "Sure," I said, "But, I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to say." I then went on to tell this man that I felt manipulated, sold to, etc. and that I did not like it. I also told him that I would no longer be meditating with the group and to take me off of their call list.
Yay, me! I was very disappointed to find out that something that I had found that I thought would be healthy for me was not, but I managed to confront, be assertive, take care of myself and keep myself safe. I guess there has been progress with all my therapy after all.
So, what does all this mean? I means motivation for another poem, of course! I wrote about my inner child coming out of exile on my dot com site under the Healing Moments page. It existed in prose form until I made a poem out of it. With my computer not working, I had to sketch it out on paper. But, I like the results.
Out of Exile
No crying myself back to sleep
from this nightmare
peace, opening
vast landscapes, possibilities
crisply, now in view.
Vulnerable energy
open, alive
frees a child from exile;
her battened-down isolation
left behind.
So trusting she was
it frightened me,
but I reached in to touch
her curdled scars;
beautiful as her dimpled smile.
She's all of it;
she's joy and pain,
gain, loss, hate and love.
They tell me
she's my inner child,
not someone
my parents could ever recognize.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Now that I have use of at least some slow sort of computer, I'll try to get around to some blogs and the Child Abuse Survivor Network and say hello. See ya around the blogosphere!
My desk-top computer started acting really weird and then I think it got a virus. I noticed the weird activity, so asked my husband to put a bunch of my files on a flash drive. I also printed out hard copies of a lot of my poetry and writing for my some-day book. I guess I'm just old fashioned; I like having a nice, secure hard copy of things that may be irreplaceable.
Getting my files saved before my computer crashed was a mixed blessing. One of the things I found on my hard drive was a dissociative rant. It occurred around the end of August, beginning of September, last year. It was before I wrote about the dissociative period in this post here, and later, in this post here. I found new files that had been opened, with strange file names I could not recall. I also found some rants and incongruous writings within some of my existing files of poetry, quotes, book draft, etc. The ranting just went on and on and didn't seem to have any organization to it. I don't remember writing any of it.
Creepy feeling. Damn! I hate the feeling I get when I am forced to stand face-to-face with evidence of my extreme dissociation. It leaves me feeling like a freak, an outcast, a laughing stock, etc. etc. Stinkin' Thinkin' blah!
Then another incident occurred that was also a mixed blessing. I had thought I had found a group of people to meditate with and it turned out to be an unhealthy group (I won't go into the details). I went to a Sunday brunch event outside of the regular meditation time, and it turned out to be a big sales pitch for something affiliated with this group.
Wait just one cotton-pickin' minute! Don't sell to me, don't try to manipulate me, don't misrepresent things or lie to me. I don't like it! And, now--after years of therapy--I will tell you just that!
I then did some research and found out that this group is definitely my definition of unhealthy. I was on the Internet right when the "sales rep" called me up to follow up on the Sunday event. I saw his name and number on my caller i.d. I almost blew it off because I didn't want to confront. Then I started laughing out loud. What a coincidence--or serendipity, or synchronicity--just when I was reading some unpleasant things about this group and making my mind up to stay away from these people, I get a call from one of them! Ha! I decided that, not only was it funny, it was an opportunity to practice my assertiveness skills and keep myself safe.
I got on the phone and the caller asked if I had a few minutes to talk. "Sure," I said, "But, I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to say." I then went on to tell this man that I felt manipulated, sold to, etc. and that I did not like it. I also told him that I would no longer be meditating with the group and to take me off of their call list.
Yay, me! I was very disappointed to find out that something that I had found that I thought would be healthy for me was not, but I managed to confront, be assertive, take care of myself and keep myself safe. I guess there has been progress with all my therapy after all.
So, what does all this mean? I means motivation for another poem, of course! I wrote about my inner child coming out of exile on my dot com site under the Healing Moments page. It existed in prose form until I made a poem out of it. With my computer not working, I had to sketch it out on paper. But, I like the results.
Out of Exile
No crying myself back to sleep
from this nightmare
peace, opening
vast landscapes, possibilities
crisply, now in view.
Vulnerable energy
open, alive
frees a child from exile;
her battened-down isolation
left behind.
So trusting she was
it frightened me,
but I reached in to touch
her curdled scars;
beautiful as her dimpled smile.
She's all of it;
she's joy and pain,
gain, loss, hate and love.
They tell me
she's my inner child,
not someone
my parents could ever recognize.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Now that I have use of at least some slow sort of computer, I'll try to get around to some blogs and the Child Abuse Survivor Network and say hello. See ya around the blogosphere!
