The Crash

Okey Dokey.........been a wild ride for that past few weeks.........anyone who has ever suffered from PTSD/Anxiety/Depression knows that every once in awhile, out of nowhere, when you least expect it...........kaboom..........you are hit with a "crash".  Sometimes these events are a day long, maybe a week........or sometimes they last for a long time and take you to the very depths of your soul.  Sometimes they are triggered by past events and sometimes they are triggered by numerous current events all piled one on top of the other.  Sometimes they are medication issues that need to be adjusted.  Whatever the cause of the "crash" the result is a dark, scary, heart broken place that you wonder if you even want to try to recover from.  When you open your eyes in the morning and your first thought is " oh crap....I can't do this another day" and you are in tears before you have even got out of bed, when you know that most people just don't "get it" and that this will be another day that you have to paste on some sort of phoney smile or better yet......just stay home, close the blinds to keep the world out and try very hard not to put your burden onto anyone else.........at a time when you most need these people it is very hard to make it all work. It's hard to find a reason to even want to make it all work.

That's where I've been for the past 6 weeks.  Some days were very very dark and other days were manageable.  There was the day I went to the doctor's in my pajamas and cried and said " I cannot do this another day".  There was the day that I fell apart in a total heap of rubble on the running trail because I was scared out of my wits when a man stepped out in front of me ( quite innocent on his part) but triggered the most frightening piece of my memories and before I could get a grip on my world I slowly fell apart to the point that my friend Laurel had to come and get me from the trail and I fell to my knees and sobbed.  There was the day I rec'd a few texts from a very dear friend that were rec'd by me in a very painful way - I thought my heart was truly breaking into pieces - if I put my hand on my heart I felt it cracking and breaking.  I've been to the doctor, the lab, the pharmacy, my therapist and then repeated that cycle.  I've had some medication changes, the most annoying apt with the Pyschiatrist that I have to see once a year to sign off on my meds - the woman is a complete ass in my opinion. 

So........now that I feel that I coming back into the land of the living and working hard at making my days meaningful I am ready to carry on with my story - just not today!

There are imprints in your brain that no matter how hard you try to work past them they are there forever stained and marked.  They don't go away.  They are part of your soul.  You don't just "get over it" as some people would like to believe.  You "get around it" the best way that you know how.  You have to find your voice and your words and quietly and gracefully take care of yourself first. 

But........thankfully I can pull it out of my butt when I need to because in the midst of all of this darkness I had my full on, face to face 2 hour interview with a retired RCMP officer who is working on my enhanced security clearance!  I tell you, I was at my best that morning!  I might lose a few battles along the way but I am going to win the war!!!

Good to be back............:-))

Lyin' Eyes ( by the Eagles)

It's the summer of 1977!  I've finished my first year of University and took the train back to Vancouver with all of my "stuff" to spend the summer with my mom in her new store in Princeton.  It was the May long weekend and I took to the bus from Princeton to Vancouver to spend the weekend with my aunt and uncle in North Vancouver. My uncle offered to pick me up at the bus station and deliver me up to North Vancouver.  He took me out for dinner first - The Spaghetti Factory down in Gastown - and I am quite sure that anyone around us would have thought that we were out on a dinner date judging by how he acted. He was laughing and making balloon animals and just generally trying to "impress" me. There was that "weird" feeling inside again but I had no words to explain it.  On one hand it was very nice to be taken out to dinner and doted on but on the other hand it did not feel right in my gut.  Lesson learned - always trust your gut feelings - your gut is your second brain.

After dinner we proceeded to drive over to North Vancouver.  I know that he knew where he was supposed to be going - he'd lived in Vancouver for probably 20 years at that point.  How hard is it to find a street that is one block off of Mountain Highway for heaven's sake?  I know that now,  but at the time I had no clue where we were or where we were supposed to be going.  It was quite dark out by that time and he was making a big fuss over not being able to find the street - driving around and around the dark subdivisions of the North Shore area making turn after turn.  By that point I was really getting scared - I've never been the person who finds getting lost just part of the whole adventure!  I suggested that we stop and ask for directions at a gas station and it was clear to him that I was not at all comfortable.  Amazingly, within about 5 minutes - presto - there we were at Pierard Drive!  There is no doubt in my mind that he was driving in circles for the sole purpose of trying to find an opportunity or the guts to make a move on me. Sunday afternoon my aunt and uncle dropped me off at an open house you were having for you to take me to dinner at then over to catch my bus home. 

