PTSD

Letters from Hell #1

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

Beloved Friends,

I saw a meme yesterday that read:

What if in 2020 we all died and this is hell?

These are the first words that have made any sense of the world in which we are currently living, because beyond all that we see on the surface of things, it sure feels like hell.

For me, my heart is broken over all of it – but mostly over the violent division that seems to currently define our nation, if not the world. It seems everywhere I look the finger of blame is being pointed in the opposite direction from where it should be pointed – away instead of toward, because…..

This hell in which we are living, is one of our own making.

When humanity makes gods of men, looking outside of ourselves for guidance, authority, leadership and direction, this is what we get. A bunch of unqualified, overly loud individuals getting rich off our willingness to give them our power.

In this current version of hell, censorship is king. If the “Emperor” doesn’t like what you say about him, then through money and power, you are silenced. Or, if the Emperor is in need of a martyr, one will be created.

All of this to feed the beast of division. Those in power believing that in dividing the nation, they will gain more power. Strangely, it seems their tactics are working as the powerful few gain increasing wealth as the world falls around their feet. What will be left when they are done? A world of ash where beauty once stood? No wonder they’re looking for a way to settle on Mars.

Many of us have known this was coming, but nothing could have prepared us for how truly awful it really is. The long, slow, excruciatingly painful death of the world built on fear, power, and control. Daily, I plead with the universe, DIE ALREADY!

I’m exhausted for the end of things, hoping that when this is all over (will it ever be over?) humanity will find a way to live in peace. But for the love of God, how long is this going to take?

Physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.  I’m not sure how much more any of us can take. We seem to be suffering from a collective sort of PTSD and recent events have only made it worse (thank you Justine Joslyn for this reminder!). 

I know my PTSD is triggered. I feel vulnerable, raw, and highly emotional. My head hurts. I feel the physical effects of cortisol raging through my body producing flu-like symptoms. My heart hurts. I am finding it hard to breathe. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Yesterday, it was all I could do to sit on my couch and pray.

And when I’m at work, I feel broken and flawed. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong and that everything I’m doing is a mistake. I feel unqualified for a job for which I am, in truth, overqualified. I feel ashamed in my imperfection.

This is not me. At least, this isn’t normal me. This is me under panic and in a heightened state of activation. I am finding it hard to focus. I am doomscrolling for something – anything to make me feel safe.  I know better than this – but I can’t help myself.

I feel desperate – desperate for a moment to breathe, a moment to feel safe, a moment of peace in which the world isn’t suddenly exploding with some new tragic or devastating news. I hate it here.

But just when I’m ready to completely give up on humanity, wishing and hoping for this all to be over, I am reminded by the wisdom of youth, in this case my daughter. Yesterday I texted her, “The world just needs to end already.” This was her heart-wrenching, wise response:

“I want the world to get better. There’s still stuff I wanna do.”

UGH!  Knife to the heart! A knife to my heart that broke me wide open. In her wise words, my daughter spoke what we all want:

We want the world to be better. We want it to be better for ourselves, but even more so, for our children and our children’s children. For these, we must hang on to hope – cling to it even. With these words, I will leave you with this:

With the deepest love,

Lauri

The Fallacy of Certainty

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

The topic of certainty came up with my daughter the other day as we were sharing news of an acquaintance who had recently joined a certain church. We were both somewhat amazed that a person of intelligence, reason, and critical thinking would enthusiastically embrace a religion that espouses a very narrow interpretation of … well … everything. As my forever wise daughter observed, “Well, trauma will do that.” Indeed.

For me, trauma has had the opposite effect. Instead of seeking after certainty, I run from anything that seems to be promising certainty. Why? Because life has shown me that other than death, absolutely nothing is certain. But then I wonder, is my response due to trauma, or simply the accumulated observations of sixty years?

Some of the life experiences that showed me the falsehood of certainty proved to be traumatic. By and large, however, uncertainty seems to simply be the truth of life. Anyone that would suggest otherwise is either still clinging to an illusion of certainty, or just plain lying.

