PTSD (Day 15)

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to bend over. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to bend over and take it like a man. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to shut the fuck up and take it, and remember who owned this school. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to sit quietly in this room until my departure. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to hand over my uniform. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

The first was a toolshed. The second was a principal's office. The third was the back hall of a gymnasium. The fourth was a parsonage. The fifth was a church. The central theme of men controlling the situation and determining justice based upon their own agenda, all underneath the watchful gaze of the cross should have been enough to turn anyone away from God altogether. Or, at the very least, cause the symbol of the cross to be a hated one.

But one day I sat down with a pastor and shared this story with him. I told him that I had been clinically diagnosed with PTSD, and that my doctor had said it was given to me by the church. The pastor put his hand up and said "I would change that from the church to a church." 

 

Perhaps so. 

Some people might read those opening sentences with the recurring theme and use the quote "If wherever you go there's a problem, guess what?", insinuating that I am the problem. However, I can absolutely testify to the fact that more harm has been done by men acting under their supposed "authority from God" than by people wanting nothing to do with that authority. 

 

The majority of people who used to follow me on Facebook when I was a good little conservative republican Southern Baptist have either unfollowed me, or unfriended me. That's fine. They are probably seeing me as one of the people God refers to in I Timothy 4:1, when actually, I love God more than I think I ever have in my life. I just detest our so-called president, (who was impeached) which sadly, many of them think is God's angelic messenger--even comparing him to Jesus.

Jesus would be nauseated by that, and probably is. But I digress.

PTSD has been the catalyst in my life for the most good, and the most bad. For example, I deal with generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, major depressive disorder, and PTSD. But the three former have only made me twitchy and annoyed and sad from day to day. PTSD has made me contemplate suicide. I've attempted 4 times in my life, and contemplated dozens of times. But it has also given me a purpose: To find others who deal with the same thing, and uplift them with both Christian and/or secular encouragement. 

For those who say "Christian counseling is the only counseling you need.", again, let me respectfully disagree. As an example, I went to a counselor for weeks who had a cross on his wall, and the only thing I came away with was "pray more and the PTSD will be less". That's some first class textbook advice, let me tell you. It's about as worthwhile as telling a stage 4 cancer patient that if they will just pray more, God will heal them. 

 

Spoiler alert: God never promised he would heal our bodies. Jesus only said "Thy Will be done."

However, one day, I went out for dinner with former co-workers and something huge happened. I was sitting at the table in this crowded restaurant with my friends around me, and I got a sudden cramp in my leg. I quickly pushed my chair back to straighten my leg, and I inadvertently collided with the back of another chair at the table behind me. I turned, and to my horror, there was a little girl in the chair who looked terrified of what had just occurred. I apologized to her profusely, and then looked at her father and apologized to him over and over also. You could see the look on their faces of "Look, we don't know you. You scared our little girl. Kindly go back to your dinner and leave us the hell alone. This is awkward and you are upsetting us with your apologies."

I saw there was an empty chair at the end of our table, off to itself. I picked up my stuff and moved to that chair so I wouldn't accidently bump the little girl again. I love children more than anything in the world, and the idea of upsetting one mentally destroys me. As I sat down, one of my coworkers looked at me and said "Why did you move?" I told her I didn't want to risk making the situation at the other table worse. She smiled, put her hand on my shoulder, and said "You aren't going to make it worse. It's over now. They've probably forgotten all about it. Your anxiety is causing this. You love kids, and your depression and anxiety is making you relive it over and over. You're reliving it right now, aren't you?"

I nearly broke down. This woman without any type of psychology degree or medical licensing did more for me in that one moment than weeks of counseling by a person with a diploma on one wall and a cross on the other. Because she understood.

More harm has been done underneath emblems and symbols than we can ever know. Sometimes, the greatest encouragement comes from the chair next to you, rather than the chair across from you.

To be continued.