And all the time that we were driving around.........he had a cassette tape of the Eagles playing.......a black car with burgundy interior.........some things you just never forget.

Horse Drawn Sleigh Rides.........

Seventeen years old........in 1976 when I was 17 I was more like today`s 14 year old.  I was not a social butterfly in high school, I was not at all the important parties on the weekend, I never came to school on Monday with a low cut shirt and a neckful of hickies to show everyone - my big claim to fame was that I frequented the indoor smoking area - wow! I babysat for most of the local RCMP families, I taught piano and theory lessons during the week and practiced my own piano studies for my exams, I worked weekends at a local drugstore.  In hindsight - my mom had it pretty easy with me!  When I graduated from high school I knew 1 thing - I was going to the University of Sask. enrolled in the College of Education.  Not because I had always dreamed of being a teacher and going away to school......because my dad said I was going to university and there would be no discussion.  Why the College of Education - because I had no idea what choices I might have had, my Grandmother had taught school forever ( even in the little one room school house) and because somehow I won the local Teacher`s Scholarship for a first year Education student. My life was planned out except for one thing.........I didn`t plan it.  I was homesick, I didn`t want to be there, I was so socially and emotionally delayed - I was the proverbial fish out of water.

Needless to say I was one happy person to board a plane out of Saskatoon in December of 1976 to go to Coquitlam and be with my family for a month.  I had rec`d letters from my mom every week sharing with me her plan to buy a store in Princeton  - a gift and grocery store - the big city of Coquitlam was not for her and my uncle, being a real estate agent, had found the perfect place for her in Princeton.  We made a trip up there during my stay that Christmas and oddly enough the one very vivid memory of that trip that I have - my uncle got into the back seat and specifically asked me to sit beside him.  Weird but very complimentary in a back handed way. We all had Christmas dinner together and as a family spent more time together thru out that month.  After I flew back to Saskatoon and settled in for the second half of my first year a strange letter came in the mail one day.  My uncle wrote to me that he was envious of all of the boys at University who would be the ones to sit beside me during the long cold winter evenings and go on horse drawn sleigh rides with me.  Hello, I was in Saskatoon going to school - not filming an episode of Little House on the Prairie.  And....how weird is it that your uncle is envious of boys being around his niece.........at the time I had no clue just how weird this was........I was being groomed and I had this person who was only 12 years older than me writing to me at university.  Oh God how I wish I could turn the clock back 35 years. 

Stalking his prey, tiptoeing around in the forest, carefully covering his tracks and camoflauging his true existance,  tossing out bits of tempting treats to lure his prey out into the open and away from the safety of the herd.....always adjusting his view in the sights of his rifle....the hunter waits patiently in silence for that one perfect shot..............

A hunter is born.......

Here I sit, Esme is asleep across my feet - her way of not letting me out of her sight unnanounced - and needing to do 2 things.  1. Hit the "open" button on the 2010 Tax Return software and 2. Catch my flight on the next space shuttle.  Since I'm not at all packed for my trip to the moon that would leave option #1.....for a few more minutes anyway!