In life, nothing is certain. We don’t know if we’ll be born, how long we’ll live, from what we will be safe (hunger, disease, poverty, etc.), or when we’ll die. We don’t know where our life path will lead us and we cannot predict, once on a path, if or how we’ll reach its destination – if ever, or if along the way the path might change or simply fall away. Or maybe we reach the hoped-for destination, and it blows up in our face.

Life is funny that way. A whole lot of unknowns with only one truly predictable outcome:

DEATH

No matter how our lives unfold, death is the final destination. It is the only outcome that is certain. The rest is up for grabs. Everyone knows this. And yet……and yet…..everywhere we look there is someone trying to convince us that they have the key to certainty. Religion that claims to be the sole purveyor of truth. Spiritualists who claim to have a monopoly on the afterlife. Gurus who will gladly take your money for the magical blessing that will ensure enlightenment. Healers who claim to own the trademark to what will save you from dying. Physicians who have the remedies to, if not save your life, at least delay your dying. Politicians who make empty promises about a hopeful future. Coaches to shower their athletes with empty dreams of a professional career. Universities who promise an abundance of fulfillment and wealth after completing a course of study. Life-coaches who also claim to hold the keys to fulfilment and wealth. Authors who promise a formula for manifesting what you want, or “calling in the one.”

All of these are pandering to and profiting from humanity’s insecurities and fears – specifically the fear of the unknown – what we might alternatively call “the fear of life itself.”

Life itself is terrifying. It’s unpredictable. Unstable. Often unsafe. We experience suffering and the pain of betrayal. We know the deep grief of loss. We suffer disappointment. We are the witnesses of violence and death.

We know this about life, and yet we persist. The human instinct for survival is STRONG. But so is our tendency toward denial. We don’t like the anxiety and fear that uncertainty brings, so we  look for anything and everything that might promise otherwise. We look for the perfect job, the magic pill, the charismatic teacher, the soulmate, the book, the coach, the healer……or the mountain we are willing to die on, that gives us the promise of certainty and we embrace it enthusiastically, even bringing our friends and family along for the ride. In one way or another we are all guilty of this.  And yet, every single time, that which promises certainty eventually proves itself wrong and we find ourselves staring down the barrel of uncertainty.

This is just part of being human and having a human experience. We are not, however, doomed to this endless cycle of uncertainty, false hope, and disappointment. Instead of seeking after certainty, we can simply accept that life is – uncertain. Once we accept this truth, and learn to be with the anxiety of uncertainty, we can flow through life from a place of contentment and ease. This doesn’t mean we won’t experience anxiety or fear, but we will have the tools to move through the anxiety and return to a place of equanimity where we can simply enjoy where we are in this moment and appreciate the wonder and beauty that life brings despite all of its uncertainty.

The Effects of Trauma

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Trauma is weird. Trauma is weird because we don’t always know we’re experiencing trauma until its effects accumulate and begin to come out sideways. Trauma is also weird because every person experiences trauma differently.  Some traumas are obvious and expected, others are not. If you are in a war zone and having to deal with constant life-threatening situations, you would expect that you might experience some adverse effects from that trauma. Some people, however, seemingly don’t. If you are in a physically abusive marriage or suffered sexual assault, you would expect to suffer the effects of these traumas. One does not necessarily expect disappointment, heartbreak, loss, or betrayal to be experienced as trauma – but for some they are.

Trauma is weird. My trauma is not from war or physical abuse. What I can now identify as the traumas that eventually led to a diagnosis of CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), I did not necessarily think of them as traumatic at the time. I’m a strong, independent woman and that’s how I got through those traumas – truly by sheer force of will and stubbornness – mixed in with a good dose of resentment. I made myself survive.  I forced myself to weather the storm. I pushed myself through it all – never attending to the deep heartbreak I was feeling because at the time I was just trying not to collapse under the weight of it all.