Labels: abuse, advocacy, aftermath, alters, assertiveness, awareness, child abuse, community, dissociation, embarrassment, inner child, network, ning, poem, Poetry, survivors
December 22, 2007
I've Created a "Survivor Needs" Meme
This holiday season, many of us survivors are rushing around trying to get our gift shopping done and get all those items on our lists checked off. For some of us, the holidays are a painful time of triggers and obtrusive memories. Whether you hate Christmas, really get into the holiday spirit, or just tend to run yourself ragged this time of year, it's time to pay attention to some of your own needs.
I know! Let's make a list for ourselves and do it as a meme.
I've created a list of "Survivor Needs" and I've arranged them from 1-25, like an advent calendar counting down to the 25th day of December. I've also sprinkled in a few things that I, as a survivor and a human, just want! For your own list, maybe you need to pretend it's not the holidays. Maybe you can't tolerate touch (even cyber hugs), but you want some healing vibes sent your way. Maybe you don't feel comfortable telling your story, but you want others to know you are a survivor and not feel so alone.
This is your chance to communicate your own, personal survivor needs.
You don't have to wait to get tagged with this meme. Grab it and post a list of your own! Let's focus some attention on self care this holiday season...with an emphasis on getting our needs met in the New Year.
My Survivor Needs
As a survivor trying to thrive:
I know! Let's make a list for ourselves and do it as a meme.
I've created a list of "Survivor Needs" and I've arranged them from 1-25, like an advent calendar counting down to the 25th day of December. I've also sprinkled in a few things that I, as a survivor and a human, just want! For your own list, maybe you need to pretend it's not the holidays. Maybe you can't tolerate touch (even cyber hugs), but you want some healing vibes sent your way. Maybe you don't feel comfortable telling your story, but you want others to know you are a survivor and not feel so alone.
This is your chance to communicate your own, personal survivor needs.
You don't have to wait to get tagged with this meme. Grab it and post a list of your own! Let's focus some attention on self care this holiday season...with an emphasis on getting our needs met in the New Year.
My Survivor Needs
As a survivor trying to thrive:
- I need PEACE.
- I need some sleep!
- I need to feel safe in the shower and in my bed.
- I need rapport and effective work with a good therapist who cares.
- (Although I've often tried to do without them) I need anti-depressant meds and something for anxiety and sleep when I need it.
- I need to be silly and have some fun once in a while.
- I need to do safe, healthy anger work.
- I need to get in touch with my feelings.
- I need to be in my body.
- I need safe touch with trusted others and safe cyber hugs.
- I need to tell my story and know that I'm not alone.
- I need to advocate for and connect with other survivors, and raise awareness about sexual violence and abuse.
- I need soft, warm jammies, slipper socks, blankets, hoodies and throws.
- I need non-sexual touch and affection with my husband.
- I need to exercise assertiveness, boundaries and communication with others to keep myself safe.
- I need to get out in nature and know that all can be right with the world.
- I need to hold my child and feel his soft cheek against mine.
- I need a warm, furry pet.
- I need to comfort and re-parent my inner child.
- I need to renew my commitment to breaking the cycle...every day.
- I need to stay away from most of my family of origin--they are toxic!
- I need to continue to work on a healthy relationship with my sister.
- I need healthy self-esteem.
- I need to know that I am worth good things and I deserve them!
- I need to let you know that you're not alone either--I'm here and I care.
And, I also want (but don't necessarily need and/or might not ever have):
- I want coffee!
- I want chocolate!
- I want a cigarette (but I'm not going to have one).
- I want a pill that would eliminate my nightmares.
- I want to end all forms of sexual violence and child abuse everywhere, forever.
Rules of the "Survivor Needs" Meme:
- Please link back to this post so people can see the origins of the meme, get ideas for their own self-care list, see who's already been tagged, and maybe we can track how far this meme goes.
- List 25 needs and five wants. Try to restrict your needs list to things that have to do with being a survivor of some sort of abuse, assault, etc. Your wants list can be anything...you want!
- Use this list to remind yourself to get your needs met this holiday season and in the New Year.
- Pass on the meme and tag five people to play the meme with you. (I get to tag a few extra folks because, well, I started the meme, okay?)
