Things I Think About

Each year somewhere around now, I have a look back at my ever increasing years and write down things about myself that seemed important, at least at the time

1) I cannot seem to recover from PTSD following the loss of our house in Hurricane Katrina even if it has been 10 years.

2) I once took a year long motorcycle trip and visited every national park in the US.

3) I am so glad I did so much traveling when I was young and could enjoy it more.

4) I spent so much time in church as a youngster, I said I would never ever set foot in one again and haven't

5)  I spent years studying organized religion and realized that it is a huge power trip by the leaders who want only power and control over many.  National politics is much the same.

6) I am very spiritual, knowing that we are all part of the same natural web of life.  I find myself and all others in nature.

7)  I am probably the shyest person on earth.

8) I am completely at ease with a microphone in my hand standing in front of 10,000 people.

9) I question everything. Always have and always will.  It got me in lots of trouble and still does.

10) I love learning and never want to stop.

11) I read drug store trash novels.

12) Motorcycles mean freedom to me.

13) I only worked to feed my travel addiction.

14) Retirement is OK, but getting on a ladder or picking up something heavy is much harder to do.

15)  Surviving Katrina was the hardest thing I ever did. No, quitting smoking was the hardest thing I ever did. Surviving Katrina was the second hardest thing.

16) When I came out, the whole world suddenly came clear.

17) I think swimming is staying alive in the water, but I loved to water ski.

18) Sailing is a great way to spend any amount of time.

19) I rarely leave the house without a camera, but am not a great photographer and it's time I accepted that.

20) I am a hack writer. Most all writers are better than I am, but I still keep grinding out words.

21) Everything I have done in my life to make a living was a success.

22) I was 48 years old before I found my passion and earned a living at it.

23) The politicians of the United States are owned by corporations. Their running of the government is only an attempt to keep their jobs.  

24) I think my great-nephew is a really cool kid.

25) I moved to Arkansas to my dream house.  This house and land makes retirement fantastic.

Donna has an Affair

Yes.  I admit it.  I'm having an affair.  It's been off and on for almost ten years now. It's gone on right under Jan's nose, with her full knowledge.  I've never tried to hide it from her, and don't now.  I've never been discreet.   And the best thing: Jan has now fully accepted it.  And, in fact, at times, she's even encouraged the affair. 

Recently, she's started telling a few close friends about it.

There are times when I've tried not to engage in the affair; other days,  I just can't help it.  My other love seduces me and I cannot say no.

In truth, I am not responsible for this affair.  I never have been.  It started without my knowledge about ten years ago - several months after we lost our home and most of our possessions in Hurricane Katrina.  I'd had a bout of shingles over the holidays and then some gastrointestinal problems that spring.  During that year, and for a few thereafter, the affair was sporadic, intermittent.  Jan and I both ignored it.  I certainly did not admit it.  However, over the next five to seven years, it grew more intense and frequent, and, finally, neither of us could pretend it wasn't happening.  Then even my doctor realized it and reinforced the fact that I was not responsible.  Chronic Fatigue was.

Chronic fatigue had forced my body to sleep more than any sloth you might find hanging upside down from  some tree limb in Sri Lanka. Chronic Fatigue had forced me to begin the affair... the affair with Serta.

  

Yes, my affair is with my bed.  I love my bed:  My Serta Perfect Day Mattress Bed. The attraction has increased expotentially over the last five  years especially.  Just the thought of Serta makes me smile. Most days, as evening comes, I find myself longing for Serta, to be stretched out on, and to sink into, her pillow-top.  In the morning, when I first awake, before I even open my eyes, I think, "We cannot part just yet".  And I often snuggle down against Serta and fall back asleep.

Truth be told, many days I've spend more hours sleeping with Serta, than awake... more than with Jan.  Often Serta and I just can't bear to be a part.  Other days, I'll arise at a decent hour (like 9 or 10 a.m.) and try to spend time with Jan and accomplish some important tasks.  But, by 1 or 2 p.m., Serta begins calling me, cajoling me, seducing me back into her pillow-top.  Only rarely can I resist.

It's not my fault.  Really.  Chronic Fatigue drove me to Serta... to my affair with my bed. 

Donna: PTSD, An Invisible Trauma

The Invisible Ones:  Are you a Wounded Warrior?