I need to back up in my story a bit to give you more of an idea of how my uncle worked his way into our world. I had forgotten to mention that 2 years prior to my mother leaving Swift Current her mother had died quite suddenly.  Her trip to Vernon to bury her mother was the first time that she had reconnected with some of her siblings - one of them being her brother, my eventual torturer.  She was quite taken with him I think.  He was very urban and quite successful at his career.  Perhaps the most defining moment for her during that occasion was the night right after my Grandmother's burial.  Each of her 9 children had taken a red rose from the casket spray and somehow during the night my uncle realized that he had lost his rose.  In the middle of a February night he walked quite a distance to the cemetary, found her grave and took another rose from the spray of flowers laying on top of her grave.  My mother, being ever maternal, thought that this was the most heroic and stoic event and she spoke almost reverantly about him after she returned home.  He called our home a few times - family squabbles regarding the will, etc. had begun in earnest and he was the one sibling that my mother seemed to believe in and even told him on the phone that he was her favourite brother. There was a large age difference between the 2 of them and I really think that my mother conveyed a message of "motherly" love to my uncle.  I think that he knew that but I also think that he knew that he had his "foor in the door" to my world. At that point all he would have had known about me was the what the family photos that my mother took with her to Vernon would have shown. A hunter stalks his prey, slowly, quietly, never wanting to step on a branch or a twig that could shatter the silence and catch the calm, gentle doe feeding on the grass.  No, the hunter has patience, the hunter waits to have that doe in the crosshairs of his scope, waits for that moment when she is singled out from her herd and unsuspecting of any tragedy about to befall her - he waits until he has the perfect clean shot - and then...........

And so it begins........

Oh my.....still recovering from a rather major "crash". Life handed me the perfect storm of about 5 things all at one time and my boat was swamped and no life jacket to grab onto.  Without sounding like a big drama queen - this was a physical and emotional slap upside the head.  Physically - it never even occured to me that my thryoid issue could be having a flare up - normally I can feel it in my throat within days of the levels risisng but I guess I missed the signs of this one 'cause it was a beauty.  I had gone to the doctor looking like a homeless person - 2nd day of the same pajamas, head by bed, and eyes that looked like the rings of Saturn. I held myself together long enough for him to shut the door and then all bets were off.  I have the best doctor and he never just pats me on the head and suggests it might be "stress".  He's been on this long journey with me and he knows that when I crash - I crash.  He asked me the question that all doctors have to ask their patients who look like I did - "Do you feel you are in danger of hurting yourself?".  No, I'm not finished with a few people yet so I'm staying around to see how that all plays out. ( to say “yes” gets you a one way ticket to the pysch ward in Langley which is about the worst place in the world to ever end up. Never say “yes”)    Then he looked at his computer screen and reminded me that my 6 month check of my TSH levels was about 13 months overdue so how about I pop over to the lab on the way home and have that done.  Off I went to the lab - still looking like a hobo, in fact a little too off the wall because the tech that was taking my blood actually looked at my Medic Alert bracelet and asked if I was diabetic - and then I dragged my butt back home still full of despair and anxiety and the insidious fear that PTSD leaves you with.  Well, bit of shock the next day when the dr's office calls and asks me to get my butt back down there ASAP.  This time I actually was dressed!  I sat down in the same chair, feeling the same "I can't fight this anymore" feeling,  when in came the dr with a smile on his face and the words "good news - your TSH levels are 3 times higher than they should be!"  I swear my jaw hit the floor - I was totally shocked.  Not only was I dealing with wacked out TSH levels but that issue also played havoc with my regular meds and basically nothing was acting like it was supposed to. New prescription for my thyroid pills which sadly, take a few weeks to build up enough in my system to actually start working and orders for a new blood draw in 2 months.  This could take awhile to find the amount of meds I have to take to compensate for what my body isn't making to bring the level back down to "normal". Somehow tho' having a logical answer for my illogical feelings was very soothing.

And while my body was running its own personal little horror show 2 events occured within days of each other that kinda blew my heart apart.  I can cope with the physical and the emotional just not all at one time.  Mix the two and I'm done like dinner.

Time to pick up the thread of the story where I last left off  - my family moving to BC. It was arranged that I would fly out to see them just before I left for University in the fall. My mother was settled into a rental home in Coquitlam that some friends of hers had helped her find.  Life seemed to be sorting itself out for the 4 of them - at least on the exterior.  My mother had also made contact with her brother and sister that lived in Vancouver and North Vancouver.  I had met my uncle once when I was quite young and did not really remember him.  He was quite a bit younger than my mother and they had never really connected as siblings.  She was however quite enjoying seeing her family again and invited my uncle and his then girlfriend over to dinner while I was visiting.  I answered the door to find a very handsome, Westside/Kitsilano guy with a very attractive girlfriend named Barbara.  As the evening wore on the conversation took a bit of a turn and I found myself being complimented and spoken to by my uncle somewhat as if we were 2 strangers and he was trying to "pick me up".  He complimented me far more than I think would be considered "normal" and paid more attention to me than to his girlfriend.  When they left at the end of the evening his hug goodbye was more than the perfunctory family hug.  Odd.  This all took place in my mother's living room in front of everyone there. 