I tag:
- Patricia Singleton at Spiritual Journey of a Lightworker
- Enola Survivor
- Lynn at Spilling Ink in Public
- Matthew at Loving Awareness
- Mike at Child Abuse Survivor
- Megan at Imaginif
- Marcella at Abyss2Hope
- Annaleigh at As Waters Passing By/Blessed Fearscapes
- Memory Artist
- Karma at Jew Exploring Buddhism
Note: Please don't be insulted if you don't see your name on this list. I've left some bloggers off on purpose because I want to give you the chance to tag (and I know you will anyway) each other.
Labels: advocacy, assault, assertiveness, awareness, chid abuse, holidays, medication, meme, needs, New Year, nightmares, self-care, sexual abuse survivors, sexual violence, therapy, thrive
November 14, 2007
Birthday's Over, Back to Reality
I had a wonderful, relaxing, pampering birthday. Thanks to all who stopped by with birthday wishes, sent e-mails, e-cards and helped make my day!
I'm glad I had a restful day off, 'cause it was "back to reality" pretty quick. Saturday was a crazy, juggling day and so was yesterday.
It's funny: Back when I was just automatically (and unaware of) dissociating all the time, I could juggle so many balls in the air at once without dropping a one. Now, I just get so overwhelmed most of the time. I try not to put more than one major thing on the calendar to accomplish in a day, if I can arrange it. I feel pretty pathetic sometimes. Once upon a time, I was a "successful professional." Oh well. The way I try to look at it now is that my healing and therapy is my "profession." If I can help anybody else, even a little bit, along the way, well that's an added bonus.
I did get a chance to use some of my corporate communications professional-type skills on Saturday. I went to a memorial service and went up in front of everyone at the pulpit and spoke about the person who had passed. It was just off the top of my head, too; I didn't write anything down or prepare at all. Many people told me how touched they were about what I had said. That made me feel good and feel like I had given the person we were remembering a nice gift.
Yesterday was a packed day on the calendar as well. But, the overwhelming piece of it was going to the dentist. I'd put it off as long as I could, but pain drove me in.
I'm really pissed that I'm still so traumatized by going to a dental appointment. I had worked a lot on this fear with my former therapist. I even got a referral by the facilitator of my old incest survivor support group to a dentist who was supposed to have all this training for dealing with survivors and helping them feel safe. Ha! What a joke! I had to have a crown put on a year ago, and it was a nightmare!
With the help of my therapist, I had pinpointed two areas that were key to my terror: reclining in the dental chair and having that bright light in my face. I decided assertiveness was key to my safety. I told all the staff members at this dental office about my survivor status, extreme dental fear, and what I needed to feel safe. I made it very clear that I would expect (and keep reminding) them to raise the chair up and turn the light off whenever it wasn't currently in use during my procedure.
Everyone there respected my requests except for one &%^#@ who had no respect, compassion or kindness about her. She sighed heavily every time I reminded her with my requests, sometimes simply ignoring me as if she hadn't heard. Every time she'd leave the room--leaving me reclined and with the light still shining in my face--I'd either sit up or get out of the chair. When she came back into the room, she'd chide, "What are you doing up?" How many ways do I need to explain this to you, lady?! I was so traumatized, I was literally trembling and you could see my feet and legs shaking (the heartless wench didn't even notice this, of course).
So, now I have a new dentist, referred to me by my current therapist. I took my son in to see him in June. I checked the place out and it felt okay. But, it took me another six months to get up my nerve to go in. The anti-anxiety medication my psychiatrist prescribed me was key. I still felt a bit scared, but the people there were nice yesterday and said that they wouldn't mind at all how many times I reminded them of my keep-safe requests. Actually, yesterday they remembered right away on their own.
So, that's the good news. The bad news is that I will need more procedures. Ya see, I clench my teeth a lot. I don't grind them, but I clench, and the damage is starting to show. My teeth are already worn down pretty good and now they're starting to crack. I could see cracks in them a long time ago, but now they're starting to cause pain, especially when eating. So, I need crack repair.
Also, this new dentist fitted me for a night guard he wants me to wear. I don't know how much I'm clenching my teeth in my sleep. I've noticed it for years when I do it during the day. It's often when I'm angry...or maybe when dissociating, I'm not sure. I asked this guy how to stop during the day. "You just notice and cut it out," he said. Oh, gee, I never would have thought of that! I have a feeling the night guard won't solve the problem. It'll be a miracle if I can feel safe and comfortable enough to wear it to bed anyway.
Even if they seem compassionate and understanding, these dentists really don't know anything about sexual abuse survivors. They really should have some kind of training; it's obviously sorely needed! Here are a couple of online links about dental fear and survivors, if you want to check them out: www.dentalfearcentral.org and www.sidran.org/dental.html . These are listed under "Resources: Survivor Issues" on my dot com site, www.survivorscanthrive.com .
