I love ZUMBA!!!

There is something about ZUMBA!!  If you were to watch me Zumba, I would be the medicated woman going left when your going right.  I'm always on the back of the beat with the move.  As a trauma survivor, I cover as much of my body as is possible for the weather (sometimes I wish I were Muslim so skin showing just wouldn't be allowed).  Despite all these barriers, I just love Zumba!  There is something about the beat and the moves that sings to my soul.  There is something about the warm smiles and happiness of the instructor.  Then there is the rule that there is just no wrong moves, no judgement.  My body sometimes feels like it lives in a box and Zumba lets my body soar.  The choreography is constantly testing the limits of my coordination and I know that is so good for my brain and my mental flexibility.
There was a Zumba challenge tonight where we had two teams and a dance off.  The two sides of the room had to dance closer and closer to the other in a battle.  It was so fun spirited, it lifted my spirit.  I couldn't make eye contact in the Zumba battle, but I'll get there.
I wish they had Zumba in the office, the hospital, and in all those places that feel boxy.

Before trauma, early in healing or years down the road...exploring the sensory system in trauma.

Explorations of the sensory system can have many purposes.  They can assist in healing trauma or they can assist people to be more keenly aware of their sensory system in the pursuit of making people more aware of when trauma is occurring to give them voice.  There are several sensations to explore sight, sound, touch or texture, vestibular or how movement affects you, smell, and tastes.  The best gift I have received in a long time was a bag of sensory gifts:
scented candles
scented hand sanitizer
scented soaps
a beaded bracelet
These items were received at a leadership retreat with a theme of healing trauma.  I have really not been in tune with my sensory system, aside from a warm bath or hot tea, in this way in a while.  The gift sat there for a long while.  I was ignoring the invitation to explore.

Then as I was describing self-compassion to a friend, she asked what if you just can't love yourself in giving the gift of compassion to the self.  I realized that most of the trauma healing books I have read have explorations of the sensory system in the beginning.  This is where we find the self again by deciding what we like and don't like in terms of sensory experiences.  Being open and curious about ourselves can deepen our experience of the world.  I took the jasmine soap and Laguna candle out of my collection and had a bath.  I used to sing in the bath and I rediscovered my voice's mello tones, revisiting 'I cover the waterfront".  The whole next day I felt totally connected to my body and like I was enough in myself.  I invite you to explore your sensory system and be curious about the self.

Showing Up

Sometimes just showing up is a major move forward with recovery!  People get discouraged because they want to see change, but just showing up may be a gigantic step forward in someone's life towards pursuing progress!  Just admitting someone may have a drug or alcohol challenge, even if the person is unwilling to change, can be huge progress!  Just admitting your life isn't working for you may be a first step in beginning to address a challenge with mental health or trauma.  When we are well, sometimes watching those small steps is painful because we want more for the person.  It's important to remain positive and be welcoming, because it takes major courage to sit on the edge of change.  Sitting on that edge may mean just making a connection with someone and trusting them with your presence.  Stay hopeful - you are in connection to what could be the first steps ever taken forward in that persons pursuit of change!  Don't push to hard; just enjoy the miracle of presence!

Finding Myself in the Quiet Moments

Most Thanksgivings are full of activity and bustle for people.  Ever since we moved to Nebraska, there has been a slower tempo at the holiday.  Every one is special, because I have my son now and I never had him to celebrate before.  We just do not have extended family, so unless we spend $1000 or so in travel- there is just less.  This year is even slower because my husband is working on the holidays.  There are more quiet moments that I must be still in or enrich with activity.  It's the sacrifice our family makes to be in Nebraska.  It's been difficult to give up our traditions and yet we have new ones.  There is the nativity city at Cristo Rey and peach pie from Eustis, Nebraska.  There is a tree farm we find every year.  So, I asked my son this year what is he most thankful for and he said, 'Family'.  I am most thankful for the family and friends that we do have and the simple fact that I can handle the quiet moments in my own way.  

