Going on Hiatus! (approx. 1½ - 2 min. read)

It’s time to get serious!!

It’s been almost eight months since the CSR came back in my right eye and I’ve decided I need to take a couple of weeks off, before my follow-up appointment with the eye surgeon. Yes, I know I should have done it earlier, but I find it so difficult to slow down and take care of me.

The 'voices' in my head have always told me that if I wasn’t working or being productive, then I was un-worthy and didn’t deserve to be part of humanity ...and although I’m learning to quiet 'the voices,' they are still there.

What I really need to do, is not only quiet them, I need to shut them down! The 'voices' in question aren’t worthy of my attention; they were merely manipulative words drilled into my head to get me to be an obedient little puppet, but I digress...

The surgical appointment is in just over four weeks and if my retina hasn’t closed, the surgeon will use a needle to try and draw out some of the fluid so that the hole will be able to close.

Which brings me to the reason for this week’s blog ...I’m leaving in two days to go away to a warm tropical island for two (whole) weeks - it’s what the Doctor ordered!

I’ve promised my husband, as well as myself, that I’m going to do nothing except relax for two weeks. When I get home, I’m going to see the surgeon and do whatever it is I need to do to get my sight back; then I’m going to get back to the goal of finishing my book.

While I’m gone, you can check out my previous blog posts at http://www.davinalytle.com/bloglist; especially the one I wrote when I was in Jamaica the last time called, “Being Counter-Productive.” It’s honestly one of the reasons I’m taking the full two weeks to do some #selfcare and some #selflove, as well as wallow in the company of the man I love most in this world.

See you in two weeks, and hopefully with both eyes! Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Another Update, but Only Because You Asked. (approx. 3 min. read)

I know I’ve already discussed this, but it’s really getting to me...

It’s been almost three years since I started writing my (first) book and I have to tell you that it’s proving to be a lot harder to finish than I had anticipated.

When I first started writing, I figured it would take two years tops - from writing it to getting it on the shelves, but it’s not working out that way and I feel like I’m failing.

Sure, I’ve had some setbacks; my eyesight has been a real issue in the last three years and in the last eight months it has gotten so bad that I can barely see out of my right eye. The surgeon says that the only way to make the CSR (central serous retinopathy) better, is to eliminate the stress in my life and I’m really not sure how to do that.

Then, there’s the issue with finding an editor I can trust and believe me, this is really hard to do! I did a lot of research and found someone that was supposed to be really good at their ‘game,’ but after handing over my manuscript to her, and my lifesavings, I was less than satisfied.

Four months after I handed it over, I got it back with a note saying “By publisher ready, I thought you meant the content of your book would be ready... books are always then proofread before being published to catch any last little typos.”

It cost me almost $3000.00 and I still need to have it edited! That’s not what I was promised and needless to say, the manuscript is sitting on a shelf in my office. I have no idea where to go from here and I sure don’t have the cash to have it re-edited.

My husband, bless him, just keeps telling me the reason it’s not edited properly is because my story isn’t finished yet, and he may be right - why else would this happen?

Since August of last year when I handed in what I thought was my ‘completed manuscript,’ so much has changed. Members of my chosen family are now talking amongst themselves - something that certain members of our family of origin didn’t want - and the truth is pouring out like an erupting volcano!

Truths that have been hidden for decades; truths that need to be shared. I know it’s going to be really hard because I’m still afraid to tell the truth, but I’m sure that has to do with the grooming.

Like most survivors, I was groomed to hide a lot of things and when anyone ever asked about me, my family of origin would tell them that I had Munchausen’s (they still say this), so that no one would ever believe anything I had to say. You gotta know how hard that was growing up; being treated like a bad person, a dishonest one at that, by the people who are supposed to care about you the most.

Anyway, through therapy and a group of my chosen family coming out of the woodwork to finally share their stories, I’ve decided that grooming or not, the truth needs to come out. It’s the only way for me to truly heal and move forward ...and I know I used to have concerns about getting sued by my family of origin for telling my story, but I’m hoping justice will prevail and my child abusers will be punished for their crimes.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

It’s #BellLetsTalk Week - A Great Time to Have a Guest Blogger! (approx. 1 min. read)

It’s been a while since I did my last guest post and although I already had a blog written for this week, I decided with it being #BellLetsTalk week, I would do another guest post.

The author is someone I’m incredibly proud of; my oldest daughter and I thought it would be nice to hear from a survivor that has little ones to take care of; as well as themselves.

I originally thought she would like to remain anonymous, and totally respected that; however like myself, she believes that the truth has been hidden far too long.

So without further ado - head on over to my “Guest Posts,” page and read “oneramblingmama’s” view of how she deals with mental illness. You can also check her out on her website: https://oneramblingmamablog.com

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

P.S. If you’re having trouble finding it, hover over where it says “A Survivor’s Guide to Living With PTSD” and a list will drop down. :-)

I Still Think Thou Dost Protest TOO Much! (approx. 3-4 minute read)!

I know I’ve said it before, but please read on and you can be the judge:

I’m still reeling from the aftermath of last week’s emails...

When all was said and done, four more family members came forward and also sent emails to the family of origin in question. It was incredible! I believed that my nephew and I were going to receive vindication. We honestly thought that this time the truth was going to come out. After all, there were a lot more of us speaking up and speaking out about it, and we believed the guilty parties were finally going to pay. Were we wrong!

Instead, I receive a call from the Ontario Provincial Police (O.P.P.).

Can you imagine how that was for me? A voice on the other end of the phone said, “Is this Davina Lytle? This is Officer Jake Wise calling from Dishonesty County.” It really isn’t the name of the town, but I’ve been told to change names, etc. so that no one can come back on me. Officer Jake said “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

I almost fell over ...what the heck did I do to warrant a call from a police officer and one that called me by name?!

