New Year's Resolution Starts NOW

Holy Crap.... I am totally stepping out and putting it all out there [here?] I cannot wait until January 1st to start taking healthy measures. It never works when I try to change/start something on that day anyway. Honestly---does it for you? Probably not.

Example:

Last December 14 I quit smoking. I never intended to quit that day. I planned to stop "one day"...but never set a target date. I knew I wanted to do it before my grandson, Emery, was born. He was due the end of December. He was born January 1, 2009. So I guess in a way I can say he was my New Year's Resolution.

I was in the hospital, and it was bitter, frigidly cold last winter. I was sneaking out to puff with my IV pole in tow. People were staring at me because I was only wearing my hospital issue socks, and had a blanket tossed over my shoulders, and hospital gown. Pathetic picture now that I think about it. I was sicker than a dog, and the urge to smoke was so huge I risked getting sicker to have a cigarette.

The week before I went into the hospital, I told Superman I wished I could just go somewhere, like spa or retreat where no one smoked so I could have a few days to detox from cigarettes. I can't say a hospital stay was exactly what I had planned but it certainly presented itself to me in the exact way I needed to have a smoke free environment to stop. I tossed my pack, and lighter in the trash in the hospital lobby and hobbled, practically frost bitten back to my room. I asked the nurse for a Nicotine patch. My prayer was answered any way you look at it... For that, I'm eternally grateful.

I can't say it's been easy but it's been worth it. I was able to greet my grandson into the world smoke free and with no second hand smoke at my home or third hand smoke on my clothes, fingers or breath. I still think about a cigarette, and admit I've stared at some good looking butts lying on the sidewalk with lust and hunger. Sick... I know but it is an addiction that doesn't respect any boundaries or borders you place on it. I may always have to do battle with this villain. That's OK. My health, and my family is worth it.

So Here's The Skinny

I have put on 30 pounds since the auto accident May 4, 2008. I was 10 lbs over my goal weight then. Now I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself because I've had 2 surgeries this past year, quit smoking, and have been battling some major battles with PTSD. But something has to stop [or start] before I find myself on the other side of 200 pounds. I'm not too far from that now.

Oh crap... double crap...crap crappity crap... Here it comes. Oh crap.... I weigh... oh may I please say crap again??? OK thanks. CRAP!

I weigh 191 frapping, fluffy pounds! I can flat out tell you my driver's license doesn't say that! I had my license renewed recently and asked the lady behind the counter if I could be arrested for "fudging" the weight question. She said if that were the case we'd all be in jail.... whew.

So I joined the Joy Fit Club today, and I am going to work to bring some good things to my life, and my future. My health is key to any permanent gift I could give myself. So if any of you'd like to join me in making some healthy goals for yourself, please join me. I'm listed under Woodstock Lily. I have nothing to hide, and need the accountability.

I'll be vlogging so you can see me "waist" away. BTW I measured my waist today, too. That shrill scream heard from coast to coast was me... Poor Opie Taylor. He pooped on the rug because I screamed so loud! [I lied... he just ran out of the room like he'd been scalded] My waist measures [can I lie here???? puleeeezzzeeeeee!] Crap, crap, crappity crapolla!

40 inches That's just wrong!
Who's body is this anyway????

Ummmm Opie didn't raise his paw on that question... so it must be my lily-livered, shaking hand weakly rising to the occasion....

OK I feel lighter just getting that off my chest. I need to eat well. Exercise. And love me back to wholeness. I want to invest in the whole package, my mind, my body, and my spirit. I haven't come this far, baby, to not be the best I can be all around. My grandson needs his "Birdie" to be able to fly, flit and be fit.

I'll update my progress weekly. There's a little gadget on my side bar with a frog under the lily pads that will also let you see how I'm doing.

So ready.... set.... go! I'm officially on my way! Carpe Diem! [ya'll thought I was going to say Crapie Diem....didn't ya???]

A Magic Capsule

I may have found a miracle in a capsule. I'm in disbelief that it may really be possible. I've secretly, and openly said, "Wow, wouldn't it be great if a pill could fix this or that?" Who doesn't want to "take a pill" to make it all better? Especially if you've been dealing with chronic pain, emotionally or physically, for a long time. I'm learning from Dr. Ed that either type of pain directly effects the other.