Addiction the Life Sucking Force that I Left Behind

I have often disclosed challenges related to alcohol, but never shared my story of addiction.  I was totally stuck.  I was around people that gave me a sense of belonging, but yet suck the life force out of you totally.  I hated my job and I drank at work to be able to stay there.  I only worked to stay in school.  My drinking spiraled out of control over time, when I met an occult priest.  My life of school was totally ditched, I sold my books and withdrew from all my classes to support my life with him, and the only thing that kept me alive was the vodka in the freezer.  At my lowest point I left the apartment where he kept me, I walked down the road in my pajamas drunk.  I was walking down a busy road with cars honking at me.  He pulled over to pick me up and take me back.  And in that same moment, I knew I had to go.  I hated my life with him, it totally sucked.  He left me bankrupt financially, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically.  I wanted to die.  He left me, because one day I started screaming uncontrollably.  I was so miserable.  He placed his shoulder in my mouth to muffle the screams and in that moment he realized what he was doing was wrong and he left.  I quickly became suicidal again and this time I got angry about it.  I called a psychologist and engaged in a 14 year relationship.  There was no drug and alcohol treatment.  Just talking.  I walked in and out of my misery till I quit drinking, figured out how to excel in school, and then finally started an antidepressant and I moved to another city to get my master's degree.  Then I became happy.  I still made poor choices, but I was happy and progressively made better and better choices.  I decided all my brain cells are important and I quit drinking forever.  This action supported my wellness and continues to.  Sanctuary came as I was sober and made better choices about who to be around and whom to not be around.  The cognitive components of psychotherapy didn't hurt either.  Medication is a constant, but only because I encountered bipolar disorder after this sobriety, sanctuary, and wellness was engaged.  My education only allowed me to dream bigger than big.  Education was my ultimate freedom.

Investing in Integration

Medical treatment is what many people focus their sights on when they encounter a behavioral health condition. The diagnosis itself can separate them from their community out of fear and stigma.  The recovery movement in the United States is focused on mentoring people back into their communities with natural supports.  A more integrated person may rely less on their medical system for support.

Traditionally behavioral health service providers have not been allowed to invest in socialization, like boardgames.  And while I agree board games are trivial in the grand scheme of integration, I believe we may have missed huge areas of social capital in terms of building integration.  Surveys and research indicate that stigma and discrimination is thick in our communities, and I think the recovery movement should do something about it. 

Why can't we have huge integration efforts where people have face-to-face encounters with people that have behavior health conditions.  There could be integrated public speaking forums, institutes within the school system, Sporting events dedicated to the art of integration, and more.  You see some of this work in the developmental disability community, particularly in Australia.  I think we don't fund social integration on the same scale in behavioral health because were striving for autonomy.  Autonomy is a great goal, but so are integrated relationships in communities that appreciate the courage of people with behavioral health conditions.

Why do we have to "fail" to get somewhere with insurance companies?

I have a wellness plan in place, but even the best wellness plan doesn't keep me from strong feelings about suicide, until recently.  Recently I began a new drug via samples from my APRN.  After months of taking it, we found out people are being told that they have to "fail" three antidepressants before they can take it.  So, I was really worried about this because after months of being free of suicidal thoughts, I might have to lose all this wellness.  So, I called the insurance company.  They tell me its on the formulary, just send in my prescription.  So I do and I wait.  I even get an email that its on the way, but something is fishy about how long its taking so I call.  I find out that they have to have my doctor fill out a form before they will give me the drug she prescribed that is on their formulary!  Can you believe this?  A good friend of mine just went into the world of disability because she can't find the right concoction for her condition.   Another friend had to "fail" six drugs to get the treatment she wanted.  Then I find something that works and I have to prove something to get what my doctor says I need and the formulary covers?  No wonder people complain about the complexities of the behavioral health system.  We can't even just get drugs that work, when we need them. I'm waiting on the answer, but I shouldn't be waiting.  The healthcare system should consider quality of life, people being well enough to pay taxes, and never making people "fail" to be well.

Global Peer Supporter Celebration Day is all about inclusion!

A friend asked me to post my story for Global Peer Supporter Celebration Day and when I think about peer support I think that its all about inclusion.  Before I was introduced to peer support, I lived a life of hiding and feeling half-human.  I nursed my wounds of my trauma secretly and did my best to fit in with the world around me.  After I found peer support, I realized that all my secrets that doctors called psychosis had another name, peers called them truth.  I found myself suddenly believable and more of a person.  As I was accepted on a profound level like never before, I realized that I could have close alliances again.  Suddenly, my sense of community got bigger, because I could see where I belonged.  

     Today I filmed some people talking about their recovery. Sharing the word of recovery with others is what peer support is about.  The more we invest in peer support, the more we will invest in true inclusion.   The point of the film is to create a new peer support service that will result in great community inclusion.