Officer Jake continued talking and told me that two members of my family of origin were sitting across from him. They told him that my oldest daughter and I were sending harassing emails to them, and it needed to stop.

First of all I told him they weren’t harassing emails; they were emails merely asking questions about the past. Secondly, I told him that my oldest daughter wasn’t the one sending them; she was the recipient. It was me and some other members of our family of origin who were sending the emails. Including me, there were four of us in total and we decided it was time to tell the truth and call out some of our family of origin.

It was really quite nasty, because there were over 5 decades of anger and frustration so let’s just say; I wasn’t my usual diplomatic self. In all honesty, I’m embarrassed; not by what I said, because it was the truth and it needed to come out, but in the way that I said it. I had never spoken back to these people and it’s apparent in the ugly hateful words I wrote; but I seem to have made it worse.

I wanted to make sure that everyone who had ever doubted me would know the truth about my family of origin and I carbon-copied (CC) all of the emails to everyone in our family of origin.

I tried to explain in the emails that my daughter had recently questioned certain members of our family of origin, and for the first time in her life. She had never gone against the grain and now that she had, they were angry.

Needless to say, she was deleted and blocked from their Facebook accounts, email addresses, etc. They also wrote in a letter to my nephew, that she was as dead to the family as I am. Plus, they deleted and blocked everyone else that questioned them regarding the scenarios mentioned in the emails.

Really?! My daughter had nothing to do with any of it, yet she was deleted and blocked from all of their accounts and then they called the cops on her (us)! All she wanted - all that any of us wanted - was for the truth about the abuse to come out, and we ended up being treated like perpetrators instead of victims! WTF!

I wonder what members of our family of origin are going to say about her; the latest member of the ‘team’ that left? Does she also have Munchausen’s?! Or is she an alcoholic?! What are they going to say? How will they discredit her character like they did mine? She did nothing but ask a couple of questions about her mother; about why the rest of the family hates her so much.

Anyway, I’m feeling really dejected right now. Here I was, trying to tell my daughters and my nephew that the truth always prevails, but I’m not sure I believe that right now. My name is in a police report (me!!) and it isn’t a police report finally giving me the justice I need to truly move forward. Instead, I’m the one being chastised and being treated like a criminal! The rest of them - the ones that caused the abuse; and the ones that are covering it all up - once again, they got off Scott free!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Can You Say #Validation?! (approx. 2½ minute read)

It’s 4:00 am and I’ve been lying here for hours ...not because of nightmares tonight but because I can’t stop thinking about this week’s blog.

Since the conception of my website, I have received a lot of hate mail. People accusing me of lying, of faking my illness, people accusing me of having Munchausen’s disease. That last one actually came from my family of origin, among other things.

As you can imagine, it’s been extremely difficult talking about having PTSD. It has always been my word against the world’s and there have been times when I’ve felt like giving up.

I lost my oldest daughter’s respect years ago because of things that were said to her by my family of origin and as you know, she stopped talking to me in October of 2015. But - and it’s a huge but - she’s come back into my life and I couldn’t be more elated!

She received a letter from someone in our family of origin that was also a victim of our family of origin’s violence. This person poured out their heart to confirm that I haven’t been making any of it up. I can’t tell you how much that kind of validation has put me on top of the world!

The person that wrote the letter, told me to it in any way that would help, and in the beginning I was going to post it on here, but I’ve changed my mind - for now.

This fight to #endthestigma around mental illness is mine; and it wouldn’t be fair to put this person out there like I have myself. It’s been one of the most difficult things I’ve done in my life and I just won’t do it to someone I love as much as I love life itself.

I have, however, forwarded the email to quite a few people in my family of origin so they can decide for themselves.

I know the earworm(s) will continue to try and cover it up, and continue to discredit and make fun of me, but there will be at least one person that will start to doubt the stories they’ve been told all these years.

Someone that will look back on all the times they stood at family gatherings and belly laughed at the earworm(s) when they discredited my character and only because they wanted to stop the truth from coming out.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.  

Another Reminder that We Still Have a Long Way to Go... (approx. 5-6 minute read)

I received an email this week and although I tried to respond to the address it was sent from, it was blocked. So I decided to use the email as well as my response to it, for this week’s blog. Please excuse any spelling errors in the email, as I just copied and pasted it:

“Your traumatic event was something literally every one I know has experienced. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary - or something one would consider to be a truly traumatic experience. 

To obtain peoples understandings, you would be better served if you framed this around anxiety instead of PTSD.

 Its sort of disrespectful to people who have endured untold trauma and agonies and moved on, to have you parade an incredibly minor experience around. 
And its also a powerful tool to use to explain why anxiety disorders are so debilitating - after all if your reaction to something so minor was this big due to anxiety, surely anxiety makes trauma hell!. 

You aren't weak, or a bad person. Nor do I think you're sharing this experience for personal gain. 

You make very good points in your literature and I'm sorry you had to go through what you have. 

I simply think framing the incident as the cause is wrong - a healthy mind would not have had the reaction yours did. You did not experience sustained trauma, or sustain damage to yourself or those you care for. The incident was not a big deal. 

What it triggered in you was. *That* is the trauma - the anxiety from other sources after the event. Combined with the shame and judgement of loved ones about your anxiety, that sustained stress, those feelings -all of that is the piece that makes sense as traumatic. 

I live in a communal housing project. People here pull knives on each other with variable frequency. 

If I get up to use the restroom at 2am, I have to be on guard. Its hyper vigilance as a lifestyle. 

Just happens I was once a soldier. At least I was trained for it. Now I understand what they meant by "always a soldier". 