Living With Mental Illness (Day 14)

I often find memes that sum up so perfectly the things that I deal with in life. Some are quite amusing, like the one below:

Ladies and gentleman, that one right there is not just a daily thing, it's a moment by moment thing. Like right now, I am not particularly worried about anything, but if I think for a moment, I will come up with something. Like that customer I worked with the other day. As they were leaving, they kind of gave me a weird vibe like they were not sure what to think about me. Maybe they didn't like me...maybe they thought I was creepy...maybe I was too nice to them and they think I'm a freak...maybe I said something wrong and now they will tell everyone they know about the creepy photographer....OMG this is horrible!!

I could worry about that for the next hour, but I have stuff to do.

Several very nice people have pointed out that some people may not read my blog entries because they are too long, or too disorganized. I should stick to the point and be real and raw with it. As for too long, if you can scroll Facebook for an hour with no problem, too long isn't an issue.

You make time for the things that matter to you.

Do with that as you will.

As for organized, I can try to do that. So here we go.

Yesterday in church our pastor said that we should come to God in our times of distress, and when we do, to make sure we are REAL with God. Don't mince words or think we have to be proper or hide our anger and frustration. If you need to tell God "You know what? You FUCKING PISS ME OFF, God!" then do so. God welcomes our raw emotions, and much prefers them to us trying to hide our feelings behind propriety and pride.

Today I saw a tweet/meme that hit me so hard I had to take a moment to fully process it and appreciate it for it's succint summary of my life. It's so accurate I almost want a t-shirt with this tweet on it.

You ready for this?

My friends....

Holy. FFFFCRAP.

I remember once being in a meeting that had been called by a few people regarding a position I held, and after being told I was being removed from that position, I was told by one of the men "Daniel I don't think you intentionally do things that make people uncomfortable, I think you are just misunderstood."

I've heard that line so many times before in regard to me. "I think you are just misunderstood." It's usually followed by (or preceded by) my being fired, dismissed, removed, ostracized, swept under the rug, or put away quietly. What they really mean by that statement is "I'm sure you don't see anything wrong with what you did/said, but the rest of the normal world doesn't understand it, so...yeah."

But here's the thing. Here's the hell of it. Here's the absolute soul-sucking, maddening, terrifying, damning reality that I deal with every day:

I know when I am about to do these things.

Yep. I see myself about to do the thing(s) that I know in the past has gotten me in trouble, gotten me ousted from a group or a position, or made a customer/friend/church family member suspect that something isn't right with me, and I do it anyway.

And that person will find it's easier to just avoid me rather than say "Daniel, what you did/said the other day made me uncomfortable."

But, you know, because I'm an empath, it wouldn't matter which one they did. If they avoid me without telling me what I did wrong, I will wonder forever what the horrible thing was that I did to them to make them do that. However, if they come out and tell me I hurt them/creeped them out, I will hate myself for it, and probably try to FIX what I did by offering to do whatever I need to do TO fix it, when actually, they just want me to leave them alone now. Which makes it even worse, because if they want me to leave them alone, I must have done something TRULY horrible, and that makes me question whether or not I am even WORTH dealing with as a person, and maybe the world would be better off if I wasn't even here....

Whew. Ok. Back to the point.

When your car hits a patch of water and you hydroplane, you have this horrible feeling of SEEING your complete loss of control and watching it happen while you sit helplessly trying to turn a steering wheel that isn't doing anything.

That's what this is like. You are aware of your self-destructive behavior. You see it about to happen. You remember what happened the last time you did/said this. Your brain (for a microsecond) says "Don't do it!" but then the other 90% of your brain, the part that isn't wired correctly, says "I should do it, because that's what I do, or it's what I want to do, or it will make me feel like I have a purpose, and maybe they will be happy with it, and maybe they will actually like me for it, and maybe it will make their day, or maybe it will make them laugh, or maybe it will make them smile, and it will make me feel like today isn't just another day where I feel like an human anomoly...

And so I do the thing.