     Another part of inclusion is really believing in people's ability to recover.  That means everyone can, something that my early teachers taught me to never question.  This takes strength, because lots of people want to divide the "good" people from the "bad" people.  The reality is that we are all human and we all deserve an opportunity to experience rebirth in the recovery and peer support movement.  

It was a great day for recovery and peer support, and ultimately inclusion.  I'm so lucky I have work that is so close to my heart.  (Pictured is me and Mike Wight, a videographer)

Adding Choice in an Hour One May Need It Most by Carol Coussons de Reyes

       While I have never been in secluded or restrained in a room by healthcare providers, I have slept in a restraint room.  The door was not locked and it was the only quiet space I could find for sleeping at the time.  I have witnessed seclusion and restraint procedures and they are very frightening to me, as a person with a mental health condition.  The fights that break out in hospitals are equally frightening. 

I had a brainstorm about this procedure that could make it more humane.  What if in the hour when a person is separated from the world, and at times immobilized by the hands of people they hardly know, choices were introduced?  Could this empower the individual to reach beyond the trauma of the moment? 

What if the person was offered a menu of choices during these procedures, like:

a)    Would you like someone in the room with you during the procedure?

b)   Would you like to see a particular image on the wall?

c)    Would you like to smell a particular scent that is soothing to you?

d)   Would you like to speak with someone who will listen? (I have never instigated a fight, but if I had I imagine that I would want to vent.  What if there was a ventilator available- someone to listen to the person rant?).

I don’t really have the expertise to understand what the result of such human touches might have on this procedure.  I do understand that seclusion and restraint procedures are about safety and not about punishment, so adding to this medical procedure seems to make sense to me.  It’s the same things that I do to deal with my trauma, find an image to hone in on and a scent that will place me in a better place upstairs in my mind.  If I didn’t have friends to call, when I’m angry, I’m not sure where I would be. 

All of these tools should be offered up entrance to the hospital, because perhaps having such tools available to practice with could prevent the procedure all together. 

  

Recovery and Wellness: Measuring Individual Differences

There are a lot of people investing a lot of energy in measuring individuals with recovery measures.  They say so and so is more recovered, and so and so is less recovered.  There are terms like "Advanced Recovery".  I believe this to be an error in judgement, because everyone has recovery skills and saying someone is more recovered than another just sounds silly.  Recovery is non-linear.  The person with a history of alcohol addition, is only one drink away from returning.   The person with a mental health condition may find themselves in the throws of trauma or a former state, through events that have nothing to do with recovery.  I firmly believe that we are beings that contain all that we need to be whole, something introduced to me recently.  I firmly believe what we should be measuring individuals on is not recovery, but actually wellness in its 8 dimensions: http://www.samhsa.gov/wellness-initiative/eight-dimensions-wellness.  We have a high degree of variance here and that is where the real telling outcomes lie.   There are wellness skills that people can learn and there are external factors that impact our wellness that we can work on.  The area seems rich and fruitful in measuring how effective programs actually are.  Wellness also goes right to the heart of the disparity that we are living in the middle of.  Statistics say we die 2 decades earlier than our peers, when we measure and try to impact wellness, we are at the heart of where true change must occur.  When we talk about wellness we are looking at a measure pivotal to all people and there is a sense of equality in that to me.  

Compassionate Ramblings

As I embark on a journey of self-discovery, I'm finding myself dipping into the past when I was hospitalized for the first time.  The whole world seemed like it was against me and I've chronicled this journey in my memoir- Falling Into Peaces.  As I am reaching new levels of self acceptance, I am reminded of how I felt them.  I felt that I was the victim of a crime and that the world was responding inappropriately to me, back in 2003.  I was so confused, I stopped eating even.  What would have been different if people had listened to my story of victimization and honored it.  How would I have received medication differently.  What if people had had the time to really listen.  I was there for a month or more, but it seemed I was hardly heard.  I had a friend tell me they felt their story  of being a victim of a crime would be less believable, if her diagnosis were bipolar disorder instead of PTSD.  I was flown back in memory to my hospitalization. How do we honor victims of crime and keep safety for all in the community?  I am a woman of many fears, they are like my children.  They cry to me to avoid this or that, and I helplessly listen.  I beginning to realize I'm not so helpless and that I can honor my fears with compassion by accepting them as survival skills.