I think that's my problem with your story. I served with people who had to see horrors I couldn't comprehend (I never had the honor of deploying) - and I would never compare the trauma I have endured to the things they have seen. 
I personally have been raped, beaten, robbed, was homeless and couldn't even sleep in safety. 

I've been through the ringer. And my trauma is *nothing* compared to theirs. 
So to see you take a trauma I would laugh at, and use it in literature as something that could reasonably cause PTSD is offensive to me. 

No. PTSD is not limited to combat experience. Many civilians experience it. I would never diminish someone's pain for not having served (dawns on me that I do not know if you have) - I just would limit what events qualify as traumatic. 
As I have attempted to relay, I understand your trauma is very real. But, I think you're lying to yourself if you think the trauma came from that event, instead of what happened in your life emotionally from the event triggering an anxiety disorder.”

My response:

“Thank you, dshirt44545. I truly appreciate your comments and I want you to know that I'm very sorry for making you feel like I'm being disrespectful. 

I have quite a few friends that, like you, are soldiers and I've heard their horrendous stories about the things they saw and did fighting in combat.

I know that my traumas (and I say traumas because there have been multiple), aren't comparable to someone who has been deployed, but as you know, they affect the human brain the same way.  

I'm also sorry that you don't feel like my trauma is worthy of writing a blog over, but I assure you that the trauma I have opened up about on my blog isn't the only trauma I have endured. The origin of my traumas didn’t just come from being held up; it also came from being sexually, emotionally and physically abused by my family of origin ...and that started when I was extremely young. 

The abuse continued through most of my teenage years but from what I’ve read, one of the things that made matters worse for me was that I also had two head traumas before the age of 12. One of them was so bad I ended up at Sick Kid’s Hospital in Toronto for almost a week.

By the time I was 14 I started running away from home and as you know, being on the streets isn't safe. I was raped multiple times during my times living on the streets, but I was afraid to go home and I felt like I had nowhere to turn. In fact, to avoid going back to my childhood home I ended up getting married at the age of 18 to an alcoholic.

As for having difficulties sleeping ...I have nightmares every night. Most of my nightmares are about the person, who used to come down the hall and do incestual things to my body while I tried to sleep. Now, decades later, I have trouble sleeping for more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half at a time, before waking to a nightmare.

You know “dshirt,” I could go on, but I honestly don't have time. I'm trying to end the stigma around PTSD and mental illness; if you'd like to climb on board and help me, then climb on. If not, stop picking on people like me that end up getting triggered by your accusations and negativity.

Stay safe and stay strong.”

That’s it ...seems like we still have a long way to go to end the stigma around mental illness, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again -#TogetherWeAreStronger!

Stay safe and stay strong. Happy New Year, thanks for following. 

Struggling ...But Convincing Myself It's Only Part of the Growth Cycle. (approx. 3 minute read).

Am I glad that’s over! Not the visit with my friend Jack because that was amazing; I’m talking about Christmas! I thought that changing it up this year would help me to get through it, but it still really hit me hard.

I’m totally fine that I don’t have any contact with most of my family of origin, there is way too much history there. However, the reminder that I don’t have much of a family of origin hurts me to the core, if you get what I mean?

I was feeling pretty good until about two weeks before Christmas. Then I found myself staying in bed later and later; I also found myself crying a lot. It was then that I realized that I was starting to go down that lonely road; the one surrounded by darkness and inner demons.

Everywhere I looked and everyone I spoke to reminded me that Christmas was just around the corner and all I wanted to do was disappear. Sure, I was excited because I was going to be sharing the holidays with my chosen family, but the reminders that I was a misfit completely crushed me.

There were all kinds of posts on social media about unconditional love from parents and families of origin and they all reminded me just how alone I was.

Please, don’t get me wrong - I was and still am surrounded by my chosen family and they are incredible - but it just doesn’t compare. During the weeks leading up to Christmas I tried so hard to stay positive and pretend that everything was okay, but inside I was aching. I felt torn into so many pieces because I knew I should feel grateful for the people that were and still are in my life; I just couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.

I don’t think I can do that again ...the hurt and longing to be loved and accepted at the time of year when families are so close to one another, is unbearable.

I haven’t been on social media since Christmas Eve and it was partly because my internet went out and it couldn’t be fixed until today, but it was also because I just feel so dejected.

I know that ‘this too shall pass’ but right now, all I want to do is hide from the world. I honestly don’t have the energy to put on a happy face and fake it until I make it right now, so I’m going to take a little time off and do some self-care.

I shouldn’t be gone too long, hopefully not much more than a week or two.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following. xo

I Have a Very Special Guest Coming For Christmas. (approx. 3 min. read).

My husband and I have a very special guest coming for Christmas this year; we’re going to call him Jack for privacy purposes.

I met Jack just over fifteen years ago on a holiday in Jamaica and we’ve been fast (as in steadfast) friends ever since. We were both there with our families for weddings and something just clicked between us. Not like lovers but the bond of a deep friendship.

He lives in England and I live in Canada and we talk on the phone at least once a month. We’ve travelled back and forth, me more than him, as well as meet-up in Jamaica with our spouses for a holiday.

When Jack and I first met, neither of us had any idea that we shared the same mental illness ...but then things really changed for me. My second husband left me for another woman, and then I got held up at work.

My life was shattered. My workplace injury caused my PTSD to come to the forefront and Jack seemed to be the only person that understood my life would never be the same again.

Jack and I hadn’t talked much about PTSD prior to me being held up; we had no idea this was something we shared. He thought it was something he had because of the war and figured it was nothing to talk to a civilian about. Me ...I always thought my hyper-vigilance, anxiety and nightmares were normal; that everybody had the same feelings.