Well….eventually that all caught up to me. All that forcing did was push the trauma deeper and deeper into my psyche where it built up and accumulated until it started coming out in symptoms of depression, anxiety, hypervigilance, and eventually full-blown and traumatic panic attacks. I’m also convinced that all of this pent up trauma is what made me vulnerable to the bizarre ear infection that permanently damaged my vestibular nerve – causing my now ongoing issues with vertigo, etc. which now prevents me from driving any distance without great effort and no longer allows me to drive on the freeway – dramatically hindering my previously taken for granted freedom of mobility.

Trauma is weird. I have tried to explain my trauma in the past and to those listening, it just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t really make sense to me either. I can point to the situations, experiences, individuals and say – “it’s their fault.” But really, my trauma is less about fault and more about cause. The cause, if I’m truly honest with myself, was LOVE, and the trauma that one experiences when that love is betrayed.

That’s it in a nutshell. Every trauma I’ve experienced has ultimately been about the betrayal of love.

The easiest for me to speak about is my ecclesial trauma because in this case, there are no innocent bystanders who might be hurt by my words. I feel perhaps I’ve written of this ad nauseum, but in a nutshell – I once passionately and deeply loved the Church and the mission of Love I embraced on their behalf. I found my calling in the Church. I was enthusiastically supported in that calling, both financially and otherwise by the Church. I had planned to continue my formation and advancement in Church ministry as far as would be allowed for a woman. Then I wasn’t. All because I took Jesus’ call to Love seriously and accepted that call to heal and teach. It’s a long stupid story and on the outside to call this trauma might seem trite, but I can honestly attest that leaving the Church was harder for me than divorce and the trauma I suffered that ultimately led to my leaving is the greatest heartbreak I have ever experienced. My Church turned its back on me. If you understand the nature of spiritual abuse, you get it.

The other traumas I will continue to hold close to my heart. Suffice it to say, all were deep and indelible betrayals of love. When trauma is a result of betrayal, it becomes personal – and that’s a whole different kind of trauma – which is why it’s so difficult to describe and even more challenging to explain. It’s not as a result of a hit, a punch, or war, it because of a broken heart.  

No matter the cause of the trauma, the effects are mostly the same: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, chronic illness, hypervigilance, memory issues, situational avoidance, disassociation, feelings of overwhelm and cognitive impairment, auditory and visual processing disorders, chronic pain, and so much more. There are medications and therapies that help mitigate the effects of trauma, but in my experience, the effects never fully go away and are always lying in wait to rear their ugly head again – like recently. For whatever reason, my trauma decided to rear its ugly head causing ongoing increased anxiety and breakthrough panic. Whatever I had been doing proved to be no longer enough so now I’m (by doctor’s orders) taking a break from external stimuli, adjusting to an increase in medication, and looking at what other lifestyle changes or adaptations I need to take to continue to care for my trauma-affected mind, spirit, and body.

As an aside, I’m profoundly grateful to my employer who allows for accommodations so that I can continue to work and make a living. AND there are not enough supports in our system for people who have suffered the effects of trauma. For many, work is literally impossible and for the majority, there are not enough accommodations available to help them be part of providing for their basic needs without doing further damage to themselves. If my nervous system had its way, I’d be living in a cabin deep in the woods and all my needs would be provided for so I could just take care of myself, living as gently and quietly and softly as I need. Just sayin!

Is it Vestibular, PTSD, HSP, or Empathy?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Yesterday, I had to leave work early. I had to leave out of a combination of stimuli that triggered – perhaps all – of the conditions I have: chronic vestibular neuritis, PTSD, HSP (highly sensitive person), along with my ability to feel the energy and emotions of others (empathy) so much so that it overwhelms my nervous system. The result was a combination of overwhelm, PTSD symptoms (inability to concentrate, focus, etc), anxiety, and a blaring migraine with a bit of dizziness. While any one of these conditions could have caused the symptoms I experienced, upon reflection, it was a combination of stimuli and conditions that created the perfect storm, making it near impossible for me to continue working while the stimuli not only continued, but increased. Thankfully, I have an understanding employer who is fully aware of my sensitivities and the deficits that sometimes accompany this combination of sensitivities. My work is also flexible, some can be done from home, and my responsibilities for that day were relatively minimal. My employer gave me a supportive smile when I told her I was going home, as she was aware of the challenges I was facing that night.