I feel much freer to choose today, because I realize my fears are there to keep me safe.  I can choose to honor them.  I can also choose to unplug from them in love, when I don't need them anymore.  Some of the things that I am afraid of simply aren't around me and sometimes they really are.  Sometimes I want to take a risk that goes against my fears, like when I am assisting some like myself unplug from their fears.  So the further I travel down the road, I am realizing I carry my past with me into the future.  I don't live in the past, but it is part of me.  How do we honor all parts of a person in the hospital.  I feel like my fears were always the subject of medication until now.  How do we honor our human fears?  I've learned to love them, I wish that self-compassion were a part of the larger society, behavioral health and beyond.

Freedom in America?

We took a short cut.  We ended up traveling through miles and miles of national grasslands.  The view seemed never ending and with the exception of a few campers, we were alone.  It was as beautiful as it was frightening.  The thought that continues to circle in my head was who would respond to a psychiatric emergency here?  As we continued towards civilization I had no idea I was headed towards a crisis in the west.  We arrived at the pristine ranch and I proceeded to call in my psychiatric prescription that my pharmacy couldn't fill in time for my departure.  We visited Mt. Rushmore then the next day I called to see if my prescription was ready.  The news was not what I expected- my routine med of the last 4 years had been discontinued by the manufacturer.  The news sent panic through my body and I called my prescriber.  I waited for 6 hours at least, before I started to worry she was on vacation.  I called urgent care, because my need was urgent- I had nothing left of my atypical antipsychotic.  The answer: we don't prescribe psychiatric meds.  They recommended primary care.  I called a family practice.  The answer: we can't do anything without your records.  Their recommendation was to call my doctor.  I searched for psychiatric hospitals and federally qualified health centers, only to be paralyzed with fear that that wouldn't work.  I began to realize the extent that healthcare is not integrated at all.  Above all if a smart reasonably intelligent woman can't easily obtain an urgent prescription fill to avoid a crisis- we are have a huge disparity and larger crisis at hand in our nation.  What happened to parity laws?  As I gaze at national symbols of freedom, I wonder what happened to my right to pursue happiness?  I finally called my family practice doctor back home, they called in a prescription for me for the  generic drug with words of trepidation that it was a controlled substance.  As I return from a breathtakingly beautiful trip I am aware- something is wrong in America.

Charles B. Willis Spoke Truth

Charles B. Willis died yesterday, and his friendship healed a hole in my heart.  He's the first man I heard talk about the trauma of sexual abuse.  He's also my first close friend who was African American.  Some people don't want to recognize themselves as a person of color, but Charles was more than this to me.  What I'm trying to say is growing up there was always a hole in my heart around hearing extended family members use racial slurs.  I think that for much of my family, this barrier of language will keep me from ever really feeling close to them.  I also remember the first roses I ever received were from an Afrcan American male.  My mom told me that my father shouldn't find out.  I can still remember a family dinner party, where my drunken uncle reflected on the violence of a different generation.  The real piece about my family tree that killed a piece of my soul in 2011 was learning that a favorite family elder had travelled to Africa to fight in wars and work in diamond mines - what that meant hit me like a stone in 2011 and sent me to the hospital.  Charles' friendship healed for me the trauma of racism I experienced growing up, really all my friends of color do.  I admire Charles' willingness to talk about trauma in sharing his story, so I know sharing my truth about the trauma of sexual abuse, the trauma of being a human trafficking survivor, and the trauma of racism will set me free.  Love you Charles, now and forever.  

Erasing my past few days of journey...

Saying all I could, when I can't say quite what I want is why I am erasing 5 days of blogging.  I don't feel the need to blog about all this and if my blog meant something to you, well thats probably a reflection of something inside you.  I need to step way back.  I'm feeling better, all I can say is thank-God for my husband, son, friends, and anti-depressants.

Peace and love,
Carol

Self-Love vs. Shame

This Valentine's Day my focus is on self-love.  Shame is the tool perpetrators in our society. They create create acts of violence to shame the victim.  I refuse to be a victim any longer- I let shame go the moment I announced on my blog I was a human trafficking survivor.  Before I was worried what will my boss or my boss' boss say?  What will my husband say?  Then I stopped the moment I realized that that worry was shame- the very tool of the perpetrators in my past.  I realized I do not have anything to worry about at all- because if anybody has anything negative to say about naming the trauma, they are aligning themselves with the perpetrator.  I will not allow myself to be denied words of self-acceptance and self-love!  I will stand in my shoes and name the violence of the perpetrator- human trafficking.  Naming gives us an opportunity to do something about trauma.  Because I named this trauma I  was able to align myself with a whole group of human trafficking survivors by joining the National Survivor Network. What can one survivor do in the company of many- the sky is the limit.  Happy Valentine's Day to me!