I also just learned that the pain I've been having in my abdomen may be due to scar tissue forming from the blunt force trauma from the accident. Apparently some people's bodies make more scar tissue than others. It looks like I'm one of "those peeps" with scar tissue built up not only in my mind, but in my body as well.

I've been in serious denial that I hurt nearly 24/7. I didn't want to give it "life" by admitting that fact. But the truth is; my guts feel like they've been attacked by a shark, chewed up, and then spit out. I'm left with the bruised, and battered pieces as my pipes for digestion. In denying these feelings to myself, I've neglected the fact that I need some real medical attention. I had some damage done by a surgeon in the early 90's to my body that has caused me lots of pain and suffering through the years--so I've put off getting help. I'm afraid of surrendering another piece of my flesh to people who are "practicing medicine". Denial doesn't make things go away. Imagine that?!

I couldn't take the pain any longer so I made an appointment this last week with a doctor that came with the highest recommendations in the G.I field. When he walked into the examining room, I immediately felt a sense of hope, and calmness. It felt like I was in a safe place just like it did when I walked into see Dr. Ed, my new PTSD specialist, for the first time.

After examining me, he told me he thinks the scar tissue in my body may be twisting and tweaking my intestines, and other organs. This may have caused a blockage somewhere and it may require surgery. We'll know more after he gets the blood work back, and the next round of tests scheduled for next Wednesday. [I'm gonna be lit up on the inside like a Christmas tree...]

He told me there will be nothing easy about what we need to do, and asked me if I understood that. Weird thing in hearing him say "this will not be an easy fix" is that it made me feel better. Why is that????? Because it's the truth, and I needed to hear that. There is freedom in truth. Dr. Ed is helping me see that. This is huge!

The doc then prescribed a new medication, Kapidex, for me to try. It seems to be working. None of the other meds I've been prescribed have worked. For the first time in a year and a half, a "PILL" has drastically reduced the pain in my stomach. I keep touching, and poking myself as if I'm in a dream!

My next adventure will be seeking out a magic pill to take off the 30 + pounds I've gained since the accident. That was the "real" shocker of the day getting on that dreaded scale but I have a feeling having more energy will be a key in changing this, too. Chronic pain, emotional or physical, can drain the life right out of you.

I have another feeling my Sassy Pants
are about to become
my underwear of choice
underneath my Monkey Pantz!

It's amazing what having a little relief can do for a girl's "tude"!

****Just for the record, I'm not in any way shape or form saying Kapidex or any pill is magical or will be the pill for you. I'm just stating what seems to be working for me at this point in time in my life. You should work with your doctor to find what works best for you.****

Thaw T Full Things

Dear Friends, and Family,

I'm genuinely thankful for each one of you. I started my blog a little over 7 months ago, and I'm amazed at how much has happened in such a small measure of time. I've learned blogging is way more fun and educational than TV. Far more dramatic than soap operas, and far funnier than sitcoms. I had no idea such a wonderful world existed until I met all of you. Thank you for opening my eyes to such a wonderful world at my fingertips. I'm thankful, and grateful, for each one of you.

• Be safe.
  
• Hug your family and your friends.
  
• Feed your faces, and watch some football.
  
• Tell someone you are thankful to have them in your life.
• Wear some comfy cloths on Thursday.
• If the pie crust gets too burnt... it's not the end of the world.
• Take a moment to remember how fortunate you are to be alive.
• Pull out the Christmas lights, and trim the tree.
• Be respectful others who do not celebrate the same holidays in the same way you do.
• If you've lost your gusto for the holidays, try to see it through the eyes of a child. Borrow one if you don't have one, and make some precious memories together.
• Take a nap if you want to on Thursday. Or take two.
  
• Don't feel guilty if you are not up to fighting the masses on Black Friday unless you really enjoy it.
  
• Be thankful you can shop without ever leaving the comforts of your home.
• Make something homemade to give this season.
  
• Say yes to whipped cream. YES, yes, Yes!
  
• Say thank you when the left turn lane is long, and moving slow. It could be a blessing disguised as a delay.
• Send all your unwanted fruitcakes to me. I actually love them.
• Take your unused coats to a homeless shelter or church.
  
• This is one way the pilgrims used pumpkins. BIG YUM
  
• Be thankful you were not the person who received the call at the Butterball Turkey Hotline from a woman wondering if it was OK to bathe her kids at the same time in the tub with the turkey thawing... true story.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone

International Overall Day

Who izzzz that girl under the lampshade???