I know Rising Rainbow was talking about dental and doctor fear on her blog the other day. If there are any others out there that are in the same boat as us, you have my sympathy, understanding, compassion and empathy. Take gentle care, all.
I'm glad I had a restful day off, 'cause it was "back to reality" pretty quick. Saturday was a crazy, juggling day and so was yesterday.
It's funny: Back when I was just automatically (and unaware of) dissociating all the time, I could juggle so many balls in the air at once without dropping a one. Now, I just get so overwhelmed most of the time. I try not to put more than one major thing on the calendar to accomplish in a day, if I can arrange it. I feel pretty pathetic sometimes. Once upon a time, I was a "successful professional." Oh well. The way I try to look at it now is that my healing and therapy is my "profession." If I can help anybody else, even a little bit, along the way, well that's an added bonus.
I did get a chance to use some of my corporate communications professional-type skills on Saturday. I went to a memorial service and went up in front of everyone at the pulpit and spoke about the person who had passed. It was just off the top of my head, too; I didn't write anything down or prepare at all. Many people told me how touched they were about what I had said. That made me feel good and feel like I had given the person we were remembering a nice gift.
Yesterday was a packed day on the calendar as well. But, the overwhelming piece of it was going to the dentist. I'd put it off as long as I could, but pain drove me in.
I'm really pissed that I'm still so traumatized by going to a dental appointment. I had worked a lot on this fear with my former therapist. I even got a referral by the facilitator of my old incest survivor support group to a dentist who was supposed to have all this training for dealing with survivors and helping them feel safe. Ha! What a joke! I had to have a crown put on a year ago, and it was a nightmare!
With the help of my therapist, I had pinpointed two areas that were key to my terror: reclining in the dental chair and having that bright light in my face. I decided assertiveness was key to my safety. I told all the staff members at this dental office about my survivor status, extreme dental fear, and what I needed to feel safe. I made it very clear that I would expect (and keep reminding) them to raise the chair up and turn the light off whenever it wasn't currently in use during my procedure.
Everyone there respected my requests except for one &%^#@ who had no respect, compassion or kindness about her. She sighed heavily every time I reminded her with my requests, sometimes simply ignoring me as if she hadn't heard. Every time she'd leave the room--leaving me reclined and with the light still shining in my face--I'd either sit up or get out of the chair. When she came back into the room, she'd chide, "What are you doing up?" How many ways do I need to explain this to you, lady?! I was so traumatized, I was literally trembling and you could see my feet and legs shaking (the heartless wench didn't even notice this, of course).
So, now I have a new dentist, referred to me by my current therapist. I took my son in to see him in June. I checked the place out and it felt okay. But, it took me another six months to get up my nerve to go in. The anti-anxiety medication my psychiatrist prescribed me was key. I still felt a bit scared, but the people there were nice yesterday and said that they wouldn't mind at all how many times I reminded them of my keep-safe requests. Actually, yesterday they remembered right away on their own.
So, that's the good news. The bad news is that I will need more procedures. Ya see, I clench my teeth a lot. I don't grind them, but I clench, and the damage is starting to show. My teeth are already worn down pretty good and now they're starting to crack. I could see cracks in them a long time ago, but now they're starting to cause pain, especially when eating. So, I need crack repair.
Also, this new dentist fitted me for a night guard he wants me to wear. I don't know how much I'm clenching my teeth in my sleep. I've noticed it for years when I do it during the day. It's often when I'm angry...or maybe when dissociating, I'm not sure. I asked this guy how to stop during the day. "You just notice and cut it out," he said. Oh, gee, I never would have thought of that! I have a feeling the night guard won't solve the problem. It'll be a miracle if I can feel safe and comfortable enough to wear it to bed anyway.
Even if they seem compassionate and understanding, these dentists really don't know anything about sexual abuse survivors. They really should have some kind of training; it's obviously sorely needed! Here are a couple of online links about dental fear and survivors, if you want to check them out: www.dentalfearcentral.org and www.sidran.org/dental.html . These are listed under "Resources: Survivor Issues" on my dot com site, www.survivorscanthrive.com .
I know Rising Rainbow was talking about dental and doctor fear on her blog the other day. If there are any others out there that are in the same boat as us, you have my sympathy, understanding, compassion and empathy. Take gentle care, all.
Labels: assertiveness, awareness, dental fear, phobias, sexual abuse survivors