After I was (finally) diagnosed with PTSD, Jack asked me to visit so “we could talk.” It was so hard for me to get on that plane but I did it and I’m so glad I did, because it was absolutely incredible! Jack ‘got’ me and it seemed, at the time, that nobody else did. Everybody else just kept telling me how disappointed they were with me; that I needed to ‘get over it’ and get on with my life!

With Jack, I didn’t need to explain anything because he’d fought in the Gulf War and he ‘got’ it. The fear I felt on a day-to-day basis, as well as the symptoms of this horrible disease, were something Jack had been living with for years. His triggers are completely different than mine but the symptoms are exactly the same; for the first time since my held up, I felt a little hope.

Now it’s years later and the tables are turned. It’s my turn to give that hope. Unfortunately, Jack is going through the same thing I went through shortly after we met. After almost twenty years, Jack’s wife decided that living with someone with PTSD was too much for her. That the limits they had around their lives because of Jack’s anxiety weren’t enough to keep her in love with him and she chose infidelity.

Needless to say, Jack is facing his first Christmas without the woman he loved for decades, and Gary and I just couldn’t let him do it alone. We offered Jack our spare room for the Christmas holidays and he said yes! Tomorrow evening, my (adopted) little brother is going to be arriving in Canada for a holiday.

I’m so proud of him because I know it’s going to be rough and that he’s going through a lot of anxiety, but he keeps telling me that the hug at the end of the plane ride will absolutely make it worthwhile - and I have to agree!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Reaching out to My Social Media Family. (approx. 2 ½ min. read).

As most of you know, I started creating a platform for myself in August of 2015. First, I created www.davinalytle.com and on August 20, 2015, I published my first blog, called “It’s Time We Started Talking about It.”

Shortly after that, I started posting about my blogs and mental illness on my personal Facebook; by the time November of 2015 hit, I was ready to get a Twitter account. Then, in January of 2016 I created a Facebook page called “I’m Still Here,” and finally, I joined LinkedIn.

It’s been a whirlwind and there have been times when I’ve needed to take a step back; for the most part though, I’ve reveled in it.

I’ve met so many people like me, who are living with a mental illness, and they’ve welcomed me into their lives like I’m a long-lost sister and I believe I have found a place where I truly belong.

When it comes to these people, there is no need to explain why I’m having an ‘off’ day or why I can’t drag my ass out of bed. They just know.

These people, whom I happily call part of my chosen family, are so similar to me that I’ve actually told them on more than one occasion, to get out of my head. It was jokingly, but the thoughts are so incredibly akin to my own that they could have been my own.

This brings me to the reason I’m writing this week’s blog...

This time of year is one of the hardest for people to deal with, especially when they have a mental illness. A lot of people don’t have a family of origin to turn to, or they do but they’re ashamed or scared to reach out to them because of how much they’ve been ridiculed in the past.

The blogs that people are posting seem to be getting more and more desperate. I’m not getting replies from some of the people I talk to regularly and I want you all to know that you are loved; even if it’s only by one person.

I am part of your chosen family and I want you to know I have your back. I won’t be here 24/7 but I’ll be checking in on a daily basis and if you feel like you need someone to talk to, please reach out. Most of you have my cell number, but if you don’t, you can reach me through social media and we can set something up. If you live close enough, you can come and join in the festivities.

I’m not a professional but I’m a pretty good listener and I want you to remember that I’m always here if you need me. I also need you to know that if you’re feeling suicidal, you need to call your local crisis number (http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html) or get yourself to the nearest hospital.

This too, shall pass. You are worthy and you deserve to live.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

An Update On My Book. (approx. 5 min. read)

As most of you all know, I’m in the process of writing a book about PTSD, but it’s proving to be much more of a challenge than I thought.

It’s a really hard thing to do ...writing a book about yourself and how you’re dealing with a mental illness. It's absolutely gut wrenching to spill it out onto paper but a lot of healing comes about when you finally face your internal fears.

I completed my manuscript the end of July, 2016 and set out to find an editor. I had been approached by a couple of editors on twitter and decided to do some research and see if one of them would suit my needs.

I was looking for someone that would check for spelling and grammatical errors, and who could help me do some structural work. I wanted it to be publisher ready when I got it back.

I looked back through my DM’s on twitter, found the editors that had approached me and started some research. I read through their websites, researched the authors these particular editors had helped out, and decided on someone.

It was quite a lengthy process and it took about a week to find someone, but I did and I was so excited! I sent samples of my writing and the editor said that they really liked what they read. They also told me it was so raw and honest, but that it needed their thorough edit and critique combo. They recommended that particular package because they said my manuscript was overwritten and needed some trimming.

I agreed, sent them the full manuscript and half of the cost; which was $1000.00 usd ($1328.00 cdn). The editor had told me it would take seven weeks to complete. They would do the first edit, send it back to me so I could answer some questions, and then it would be returned at the end of the seven weeks “publisher ready.”

I could barely contain the exhilaration I felt and it was so hard to wait almost two months, but I did. In fact I waited quite a bit longer...

September 4, 2016 I received an email request for the final payment of $1000.00 usd ($1328.00 cdn) plus a copy of my manuscript for the first review. There were quite a few questions, and a small mix up on their end, but they had it back in their hands by September 14, 2016; just over two weeks before the final manuscript was promised to be ready.

One day after I was supposed to have the finished product in my hands, I got an email telling me that my book was going to be over two weeks late. There wasn’t much I could do and so I told myself the extra two weeks will make it that much better.