It'zzzzz
A girl wearing her monkey pantzzzzz

Overalls are sassy....

sassy, sassy, sassy

Opie Taylor haz hiz Monkey Pantz on, too

Close up of my bibs

Therapy Isn't For Wimps

Some people balk at getting help for emotional things. It's easier to put on a thick skin, suck it up, and bury the buggers. I'm learning I have done this, too. This shocks me because I've always been a seeker; looking for answers, looking for help when I need it, looking for wisdom, for knowledge, for hope, and like many of us... I've looked for love. Nope I'm not going to belt out that old song, "looking for love in all the wrong places... but I am beginning to learn a valuable lesson about self love. I'd always thought I had a great deal of self love but I'm discovering there are parts of me I haven't been too loving about.

Many of you know I recently began treatment for my PTSD with a specialist. I'll tell you... PTSD has stumped me. It tossed me off another bridge in my mind, and has taunted me relentlessly about my ability to just shrug the auto accident off, and move on. Plus at times since the accident I've felt judged by people in my life who don't understand why I'm making such a "big deal" out of this. I can sense it in their body language, or how I might perceive [imagined or not] if someone rolls their eyes at me. "Just get on the freeway and start driving again." Well at small times I can do that. But they are really, really few and far between. Most of the time, I prefer not to even leave the house.

But you know who has been my biggest enemy? [And it's not the psychiatrist that booted me out of his office a few weeks ago after bragging to me about getting in a car 5 minutes after his auto accident, and driving off with no problems.] IT'S Me!! I am my own worst enemy. I'm the one who has told me over, and over, to toughen up. You should be better by now! What's wrong with you?? It's been 1.5 years! You've been through worse! Get a grip! There are people out there who've been through a whole lot worse things than you, and they're getting on with their lives! Wimp! Loser! Big baby!

I've been extremely hard on myself because prior to to this I've always been able to get myself unstuck. I forced myself a few months after the accident to go on with my life, and my career. Mind you my job involved a tremendous amount of driving--2500-3500 miles per month. I thought it was the best answer for all concerned, especially me, to give myself a shove back into "normal mode". But I'm learning I didn't give myself enough time to heal. And worse than that... I've been sending myself messages that are not very loving, or patient, or kind.

My new doctor is beginning to uncover the depth of my injuries, and I'm learning it still hurts really bad. AND THAT'S OK! I sit in his office, and my stomach feels like it's going through a meat grinder. I've spent the last 3 days since I left his office crying like I have a bad ass case of PMS but it feels really good. I'm crying for that woman who teetered on the edge of a cliff; the woman who still feels the blows of the impact in her body as if it just happened. I don't understand WHY I still feel it so deeply but I do. This new guy, Dr. Ed, is really good at what he does. He told me the body stores the memories, and the pain, even if my mind wants to be whole, and well. I've haven't felt this safe since the accident. This is good stuff, peeps!

And for the first time since the accident, I'm beginning to allow myself to peel off a layer of tough skin. I don't have to be a tough girl to get through this like I have with every other tough time in my life. I don't have to beat myself up because I don't understand everything yet. I just have to learn to love me, all of me, and stop comparing my recovery with others. This isn't going to be a picnic nor will I devour the beast overnight. But I'm ready to chew on a little morsel of that alligator skin I've told myself I needed to wear.

Hmmmm I didn't even know I liked alligator... [insert evil grin here]

Thanks for listening to me, dear friends~

Thought I'd Lost It...

Someday, someone, somewhere will wonder who this dark haired girl smiling from her eyes down to her barefoot toes, and playing ring around the rosey with her friends was....

Thank goodness I found these pictures. I thought I'd lost them. Whew... This was part of a series of shots we did for our band, Silver Rose. That's me with the dark hair grinning like I'd smoked a fatty. Geez... it was the 70's... What can I say? Except these are the memories I want to take with me to my grave. The "me" I want my family, and friends, to remember. They are pictures of me living my dreams. There's nothing sweeter than that.


That's my dear friend Louie Baker on the left. He set the timer and ran in before the shutter snapped this classic picture. Yes, that's Louie. He always looked smooth even under the most adverse conditions. He, to me, was the king of smooth, and was [probably still is] one of the biggest dreamers I've ever met. Louie could sell his visions, ideas, and next big dream like no other person I've ever met. And you can tell by the picture we all loved Louie. If anyone knows this man... please tell him I love him.... still.... to this very day.