Over the years I have learned the term "grooming".  Grooming is the process where abusers slowly worm their way into their victim's world, it's such a subtle process that no one even notices, especially the victim.  Most pedofiles and family abusers don't make a move on their target right away - they need to earn the "trust" of the victim and slowly and insidiously suck them into their eerie world of wickedness.  That evening, in front of my family and his girlfriend, my uncle had begun the "grooming" process.

In her eyes, I see pure love

Well since my Costco moment and my last post I have to say that I managed to pull the rug right out from under my feet and it has taken this long to get back up and ready to go for another round in the boxing ring of life!

I know that my blog is kinda all over the map - it's not in chronological order at the moment but one day it will be in a book and with the help of a wise editor ( thank you Darcy) it will be much more linear. What I am finding at the moment is that writing about some of these earlier experiences in life does seem to be "retraumatizing" ( a therapeutic description for when life bites you on the butt again) and for me, I need to take some time between those posts to keep myself on track.

Let me tell you the story of how an angel with 4 paws, deep brown eyes and blonde hair came into my life.  I've never had a dog, wasn't getting a dog, wasn't up for discussion - talk to the hand.  My doctor and my therapist both worked me over pretty good - in a kind and methodical way! - that I needed a dog to help me cope with my anxiety, panic disorder and PTSD.  I do wear a Medic Alert bracelet - which I did have to use once - but the idea was to try to find a way to grasp onto to something that was calming and reassuring and could be my words for me when I could not use them myself.  Being a runner myself it was also a chance for me to have a companion on the trails with me running like the wind together!

Life comes at you fast man.......on Tuesday May 11, 2009 I was not getting a dog.  Oh I had explored the idea mostly to placate everyone but frankly, the thought of looking after any creature other than myself was daunting to say the least.  A friend of a friend who's daughter was friends with another lady's daughter told my friend that there was about to be a litter of golden retrievers born any day and I needed to get my act together and get one of those puppies. Huh?  You're kidding me right? I need a puppy?  NOT.  But what had led to this point was the fact that I had been dog sitting for my friend's mom off and on and they have the most awesome 10 year old Golden named Scout.  It did not go unseen by those that were campaining for me to have a dog that when I was with Scout I was a much calmer and collected human being.

And so on the morning of May 13th, 2009 into the world came 8 puppies.  Being that I was the last one to the party I had to wait for 2 other people to pick their choice of the 3 little girls left but I knew which one I wanted the moment I saw them at 48 hours old. She was the littlest girl and the blondest and I just felt in my heart that she was sent from "above" to fall into my life and I needed her as much as she needed me.  I was so blessed to have had the chance to have a family raised puppy and because they lived 4 blocks away I was invited and welcomed to come over anytime and visit all of the puppies and the momma and the grandma. I spent so many hours in Laurel's backyard that summer - the puppies would be out on a blanket in the sunshine and I could just be there with them and hold them and feel "love".  Some days I just sat there and cried.  When the last puppy was chosen I was so lucky to have Esme saved for me.  Esme is from the Old French and means "beloved".  Laurel guided me thru the new mom stage - first Esme came home for 2 hours at a time, then she came for overnight visits and then finally, one Monday at lunchtime - I took my puppy home.  Now, I have never had children so this was my "deer in the headlights" experience of taking home a "baby" that I knew nothing about raising.  Laurel very wisely and calmly told me "Michelle, she will tell you what she needs".  And so off we went to puppyhood and all the joys and trials that that brings.