On October 15, I got my manuscript. I was so excited but terrified to open it, so I got Gary to read it for me. He didn’t get past the first page before finding an error, but when he told me he’d found an error I thought he was just teasing me ...but then he told me he found another ...and then another.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I was so disappointed that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide from the world. I had paid almost $3000.00 cdn; money that I really didn’t have and I wasn’t any closer to getting my book published than I was almost two months prior.

I finally mustered up the courage to call the editor but there’s no answer, so I sent an email. The response I got was that they were away until October 28th, 2016 and that they’d have a look at my manuscript then.

I was flabbergasted and responded with the fact my publisher was hounding me for the manuscript. The reply I got back was that I might want to find another publisher because the right publisher wouldn’t rush a manuscript.

Like I said - flabbergasted - especially when they told me that somehow they didn’t save the changes on my manuscript and I wouldn’t be getting it back until the end of November - two months after it was promised to me!

The end of November arrived and so did my manuscript, but to my disappointment I found a grammatical error on the third page and it was this: “I want to share how it with you.” I kept reading and found another grammatical error: the word plays instead of the word played. Then I found another sentence with another grammatical error:”...but they told me it I could either go to...”

Needless to say, my book isn’t ready and I have to tell you there’s a part of me that feels like giving up. It’s taken me so long to get to this point and I don’t have much faith in this editor. I also don’t have the money to send it to another one.

As you know, I don’t need this kind of STRESS!!! I’m already up to my friggin’ eyeballs in stress and this could set the healing of my CSR way behind. I just want to curl up in a ball and sob. I feel so dejected and defeated and I’m just not sure how to move forward.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following!

It’s that Time of Year! (approx. 1½ - 2 min. read)

This time last year, Gary and I were getting ready to head south for Christmas. We had had a particularly tough year; especially with the death of my brother and I just couldn’t be anywhere near my hometown.

Gary and I had talked about how we were going to get through Christmas in the months leading up to it and decided that even though it was the first time ever, we were going to bite the bullet and take off for the holidays.

Other than a little stress Christmas morning, it was amazing! We were up and at the airport before breakfast and instead of standing in the living room of people we only saw once or twice a year, by dinnertime we were standing in the ocean, toasting the day.

This year (2016) things are pretty much the same but we aren’t financially able to take off over the holidays, and I have to say the anxiety is sending me through the roof.

Christmas has been a source of drama and confusion for decades and I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel some sort of stress over it, and I need it to stop! Don’t get me wrong, I do have family that care. My problem is I seem to be stuck on what I can’t have, instead of being grateful for what I do have and that’s just not conducive to the life I want for myself.

Starting today, I’m going to focus on the people that matter; starting with me. I don’t care if you consider me the misfit! This Christmas and every other holiday following it, I’m going to surround myself with at least one person that loves me for who I am; I hope you’re going to do the same!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

Celebrating a Milestone! (approx. 5-6 min. read)

It’s been almost six months since my eyesight started to deteriorate and as you know, it’s been on my mind constantly. Ten days ago, when I woke up and I tried to write in my gratitude journal, the glasses that had worked the day before weren’t helping me to see what was on the page.

I got really frustrated and started to cry and when Gary asked me what was up, I snapped at him. I didn’t mean to but I was absolutely terrified that the CSR (Central Serous Retinopathy) was getting worse. Gary came over, put his arms around me and held me until I stopped crying.

This all happened on a Sunday, so we decided to wait and call the surgeon’s office first thing the next morning, instead of going to the emergency department right away. When I called, the receptionist listened patiently as I told her what was going on; then she asked me to hold.

When she came back on the line, the receptionist told me she’d talked to the surgeon who said she wanted to see me at her earliest possible appointment; which was eight days away.

I wasn’t sure I could wait that long and I spent the time stressed to the max! All I could think about was that I had stressed way too much and had permanently damaged my sight. I have to admit that I had more than one pity party.

What made it worse was the transportation service I’ve been approved to use while I’m having difficulty with my sight, could only drive me one way for the appointment. Although they told me to call everyday to see if that changed, it didn’t.

Imagine my frustration when each time I called back, all they did was reiterate that my appointment was booked for the busiest time of the day and why didn’t I book the appointment for a different time ...but that’s another blog!

Luckily the employer my husband worked for that day was flexible so Gary was able to drop me off.

When I got there, I grabbed a number and then hid myself behind the book I brought with me, and waited for them to call my number.  I was unable to read because all I could think about were my surroundings and all the strangers around me. The book was just a prop, but it enabled me to concentrate on my breathing without drawing attention to myself.

I sat and waited; desperate. All I wanted was to be put into a room alone. An interminable amount of time passes (it actually was only about 15 minutes) and I finally heard my number called out. I was led down a now familiar hallway and into a room by the surgeon’s assistant, Janet.

Janet gave me about four tissues, told me to tip my head backwards and proceeded to put three types of drops into both of my eyes. When she was done, we talked about what was happening with my sight. Then, Janet led me to a room where I had some pictures taken of my retinas using Optical Coherence Tomography.

First, the technician took an image of one retina and then the next; it was really fast and completely painless. When she was done, she told me to go and wait out in the hallway until the surgeon called me.

Not more than five minutes went by and the surgeon came out of room four and went into room five, but not before she told me to go into room four and wait for her there.

It wasn’t long before the surgeon was sitting in front of me, reiterating that my sight had gotten worse but it was because it was getting better. I can’t remember the exact words she used but what I heard was ‘the hole in my retina had closed up even more and because of this, the liquid that was leaking out of it had been pushed into the middle of my sight; making it appear like it was worse.’

I was so relieved! Tears of joy slid down my face, as the surgeon told me it wouldn’t be long before the CSR cleared up and that meant I’d be able to drive again soon.