Louie taught me to dream big, and to never let anyone, or anything, stop me from chasing my dreams. I need to remember this message more than ever at this time in my life. I'm framing this picture to use as a visual carrot to help me move forward and faraway from PTSD.

Oh and before I forget... The main reason I went digging to China looking for these pics was because of the overall skirt Carol, the blond in the middle, and I are wearing because.............

Friday, November 20th
is International Overalls Day!!!
Click here for more details

Put them on, take a pic, send it to our flickr group, and have a little fun. One day, someone, somewhere will look back at the pics we take this Friday, and will say, "Now that was pretty darn cool." See that button on the right of my page???

Grab it for your own page, and link back to I.O.D.

In 5 days we're going to make HISTORY!

A Poppy Tale

These are all pictures I've taken.
They are a part of my journey, a pictorial journey.
My poppy series is one of my favorites.
I was going to save these recent pictures of fall for a special time.
That time has come.
They tell an unexpected story.
I'll share it with you now.

Some days I feel twisted, unsure,
ensnared in this PTSD journey.

I look at the road ahead, and it looks confusing,
and terribly downhill.
I'm afraid I'll stumble or fall head first.

Then for a split second I see my path so clearly.
It's an uphill trip
but I know
it's totally worth the climb.

I'm not afraid to sit, and reflect on where I've been
or where I need to go.
It's standing still that scares me most....

Sometimes, especially in moments of inner ,clarity,
I see the fruits of my labor.
Glimpses of where this journey is taking me.

And sometimes...
The buried treasures in PTSD
is revealed to me in unexpected places.

Even if it makes me blue to look at it,
it's a part of the puzzle coming together.

It's in moments like these...

I see a clear reflection of me
through others who have fallen in trauma's arms,
and slept with the ghost of their pasts with no real rest.
It reminds me to remember
I'm not alone...

And even though I feel crumpled, and parched at times,
There is life stirring underneath the dry places.
And every life tells a story.
Every, single one....

Thank you everyone
For being apart of my journey to wholeness.
You've witnessed my tears, my fears,
heard my laughter, my triumphs,
And witnessed my many ups, and downs.
Your words bring me peace, and comfort
just as autumn calms my soul
with her long nights, short days.

I'll curl up in a chair this winter.
I want to finish writing my book.
And I'll reflect on others who've gone before me
like Lisa's Grandfather.
Read his story here, Poppies and Lost Dreams.
A soldier who never received help like I am for PTSD.

This post is for all the fallen giants, and young boys
who served in the military, and stood tall for us.
For those who never had
a safe place to go
Or never found their voice to tell their stories
of what they suffered, and witnessed, so we could be free.
R.I.P Grand-Pere
Your story has added a healing balm to my heart,
and given me courage to walk tall.
I'll walk tall for you, and myself.
There's no shame in PTSD.
~None~

True Love

Look At This…: loyal little bird

The photographs you are about to see show how a very determined male bird tries to save his female mate that has been seriously injured.
Here the female bird is injured and her condition is not good.
The male bird brings her food and attends to her with love and compassion.
Although he tries to help her, she is too badly injured and dies.
He is shocked over her death and tries desperately to bring her back to life, trying to pull her up and make her move.
He finally realizes that his sweetheart has passed away and will never come back to him, and brokenhearted - he cries over his lost love.
He stands by her side, calling and crying for help. He is devastated by her death.
Finally realizing that she will never return to him, he stands beside her lifeless body with great sadness and sorrow, unable to leave her side.
The photos of these two birds are said to have been taken in the Republic of the Ukraine. This male bird was bound and determined to save his female mate. The photographer sold these pictures for a small price to one of the most famous newspapers in France. All the copies of that newspaper were sold out on the day they published these photos.

I borrowed this from a site listed below. It appears many people have re-posted this. I can see why. [reaches for a tissue, for the 12th time]

http://qomaspeakup.tumblr.com/post/241000759/eleasha-drspencerreid

Superman loves me just like this...

without a doubt... he does.

I am so blessed.

Are You A Free Spirit?

Silver Rose Band, 1975

That's me on the far right in my first band, Silver Rose. I was the lead vocalist, and wrote the lyrics for most of our songs. That's my bicycle leaning on the fence. That's how I got to band practice most days... or to work.... or to play.... or wherever my two wheels would take me. Ahhhh... memories. And that's an overall skirt I'm wearing. I wore this nearly everyday, and loved it with a passion. Looking back, I see I've always been a free spirit. Are you?