And the person avoids me the next time they see me. (Or avoids me after the 10th time I've done it.)

So yeah.

If you happen to be one of those people who was the victim of my awkward...

Sorry about that.

Just wanted to post it again for emphasis.

Also, and this is crucial, here is something I need to put out there. In fact, it's so important that I am going to make a graphic so you can save it and share it if you like.

I think I'm not going to write any more for a while.

My brain is tired.

Depression (Day 12)

This blog post will be painfully short. Mainly because it's emphasis is going to be placed on just one thing.

Adjusting to new medications when you deal with mental illness is hard. Those of you who deal with this know this.

As adults, if we have a chronic condition like IBS or Fibromyalgia or Diabetes, and we have to change medications, we say to ourselves "This is gonna suck, but I'm an adult, and I've gotta deal with it." Maybe we will have to fight with constipation, insomnia, dry mouth, or other physical annoyances. As adults, we accept that, and move forward.

People with mental illness deal with a second blow when we are adjusting to new medications. Specifically, ones that target the mental illness itself. When we make the medication change, we often have no idea how our mind is going to respond to it. Will we have vivid hallucinations? Will suicidal thoughts creep in? Will we become hyper-OCD? Will our world become a roller-coaster of highs and lows that rival the most manic of bipolar episodes? Will everything be ok again? We have no idea.

Today I am adjusting to new medication. I'm very twitchy and spazzy today. It's also making me hyper-aware of every tiny little thing around me. I startle like I've heard a gunshot every time an acorn hits our tin roof.

And there are a lot of acorns.

Here is my point: If you know someone who deals with mental illness, and they happen to share with you that they are adjusting to new medications, please, for the love of all that is decent and holy, EMPATHIZE with them. Give them an extra measure of understanding that day, or week. We need it more than you can understand.

For those who deal with mental illness, I'm also giving a shout-out to you. You know what this @#$%^& is like.



via GIPHY

Franceska

Prom night is my busiest day of the year as a high school senior portrait photographer. I usually have at least 12 customers that day, and because of the time constraints imposed by the student's needs, as well as the number of students I have to work in, it's usually a nightmare. There is no time on prom night to be overly creative, or give special attention to this person or that person, although I do try my best.

Two years ago, Franceska Blanding booked me for her prom portraits. On prom night, photographers are often seen as "He's booked? Okay, call the next person.". In short, we aren't very special. So when Franceska called me again the following year, it really made me smile. She'd already had senior portraits taken by another photographer by then, but she was so sweet and so kind that I asked her if maybe after she graduated we could do some pictures just for fun. She said she liked that idea.

After graduation, Franceska wanted more senior portraits than she got in her senior year, and as I had wanted to do hers anyway but missed the chance, I was excited for this! We met, had a great time taking photos in the fall colors, and as she was getting ready to leave, I asked her if we could stay in touch, and maybe do more one day. I told her that often, white students flock to white photographers, and black students to black photographers. It's just how it is. I wanted more "color" in my portfolio, and she said she'd love to help with that.

I put out my hand, she took it, and we shook hands. Then I said "Don't forget me, ok? I promise not to forget you." she smiled and said enthusiastically "I won't! I promise!" Just for a happy thing, I put out my pinky finger, and she smiled again and locked hers with mine. "Pinky promise." we said.

When we locked pinkies, for a moment I looked down at our hands. The contrast of colors of mine and her fingers interlocked was something I had not taken notice of when I had shaken hands with countless people over the years, but this time, I had a moment of "Wow." Just 55 years ago, this moment would have been quite different. Our handshake would have been a forbidden act in the eyes of many; even more so the hug I got before she got into her car.

This beautiful person, with a sweet spirit and kindness that shines outwardly from her heart would have been maginalized by the world around her, even though hers is kind of friendship most people aren't even ready for. Today, I am thankful for her. Thankful that I've made a friend for life. And I'm thankful for the people around me who understand and will appreciate what I'm writing in this post.

Today is a good day. :)