Persistence, belief in myself and focusing on the positive like my gratitude journal, has definitely paid off! I’m being kind to my mind; taking mindful pauses of 30-45 seconds every couple of hours (or whenever needed) to ground myself, as well as getting out for nature walks.

And I’m happy ...heck, I’m ecstatic to say self-care and self-love has put me back on the right track and my sight is returning. That, undeniably, is a milestone to celebrate!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following!

Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone... (approx. 5-6 min. read)

This past weekend, I stepped out of my comfort zone and went to a workshop. It was recommended to me by a dear friend; Mandi J. Buckner (http://mjbuckner.ca).

Mandi is an accomplished return-to-work advocate and when she recommended the workshop to me, she also recommended it to another one of her friends. This other friend, whom I’m going to call Jennifer, is also a PTSD survivor and Mandi knew if we went together, we might actually follow through with it.

The short course started last Friday night and ran the full weekend, ending at 6:00pm on Sunday; it was called “Keeping the Love you Find.”

The course is based on work done by Dr. Harville Hendrix and was presented by Susan McBride and Dr. Mark Cornfield. It deals with past issues you may have as well as any issues you’re hanging on to from past relationships, that can get in the way when you are trying to become part of a committed relationship. Or in my case - making sure I stay in a committed relationship.

The theory is based on the fact that when we fall in love, we’re unconsciously drawn to someone with the best and worst character traits of our combined caregivers. Dr. Harville Hendrix calls these traits our “Imago,” which is the latin word for image and it refers to the “unconscious image of familiar love.”

If I’m getting it right, it means we’re drawn to certain people so that we can work through and heal the pain we derived from our caregivers, based on an unconscious desire to seek healing and leave the pain of childhood behind. Furthermore, when you can understand your reactions and feelings more emphatically, you can move into a much better place ...a place that isn’t overshadowed by the things that happened to you as a child.

One of the exercises we did, and we did a lot of them, came Sunday near the end of the day. The exercise was being given the opportunity to sit in the middle of our circle and have all the other participants tell us something we needed to hear; something we had never heard as a child.

I watched a couple of people go before me and witnessed them turn into puddles as they heard affirmations they’d been waiting their whole lives to hear. Tears trickled down my face as I thought about what I wanted to hear and I knew I would end up doing what Oprah calls the “ugly cry.”

Mark looked at me empathetically and I mumbled under my breath that I couldn’t do it. I said they’d (meaning everyone in the group), already had the opportunity to see me do the ugly cry and that I just couldn’t do it, so he looked away.

After a couple of minutes, Mark turned back to me and said, “Sometimes crying is what we need.” I thought about it for a couple more minutes and decided that I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. What harm could it do? So, I jumped up before I had the chance to change my mind.

I put myself in the chair, turned to face Mark and said “I need to hear you say - ‘Davina, you are worthy and you deserve to live’.” Mark said “Davina, you are worthy and you deserve to live.” I moved my chair slightly so that I was facing the next person, which was Susan and she repeated it - “Davina you are worthy and you deserve to live.” Then I turned my chair slightly so it faced the next person and then the next person and they all repeated those same words; “Davina, you are worthy and you deserve to live.”

I got part way around the first time and the tears started to fall, but I continued and went onto the next person and then the next person. Each one of them said “Davina, you are worthy and you deserve to live,” and they said it with conviction and sincerity.

I completed going around the circle and once again found myself sitting facing Mark. Tears were streaming down my face and I felt like my chest was going to burst.

He looked back at me with such compassion and I decided I needed to hear it again, so I asked him to repeat it. I continued around that circle like I had the first time and by the time I really started to believe what they were saying, I had been around the circle three times.

I had this incredible epiphany - that everything I’d done to that point in my life, I had done feeling like I was unworthy and the sadness of that had me completely sobbing by the time I got up from the chair.

I know it might sound silly because deep down inside I already knew it, but I needed to hear it and who better than these people I’d just bared my soul.

Going forward, I’ve made myself some goals and I’m going to stay in touch with as many of those people that are willing; in order to keep myself accountable. I also enrolled Gary and I in the Imago relationship workshop so that we can improve on our communication skills and keep the love we’ve found!

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

References:

http://www.susanmcbride.ca/

http://imagorelationships.org/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imago_therapy

A Lot is Going on... (approx. 2 min. read)

I know I mentioned in my last blog that my sight was improving, but it was short lived...

I’ve been increasing the strength of my reading glasses since June; and I went from 1.25’s to 2.75’s. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been finding myself reaching for my husband’s which are 3.00’s.

A lot is going on but there’s always something going on...

I think one of the things that’s really getting me, is that our house went up for sale yesterday. Although making the choice to sell has been a long process, my husband (Gary) and I believe it’s the right choice.

Gary has been trying to find full-time employment since the company he dedicated almost 30 years to, decided to pension him off. He hasn’t been having much luck finding anything that pays well except for real physical work.

Needless to say, we’ve come to the decision to sell and move to a province where we can actually afford to live on our pensions. It was a tough decision to make because not only do we love our house, I haven’t lived any further than 60 kilometres from my girls since they were born.

Up until recently, I always thought I needed to be close to my daughters and that they needed to be close to me. I believed that if I moved away and was unable to see them regularly, they would think I didn’t love or care about them.  I’ve recently realized those thoughts are based on my insecurities and not theirs.

My daughters are married and have families of their own and they are doing an amazing job of raising their families without having me live in their back pockets.

Another thing that’s making me stress is the tenant we took on when we thought Gary had found a job. She didn’t ask for any of this to happen. Though the new home-owners will probably keep her on, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that they might not and she’ll only have 30 days to vacate.

It seems I’m more worried about the fact that it’s come down to the tenant and us; and I’m feeling forced into choosing us.