Not every employer would be so understanding or supportive.

I know I am one of the lucky ones.  In America, 2% of the population are considered empaths, 6% will have PTSD at some point in their lives, 15-20% are diagnosed as HSP, and over 35% of adults over the age of forty suffer from vestibular disorders. I suspect these figures are understated! My point is that a whole lot of people suffer from one or several of the conditions with which I sometimes struggle, and very few employers are understanding of or willing to make accommodations for said-conditions. With none of these conditions does one appear “sick.” For most of these conditions the symptoms are difficult, if not impossible, to describe, causing many, including medical professionals, to believe the issues might be “in your head.”

Literally, vestibular disorders are in our heads! For myself, I have chronic inflammation of the vestibular nerve which makes me sensitive to movement, sound, smells, lights, barometric pressure – and so much more. When I’m “triggered,” the results vary. Sometimes I just feel icky. Other times I’m bowled over by vertigo. Sometimes the vertigo isn’t full-on spinning, just a feeling of disorientation or unease. I sometimes get aura migraines, and other times full-body migraines where I can do nothing but lay on the couch with lights off and a blanket over my head. I NEVER know when the symptoms might arise but there are certain things that are consistent including driving (especially at freeway speeds), snow and rain, windshield wiper movement, low barometric pressure, and red wine. Ironically, red wine is also one of the remedies I have found for when I have a full-on migraine. Weird.

PTSD is even more subtle for me and thankfully with medication I haven’t had a panic attack in several years. I continue, however, to find myself sensitive to crowds, loud noises, a multitude of stimuli, and certain situations and/or conversations. One thing I’ve come to notice, which I don’t remember having before the experiences that brought about the PTSD – I now have some sort of auditory processing disorder – which could also be related to the vestibular issues. The disorder goes like this: if I’m in a crowd of people and someone, or multiple someones are talking to me, I literally can’t hear them.  All I hear is “wha wha wha wha.”  As one friend described it  – “Charlie Brown’s teacher.”  I can hear the sounds, but I cannot make out the words.  For years I thought I was hard of hearing.  My hearing tests all prove to be in the range of normal, and yet, these symptoms persist.  As an office manager, this condition makes my job difficult and overwhelming at times, and I have to repeatedly ask people to repeat themselves while explaining about the processing disorder.

As it relates to HSP and being an Empath, (insert shoulder shrug emoji).  If you are either of these, you get it. If not, there’s likely no way to explain it. The best way to describe both of these is that I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel  everyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyything. Your emotions. Sometimes your thoughts. Pending earthquakes, hurricane, or other global phenomenon. I sometimes know when something bad is about to occur. I can read your energy. I feeeeeeeeeel if you are a good or bad human being. I can tell by your body language if you’ve been abused. Sometimes I see it. It’s bad enough when it’s only one person I’m feeling, or one global phenomenon…….but if it’s a room of people or the whole planet is losing its shit, it becomes overwhelming which makes it difficult to stay fully present, to think clearly, and to remain focused. On some days it’s so bad that I can’t perform normal administrative tasks or even read a book or magazine for pleasure. After periods of intense stimuli, I just don’t have the bandwidth.

So yeah…….with (what felt like) a hundred people in the building and their children talking, making messes, asking for attention, some of them screaming…..I had had enough. Was it due to vestibular issues, PTSD, HSP or Empathy?  The answer is YES.  All of the above.

Again, a huge thank you to my employer and for the universe who put me in their path so I could have a supportive place to work from which I could escape if things become too intense. And my heart goes out to those who aren’t equally supported in their place of employment or who struggle to find employment due to what can often be debilitating symptoms – symptoms that are so invisible that disability won’t even take a look at them.