C'mon... Join the festivities on November 20, 2009. You don't even have to leave your house. Put on a pair of your overalls, and snap a pic. Post it on your blog (let us know), send it to me, add it to facebook or the gang of other free spirits in our flickr group. Or wear them all day long like I will be.

Tell me how you're a free spirit. With or without monkey pants.... errr I mean sassy overalls. Please visit Niels who thought this whole thing up. International Overall Day Nov 20 ~Sassy~

International Overall Day November 20, 2009

You are officially invited to join me and 1000's of others as we participate in a totally fun way to wear your monkey pants! Please scroll down for the link, and some ideas how you, and yours, can wear your overalls.... Yep...even Opie Taylor will be sporting a pair. Yes.... he will probably be high on doggy downers to do it but he will. Well.... I think he will. [Can you say photoshop???] OK at least I know I will be. I'd love to have you join me in this special day. My friend Niels will help you if you have any questions.

Yes, overalls CAN be sessy....

Yikes...

Please do NOT show Opie Taylor the picture above
or I'll NEVER be able to get him in his overalls...

Monkey pants at their finest!

Anyway you look at it...

This is going to be FUN!

On my side bar is the official link for the first annual International Overall Day November 20, 2009, and a button you can add to your page. C'mon!!! Let's make history!

Inspired Writing?

~A Frost Covered Message of Hope~

Do you believe in inspired writing? Has it ever happened to you? A wave of insights, images, or thoughts so profound you must stop at once, grab a pen, and paper in hopes to capture it before it's gone. *Poof* The words come like waves, and images, in an audible voice inside your head that is your voice but is not your voice. The urge resonates deep within your soul, and you know it is a message, an encouragement, a truth you need to hear and serves as a road map of where you've been or where you need to go.

I've had this happen to me many times, especially with song writing, or when my heart was seeking solace, answers, or peace. It happened yesterday after I read all of your loving comments, emails and posts on Facebook about my post, "Crashing Into Me." I was overwhelmed, in a good way, by your love, support, and caring. I started crying, the good kind of crying that cleanses a heart. I could not hold back the flood of tears that covered my cheeks in a wet, warm shower of tender, healing kisses.

I got up to get a tissue and looked outside the kitchen window. There had been a heavy frost the night before, and the sun had just poked her smiling face up over the Lily Pad. I saw a patch of grass that had been thawed by the morning light. It was nestled between long fingers of frost still clutching the hillside like a vice, and instantly saw it as a parallel to my brain, my trauma, and what it feels like being buried under layers of PTSD.

Below is what came to me in a flood, and a flurry, of handwritten words that took less than 5 minutes to compose in one of my art journals. I am sharing it with you with no editing---for when it comes from the Universe, God, your Higher Power or whatever you choose to call it--it needs no editing. It is what it is---just as it is.

"This morning the earth, the grass, the fallen leaves were covered in frost--icy white and sparkling--a blanket of frigid stars that cover life, the former warmth of summer now gone. Soon the sun peeked up behind the trees that line my sky, like soldiers with no place to go except to guard the hilltop, and shade the yard.

As the sun crawled through a break in the trees she laughed at the frost and the frost ran away. Dewy green patches came alive like Easter grass. Her arms had not yet reached all the shadows or shaded areas--but she wasn't worried or hurried. She knows her power and is not afraid of doing too little or too much at once. She waits for the birds to sing a song of joy as they flit and fly in her warmth.

My eyes grabbed a hold of this splendid moment as a recognition--a validation--a metaphor. Part of my brain is sleeping under a frost covered grave. It doesn't know the sunshine, "the truth", is nearby--shining like a torch to break up and melt the lies. The fears. The scary places that so desperately need some truth, some love, some understanding, some forgiveness, some kindness, some affirmations, some holding, cuddling--saying it's OK. It has been cold, and it has been so very lonely.

Crevices fill up with debris--sometimes they need a howling wind to stir them--awaken them to the need to be free of the leftovers life deposited in their gullets. In the trees a crow caws and scoffs at the sun--preferring the frosty places. It's a scavenger, waiting.