...I know it sounds ludicrous, but I’m honestly more stressed out about upsetting the tenant than I am upsetting myself. It reminds me how much farther I have to go on the road to self-preservation.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following. 

How Chronic Stress Can Affect Your Sight. (approx. 2-3 min. read)

In between writing my blogs about traveling with cannabis, I had my first appointment with the eye surgeon and thought I’d write this week’s blog about CSR - Central Serous Retinopathy and what was going on with my sight.

The first blog I wrote about CSR was back in June of this year; when I was first diagnosed but I had no idea the diagnosis was going to obsess almost every thought of every day in the months following.

CSR is a recurring condition in which fluid accumulates in the central region of the macula and if recovery is prolonged, damage to the retina can occur. They aren’t sure what causes it, but one of the known triggers for this disease is an elevated stress level, and it may result in mild to moderate vision loss.

Knowing this only makes the disease harder to deal with because the more you stress, the more damage can occur and knowing that only made me stress more.

And I’m sure you’re wondering why I don’t just stop thinking about it, but it’s extremely difficult. Every time I look at anything; whether it’s the letters of a word in a book, a computer or television screen or when I’m out on a nature walk - I’m reminded of just how much my eye sight has deteriorated because of this disease.

At the worst part of my disease my eye-sight deteriorated to 20/60, so everything I looked at was blurry; whether it was up close or far away. And it was easy to fix the far-sightedness by just upping my readers from 125’s to 300’s, but there was no way to fix the near-sightedness because it was and still is changing so much.

The good news ...my retina is starting to repair itself and my eye-sight is in between 20/60 and 20/40! The surgeon said it can take up to 14 weeks to close (on average) and we’re past that by almost a month, but it is closing and that is fantastic news!

I’ve been crying happy tears on and off since my appointment and now when I look through these blurry eyes, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. The light is faint but it’s getting stronger with each day.

And I have to say I’m incredibly proud of myself because not only was I able to get through the stress of eliminating the nay-sayers, I really believe I'm coming out the other side stronger than ever!

Sure my condition is chronic, and the surgeon has told me she will be ‘following’ me for the rest of my life, but with her help and the elimination of the toxicity that used to be a part of my life - I will be able to keep this condition under control and keep my eye-sight.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following. 

Wondering How I Got Through Security? (approx. 5-6 min. read)

For those of you that have been waiting, here is the follow-up story to “Travelling with Cannabis as my only Companion"...

The morning was pretty uneventful except for the fact that I packed the same way I did before we left for Jamaica at Christmas of last year and I couldn’t get my suitcase done up!

Gary heard me struggling with the zipper, so he came down the hallway to see what I was up to. He looked at the suitcase and then at me and teasingly said, “You know you’re only going for 4 days, right?”

I looked up at him and he gave me the little smirk he uses for occasions like this, when he’s trying to bring my anxiety level down a couple of notches. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him and we hugged; he made everything okay in my world.

We arrived at the airport 2 1/2 hours ahead of my flight and parked the car. Gary and I both thought he’d be able to come with me to speak with the police but we were mistaken. The next thing I knew, he was standing with his hands on my shoulders telling me I was going to be just fine. The tears started almost immediately and I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this.

I started to panic and he could see it in my eyes, so he hugged me and told me how proud he was that I was doing this. As he held me, he reiterated how strong I was and how happy my nephew would be to see me. Then the next thing I knew was that Gary was handing me my carry on and we were walking away from each other.

I had eaten a half a gram of cannabis just before we got out of the car and for the most part I was pretty calm, but then all of a sudden I was standing in front of a 'screening officer.' I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out at first but then I heard myself say “I’m travelling with medical marijuana.”

At first she looked at me like I’d destroyed her day, but then she turned and walked over to where the bins were and grabbed two more. I wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the extra bins and watched her as she took one bin, placed it before my stuff and then took the other bin and placed it after my stuff. She looked at me again and said “It really smells," and this is when I apologized and started to tear up.

(As I’m recalling it and writing it down, I’m having an anxiety attack - lol - but back to my story!)

She looked at me sympathetically this time and said it was okay, that lots of people travelled with cannabis now and she was only following protocol. She told me to wait where I was and went down to the end of the line and spoke to another one of the 'screening officers.'

Next thing I knew, they were ushering me through the metal detector and then patting me down; first my front and sides, then my back and sides, and then the bottom of my shoes. Here, in front of 200 people, I am standing with my hands straight out to the sides being searched and there were people all around me, looking at me like I was a criminal; at least it felt that way.

The 'screening officer' finished patting me down and asked me to go to the end of the security line and wait there. From where I was standing, I could see there were a few guards waiting for me, as well as the manager of security. Before I knew what was happening, he was shaking my hand, giving me a business card and telling me they would like to hear about my experience.

There were people everywhere and it was all I could do to keep myself grounded. Sweat started to come out of every pour of my being, so I took out my fan and started fanning myself. Two police officers were making their way through the crowd and I watched them closely until they ended up standing a foot away to my left.

They were talking to each other and eyeing the crowd to see where the “user” was standing. The cop directly to my left, looked at me, smiled and then continued to scan the crowd.

I put my hand out to them and said I think you’re looking for me? The officer that had just smiled at me said “Usually when people see us coming, they run in the other direction. It’s quite rare for them to give themselves up willingly,” and they both chuckled.

Their demeanor was enough to break the ice and stop the tears that had been welling in my eyes from dropping. I’ve always been one to use humour in times of need and here it was, working for me again. The officers were smiling and reassuring me that everything was okay and not long after, I was sitting in an airport restaurant, drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and writing this.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

P.S. To the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority (CATSA) and Peel Regional Police - thank you so much for your professionalism and compassion; I won’t forget it. 