Not all Wounded Warriors came home sans hands, arms, legs, fingers. Not all came home disfigured - with parts of their face blown off or burned beyond recognition. Some returned looking perfectly normal; walking, talking, looking just like they did before they left.  Quite a few live in your community.  

Although their injuries may be invisible, they are still wounded.

In WWI, it was shell shock.  In WWII, battle fatigue.  Today, and since the Vietnam  War, it is called Post traumatic Stress Disorder: PTSD.

But not all Wounded Warriors with PTSD are returning soldiers.  Not all wore a uniform, or were associated somehow with our government, e.g., diplomats, United Nations employees.  It is certainly not difficult to understand PTSD if we think about the Oklahoma City bombing, Columbine, Sandy Hook, the Twin Towers.  Those who survived these moments in time, their families and friends, the first responders, etc., were severely traumatized. 

Also, many of us have fought (fight) unpublicized, involuntary private battles in our lives that have left us traumatized, plagued with PTSD.

In the Catholic grammar school I attended, a parish priest sexually molested many of the boys.  In my mid-twenties, I was stalked and subsequently raped by someone close to me.  Several close friends, and many past clients, (I am a Licensed Clinical Social Worker)  have lost children to illness or violence.  I know personally, or have worked professionally, with numerous medical personal who stayed in hospitals during Hurricane Katrina, and were stuck there.  Doing  their best, without electricity, food, water, meds, in overwhelming heat, bodies piled up, the stench became overwhelming, and many became, in one nurse's's words,  "like the children in Lord of the Flies."  

We've made the connection between autoimmune disorders and PTSD: Trauma can cause autoimmune disorders. We've also discussed the importance of knowing your personal history.  Can you make a connection in your life?  Have you experienced trauma?  Do you have an autoimmune disorder?  

Donna Speaks: Nature or Nurture

Why stress personal v family history in talking about those "invisible" handicaps?  Well, 'cause so many are invisible, you see.  (OK.  Mildly amusing.)

Medical science has yet to establish a genetic connection for many autoimmune disorders.

We all know about Aunt Sophie who had "that there roomie-tism and poor thing  couldn't even hold her head up... she was so bent all up." And your friend Ethel's friend with Multiple Sclerosis (MS); you could see her wheelchair. Joe, a diabetic from your old neighborhood... lost one leg below the knee and the other foot.

In my extended family, I know of no one who had/has any of the autoimmune disorders, I have/have had - with one exception.  My mother had shingles when she was in her mid-sixties.  I was diagnosed with shingles on December 24, 2005.  My doctor believed, as I did, that my case was brought on by the trauma associated with Hurricane Katrina, et al.

Trauma, i.e., excessive and/or repeated stress, is accepted as a cause - a cause, not a precursor or a "factor in"- but a cause of many disorders, including some autoimmune disorders.  Trauma beats the crap out of your mind, your body, your soul.  It leaves you battered and bruised inside.  And, many, many times, you don't always know that it's beat the crap outta 'ya until you have an out-of-the ordinary reaction to an ordinary event.  And, then, you're asking yourself, "Where the hell did that come from...?" (Sorry, I dangle.)

I'd had several MRIs before the spring of 2006. So it was no big deal when my doc scheduled another one to check the status of my historically ailing lower back.  Before Katrina, I'd was fine in the tube.  One time I even went to sleep during an MRI, so relaxed I was.  This time, I went through the usual prep, laid down, had my earphones tuned to the oldies, and went sliding in... And then, my chest went began to feel tight, tighter.  My breathing, slow and deep, and easy, at first, suddenly became shallow and fast, faster... Jaw muscles clinched, hands made fists...  "What the shit!"  I talked to myself: "Hey, now, easy does it... you're OK.. ."  The Beatles sang, "Slow down.  You're moving too fast...".

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"  I commanded.  "Ma’am, you're OK..."  I rudely interrupted, "GET ME OUT OF HERE NOW... NOW."  And I felt myself slowly sliding out of the coffin.

No amount of reasoning, consoling, or cajoling convinced me to try again.  Not on your life, buddy-boy.  "I am out of here!"  And I got dressed and left the building.

Trauma.  One Big Ole Trauma: being raped, losing a child, witnessing a violent act. All of those things and more are Trauma.  Repeated Losses: your home and all your belongings in a hurricane, in a flood, in a tornado. You are not the same after as before, and never will be.

More on what the Big T does to you.  Tell me what it did to you.  How did it handicap you?