But the sun--my heart, my soul, my rope to the heavens--just keeps climbing over the shadows. The clock is in motion and nothing can stop the spinning wheels of renewed life except God or the Universe her/himself. How lovely, and fresh, and baby green is the grass (all the places I buried my fears) when they've been shown the light.

Oh sunshine--come in. I welcome you. I need you. I've been cold for far too long. This little bird is going to fly! No frosty fingers will hold me down, away from a sunshine sky."

I took this photo about an hour
after I wrote the love letter from the Universe.
This little bird was singing from its heart,
basking in the sunlight.

Crashing Into Me

Sorry to post such a graphic picture. Please read on. I need your support for the next leg of my healing journey.

I've never posted a picture on my blog of the vehicle from my accident (R.I.P. you died so we would live) but I have to vent. I felt much like our van looked like after the accident when I left my psychiatrist after my visit last Friday. I left feeling broadsided by his words, crushed, and waiting for a tow truck to haul my carcass off to the graveyard.

My body took a hit from a car speeding at 70 MPH with such a force I still feel it in my body 1.5 years later, plus I also took a brutal hit to my mind; fear, stress, anxiety, and trauma. It's shaken me like a rag doll with razor blade teeth, and still howls at me every time I get into an automobile. But I think there is nothing worse than effects of words by a calloused soul who has no ability to connect, and apparently has no desire to even if he could.

The medications prescribed to me have been nuclear powered. They've also had volcanic side effects: major insomnia, major intestinal and stomach problems, agitation, panic attacks, extreme anxiety, heart palpitations, night sweats, apathy, numbness to life, neither joyful or sad, sluggishness, lethargic, decreased sex drive or ability to orgasm... Up, and down... up and down... I could go on, and on about the side effects. Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about. I am in no way telling people to not take a prescribed medication but my LORD what is the sane thing to do????? Either way I have the same symptoms. PTSD or Side Effects.... so what do I do?

At first I pushed through taking each medication as prescribed, ever hopeful I'd been given a "magic" pill. But [for me] there is no magic pill. All the various medications had the same bad side effects when I took them. Later I started saying no, and asking to try to something else. My psychiatrist begrudgingly agreed each time but would always coax me back to another heavier type of medication.

What's made this entire process an even worse pill to swallow is that this man never looked at me when I sat at his desk. He just looked at his computer screen clicking away. I rarely spent more than 5 minutes in his office. I hated to go but didn't think I had a choice. Then for a few months I had some relief when he set me up to see one of his counselors, and she had such a genuine compassion for people, I continued to go once a month or more as needed. However she was pregnant, and never returned after she had her baby. I was crushed hearing this, and wavered whether or not to go back at all.

I asked Superman to go in with me, which of course, he valiantly agreed to. He was as appalled as I had been at his lack of "desk-side manner". In fact, the doctor seemed a bit agitated I had asked Superman come in with me. That should have been a huge CLUE to get help elsewhere. But instead I procrastinated about going back in again. The sudden move, my Mom, and needing to see her before her surgery, etc, etc.... I validated every reason but the truth is I HATED how I felt being around this doctor. But eventually I needed to go back so I made the dreaded appointment which was this past Friday.

He scolded me for not coming in to see him for 2.5 months. I explained about the move from the Tree House , and that I also depend on Superman to take me to my appointments, and sometimes it's hard for him to leave his business to help me. Blah...BLAH, blah.... When asked about another medication he'd prescribed me and how I was doing on it---I told him I was too afraid to take it for all the side effects which pissed him off. It was the drug Ab----y. You've seen the ads...."If your anti-depression medication isn't working for you... you may need another pill to boost your antidepressant." Then the last two thirds of the commercial lists all the frigging side effects. Oh YES please I want a whole f....king gallon of those!

I asked him if he'd ever been in a bad auto accident.... which he answered he had. He told me he totaled his car, called his insurance company, got a rental car in 5 minutes, and he drove off happy as a bee. [Well goody for you!] Next he told me he had patients he had "healed" from various "prestigious" companies [he proudly named them off like a list of personal credentials] within 3-6 months. I asked him if their jobs included an intense driving schedule like my job had, 2500-3000 miles per month. He said that didn't matter but because I'd asked him, he told me.

Then he told me not to come back.

I know it's not entirely his fault. It is the way we do business here in America. The drug companies dictate what incomes/kick-backs the doctors make, and so on, and so on. I know there are good doctors , and bad ones. I also know it's MY body, MY mental health, and MY responsibility to take care of myself. No one else will. So this is why I've decided to undergo treatment from a specific PTSD psychologist I told you all I was going to go see.