Missing Someone... (approx. 2 min. read)

I'm sorry this is late but I didn't get home until quite late last night and I was feeling a little under the weather ...and I know you're probably expecting to hear the sequel to my trip, but I wrote this week's blog before I left and it's honestly more important to me.

Since I started talking about mental illness and sharing my story, quite a few people have turned their backs on me. For the most part, I’m totally okay with it because most of them never had my back anyway but there is one person that I miss every single day; we’ll call her Rose.

Rose is part of my family of origin and before I started telling the truth about my past and my life, we talked to each other almost every day. Whether she called me or I called her, we talked on a regular basis and for the most part it was just about mundane things but it was a connection.

It’s been 364 days, and just under 12 hours since I had a response to any of my messages, or a phone call from Rose ...but who’s counting?!

I miss her laughter, her smile and the way she used to enter a room; jumping through the doorway, arms spread wide, making sure no one missed her entrance. I also miss the little people Rose brought into this world and often wonder if they ever think of me or realize how much I miss them.

I tried to speak to Rose after our falling out but she would have none of it and blocked me on social media. Unfortunately, most of the contact I’ve had from her in the last year have been some texts telling me to leave her family alone. There was also a derogatory comment she left on my website which I chose to ignore because I honestly don’t think she meant what she said.

I believe there are outside influences keeping Rose from me but I trust that once she finds out the truth, she will become stronger and realize she doesn’t have to choose sides.

I love Rose unconditionally and I would never set any kind of limits or boundaries on that love. I hope in time she will realize that my love for her, no matter what she says or does, is unconditional.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following!

Travelling with Cannabis as My Only Companion. (approx. 2½ min. read)

You think I’d had enough of putting myself in situations that scare the crap out of me but apparently not; I’m throwing myself under a bus, or should I say into a plane this coming Sunday.

I barely leave the house and here I am booked on a flight to New Brunswick - by myself! And I’m sure you’re wondering what the heck I’m thinking because I am!

I do this all the time; book things that “normal” people can do thinking that if I just buck up I can do them. Now here we are less than a week away and I’m starting to poop my pants - lol!

My oldest nephew got offered a job working a lobster boat by an old friend of his father’s and after not being able to find a full time job in Ontario, he jumped at the chance to move down East. He lost both his parents; his Mom when he was five and his Dad last year, and he’s been like one of my own.

Hence, the reason I’m throwing myself into a situation that is anxiety and thought provoking all at the same time, but I want to make sure he’s settled in before the weather changes. Sure, I’ll have my medical cannabis with me, but after making some calls, I’m thinking it’s just going to bring a whole lot of attention to me; someone that wishes they were able to wear an invisibility cloak.

A friend suggested I call the airport to find out what to expect when I get there; that I don’t spend too much time catastrophizing about it between now and then. Which I did, and they told me to go straight to airport security as soon as I “set foot” in the airport. They told me not to delay because if airport security catches me with an illegal substance before I’ve had a chance to tell them I have it, I could be detained ...or worse yet, put in jail.

Once I’ve found and spoken to airport security, they (airport security) will escort me to the police that work within the airport. There I will be questioned, asked to produce my medical marijuana documents and I’ve been told they may even want to check my prescription to make sure I’m not carrying more than I’m allowed. I’ve also been told they may want to search my bags and my person, so I need to be there a half hour earlier than the airline requires me to be, otherwise I might miss my flight.

Needless to say I’m nervous and I have visions of being strip searched and missing my flight, but that’s the catastrophizing that tries so vehemently to become part of my everyday life.

If I look hard enough there’s a positive note ...if the police detain me long enough, I won’t have to sit out in the open with all those strangers and they’ll escort me right onto the plane.

Plus all this stress around getting through the airport without getting arrested is helping me to keep my mind off the fact that I’m afraid of flying and Gary won’t be there to talk me down or hold my hand. 

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.

You Ever Have a Pity Party? (approx. 2½ min. read)

I think I’ve been having a bit of a pity party... and don’t get me wrong, there isn’t anything wrong with having a pity party. It’s the length of time I’ve been spending at that party that matters.

And I know there are always going to be curve balls; its how we deal with them that help us to move forward in life, instead of continually getting knocked down.

Dysfunctional families, health issues, moving, being fired from a job you love, the break-up of a relationship, or worse yet, a death in the family; these are all things that throw a curve into our lives and have most people heading on over to a pity party.

Like I said, we need the time to get used to new ideas or changes in our lives and its okay to feel sorry for ourselves when life gets us down. Take the time to grieve, cry and get used to the change - whatever that change is. However try not to spend too much time being negative because what we put out; good or bad; positive or negative, we attract - especially energy.

What I find works for me (most of the time), is to look at the change; break it down and figure out the best way to get through it. I make a list of the pros and cons as to why I’m having an issue with this particular curve, so that I can make an informed decision.

I know some of you are saying that those lists don’t work because they fall short, but I find that if I rate each pro/con as to its importance on a scale with one being the lowest, they almost always help. Besides, there is a lot of research that claims when you write down your thoughts or ideas, it helps to make you see them more clearly and I would have to agree.

What also works is to cry, and then cry some more. Crying not only serves an emotional purpose by releasing pent up energy, it may also have a biochemical purpose. That purpose is to release the stress hormones and toxins that build up in our bodies over time; excreting those toxins in our tears - crying.

Then ...I work on moving forward.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following. 

References:

http://www.webmd.com/balance/features/why-we-cry-the-truth-about-tearing-up?page=2

http://www.nytimes.com/1982/08/31/science/biological-role-of-emotional-tears-emerges-through-recent-studies.html

http://www.tutorialgeek.net/2013/06/how-to-make-effective-pro-and-con-list.html