The Pounding of My Heart....

Some may think that I didn't struggle for long, because I escaped so quickly.  What is not understood in that single story is that I have been trying to escape in my mind for 20 years.  They are in my thought, over my shoulder, and in the shadows of my mind.  I was not a hero, there was no grand exit just an escape to 20 years or so of silence.  My heart pounded as I fled China and it didn't stop till I found sanctuary in relationships of healing in peer support.  Healing surrounded by other fleeing something inside too.
My story of escape became surreal and in the crevices of my mind, always hiding from them inside.  Hiding my story until age 43, when I made a video on my trauma story that I never published.  Hearing the videographers exclaim I was a survivor of human trafficking changed something.  This gave a name for what happened to me.  Now that I have found a whole group of survivors, I hope that they will accept me.  My moments of captivity were so few compared to the suffering of others and compared to the suffering of the women I left behind to escape.
As I try to connect with a new group of peers.  I know one thing, peer support has always been there for me and always will be.  It is my career, my life, my connection to sanctuary.  Without this sanctuary, I wouldn't have my family today because I never would have been able to trust on this level.  May this new group of peers in my life only deepen my trust in the earth's people.

The Mighty Pen.

Writing is quite an adventurous endeavor.  I enjoy writing about life and sharing my experiences.  There is something very powerful about putting thoughts on paper.  Seeing the pictures of the people memorializing the life of the Parisian cartoonist brings tears to me eyes.  There is something so powerful about raising a pen.  This is one reason I am so happy my son has learned to draw and write despite all odds, because I want him to be able to express himself in many forms.  There is something powerful about a real pen on paper.  I have several cartoons I have created as a release to share how I feel about some absurdity of life, but I am not brave enough to share them.  I realize their power and keep them close to my heart in fond memory of the time.  The images assisted me in expressing my feelings that were beyond what I could express in ordinary language.

Working in government, I have learned the art of what to say and what not to say.  This is a delicate dance of sharing the issues while being positive.  People that have worked in government a long time can sound very strange at times, having lived this way for so long.  I value the role I have, because it calls on me to infuse a little reality into what can be a vacuum at times.  Though these are often internal conversations.  I also admire the non-profit organizations ability to infuse a little more reality.  What I admire the most, is the might of the pen of the ordinary citizen that makes a stand.  One pen can give pause to a whole system.  People may not realize the great power they hold.

As people with behavioral health conditions, often we turn inward with our feelings and thoughts.  There seems to be few avenues of expression at times where the lens of analysis doesn't reduce our statements to a diagnosis, but this can be a feeling we impose on ourselves.  We can own our art as part of our stories and we can own our writing as powerful expressions of meaning and purpose.  We can do more than doodle and journal our feelings, we can change the world.  Express yourself!

Welcoming Myself into Being

This blog entry is about healing from the ice of trauma, so you may want to read or not depending where you are on the spectrum of readiness and support from others on this journey.  I have begun reading a book by Levine on Trauma.  It talks about the freeze response involved in your body after trauma and ushering your body back into being.  The exercise in the book seemed to difficult for me.  So, I made up my own.  I often get frozen by my thoughts, feelings, sensations and just muddle through.  Today I did something different.  I welcomed my body, feelings, thoughts, sensations, and people around me at the gym into being in my mind.  This may not be the greatest place for such an exercise, because there are so many distractions.  Also if something painful enters your mind then you may not be in the right place to deal effectively with that at the gym.  My gym is really friendly and I wanted to challenge myself.  So I started a conversation with myself while on the elliptical machine.  Some sensation arose and I welcomed it by saying, "Welcome tension in my back, welcome chest, welcome hips, welcome heart rate rising, welcome feet, welcome man walking by."  I was working out next to my husband and I had this memory of meeting him and salsa dancing with him.  It was an amazing meditation on being in the moment that I hope I can continue.  I usually work out in a sweatsuit hoody to give me extra comfort, but I'm so in my body I feel I might be able to let it go next time.  This beautiful moment was interrupted by a minor family emergency.  I have hope of living this way and wanted to share. Being in the moment is powerful and life giving!