The meeting went well. I really, really like this guy. He told me it will be hard at times, and I will probably hate him on some days..... But I want to get well. I am willing to do whatever it takes to get my life back, my mind back. PTSD is just now being recognized, and talked about, as the beast it is. Our soldiers are coming home from the war, and our Vets, from previous wars, have been neglected so horribly. [don't get me started on this one...grrrrrr] But PTSD also happens to regular people just like myself. Trauma is trauma. Bottom line.

I begin what will be an intense program next Monday night. He's supportive of my choice to try to do this without heavy medications, and eventually none at all. I feel so free now. I believe I found a tiny opening in the Universe to squeeze into a window of recovery, healing, and wholeness again.

The pic above shows the narrow spot our van hit on the guard rail on the overpass before it flipped, and went down a steep, rocky hill. A few inches either way and we would have hit concrete. Those inches were just many of the miracles that happened, and allowed us to live that day. The divot you see in the rocks is where the van landed [my side, shotgun] after it flipped. I still feel the impact in my bones, my cells, my memories, and my dreams.

Maybe, just maybe.... I've crossed through another narrow passage way to a miracle. I have to believe it to receive it. And........

I will get well.

Barn Babe

I loved taking these pics of the barns in KY.
Yep... I'm a Barn Babe.

Buggy Lust

I took these shots while traveling the back roads to my Mom's house in KY a couple of weeks ago. I loved the pace, the clickity-clack of the horse's hooves on the asphalt. I loved the simplicity of life, and the peacefulness that traveled as an unseen, but ever so present passenger in the wagon.

I had an instant affinity for these boys with rosy cheeks heading home, or nowhere in particular, on the highway that afternoon. For a moment I felt a calmness wash over my brain; my brain that struggles to cope when vehicles race ahead to pass me on the highway. The brain that wants to put the brakes on, and never leave the house. The brain that quietly screams driving directions to anyone driving within range--except these lads in their buggy. The brain that temporarily forgot it was under attack by images, fears, and memories that day on a quiet Kentucky country road.

I was filled with buggy lust as the horse clipped down the road at a safe pace. Clippity-clop...clippity-clop. Hooves singing a lullaby of tranquility to my mind; the mind that normally hears even the slightest squeal of brakes or sudden engine surges of trucks, cars or motorcycles. I smiled like a child watching a circus act at the boys in their buggy, and waved like a tacky tourist--camera in hand to catch a frame or two of bliss. The kind of bliss I used to have riding in a car with no voices chasing me down like roadkill about to happen.

The boys smiled back. I told myself to hold onto their smiles. Hold onto the moment as though it were a drug I could take that wouldn't make me groggy. I've missed seeing the beauty being on the highway can bring. I miss the ability to breath normally, relaxed, and carefree inside a car. But for just a few minutes I did find myself in the moment, and not in the past, that day on the trip to my Mom's. But unfortunately it didn't last long enough. No, not nearly long enough.

Superman and I were scheduled to make a flight to Salt Lake City the following week after the unexpected trip to visit my Mom before her surgery. We had to cancel our flights. My body, and my mind couldn't take any more stress. Superman never once made me feel guilty for not taking our previously planned trip to Utah. I had to put on my big girl panties just to say yes to making a flight. With PTSD anything that feels like you are not in control can cause a crash inside your head without ever leaving your house. Sometimes I just want to hole up, and never leave .... just so I won't feel helpless or afraid. But that's not living... it's dying a slow death.

I'm proud of myself for making such a long trip in a car. It took us nearly twice as long to get to my Mom's, and then return back home, with all the frequent stops, and traveling on back roads instead of major highways. But in making the trip, I learned I need more help to heal. I need tools not drugs. I've been in treatment both with a psychiatrist, and a lovely counselor for a year and a half since the auto accident. I stopped going to both couple of months ago. Now I see I still need help. The trip nudged me to make an appointment with a specialist who works specifically with trauma victims like myself who have PTSD.

I'm going tomorrow at 2:00. Hopefully, he can help me make the next leg of my journey to wholeness without drugs. One day I'll be able to settle my heart down when it races like a train without an engineer on my own. One day I'll smile at other drivers on the highway just like these boys smiled at me.

Yes, one day.....
I will be the pony and not the cart.