Today Esme is almost 2 years old.  She goes everywhere with me that we can go and sometimes she has to wait in the car but often times she gets to come into the "dog" friendly stores that we have made a conscience choice to shop at. They know her and love her visits and she is treated like a queen! As a matter of fact when we go to Windsor Plywood it's all about the dog and I am just kinda on the end of the leash - one would think that she had the Visa card and list of things to buy!!  She and I have been in obedience classes since she was 12 weeks old and she is now a St. John's Ambulance accredited therapy dog. Sharing her love and comfort is a great gift for both her and I. 

Esme follows me everywhere - she lays on the bathmat while I have a shower! and she knows immediately when I am having a bad day or about to crash and burn.  She never leaves my side in those moments and has been known to stand between me and someone else when she knows I am struggling. 

This precious angel was truly sent especially for me at a time when I was ready for her ( but didn't know it!) and she has been my saviour so many many times. In her eyes, I see pure love.  I see the trust that she has in me, the need for her to be my protector and the bond that we have is unbelieveably strong. She came to me as a therapy dog and now I am so blessed to be able to share her amazing gifts with other people who need a moment of pure unconditional deep true love.

Lost and all alone..........

Our new life - my mom, my 2 sisters and I.......my brother had stayed with my dad........ left the only world we knew and moved into the city, to an area that was not the most pleasant, to a life we had never imagined would be ours.

My father had laid down the gauntlet with the ultimatum that if my brother went with his mom and his sisters he would never ever inherit the family farm.  My brother was the only son of a man who was the only child so the bloodline ended there.  At 8 years old my poor brother was forced to make a decision that most adults could not even dream of making.  Sadly, my father was far from a great role model and my brother more or less raised himself. Today my brother is an amazing man.......he married a wonderful girl that he met at high school and they raised a beautiful, intelligent daughter who is now in University. 

One important note:  My mother had given my father an amazing opportunity - clean up your act, stop drinking, stay sober for a year and we will be back. What a gift - which was thrown out with yesterday's trash.  My father not only continued to drink but with wild abandon and created oh so much heartache and headache for those in his life.

My mother's divorce decree nici came thru and although she was granted sole custody of all of her children her lawyer gave her some very very wise advice - leave my brother with my father and allow my brother to come to her on his terms willingly.  To force him to move would be disastrous.  Weekend visitations arrived.......each of us saw those weekends thru different eyes.  I was angry with my father, angry that he was articulate in his disgust for me because in his eyes " I had sided with my mother".  I was angry because the first Friday that he picked us up he took us to dinner at the K Motel restaurant and what did he do? He cried.  Mortifying to a 15 year old.  Ridiculous to a 15 year old who knew that he had brought all of this on himself. Disgust because it was "all about him".  Another Saturday morning he took us into town and to visit one of his drinking buddies.  So our visit with our dad took place watching him visit with his crony.  I was so done with that sideshow. 

By then my mother had taken her portion of the divorce settlement and bought a sweet older house up near the hospital.  She was into "Flip That House" before HGTV even existed!! She turned it into a delightful house and promptly put it up for sale and moved kitty corner across the street to a bigger house and "Flip That House" started all over again! I loved both of those houses and the joy it brought to my mom to be busy and happy.  I spent most weekends on my own as my mom worked part time at a flower show - but I loved being on my own.  I baked, I sewed, I puttered.......my siblings were at my dad's and the house was quiet.

But as per usual.......no gentle serene life for us.......no siree........for some reason I think my dad wanted my mom to fail and to fall on her face and come running back to him. This was the beginning of the second perfect storm.

Three things that I remember vividly as if they happened yesterday.........in the days of simpler life all kids walked to school - from kindergarten to Grade 12.  My littlest sister walked to and from kindergarten freely but one day.....she did not come home.  And oh my God.......the world blew apart. She was with my dad but how she came to be with my dad has so many variations of the "truth".  There are many stories but I think the realisitic person would say that a 5 year old did not walk 5 miles from school to my dad's farm.  But that was one of the version of events.  It was said that she walked out that way and my father saw her and picked her up.  Ok....highly unlikely but everyone is entitled their version of events no matter how screwed up they are.  The police organized her safe return.

My father also disowned me.  He had his will changed.  In his mind I had abandoned him.  I did not receive birthday cards, Christmas cards .......and the piece d'restance was the year he outfitted all 3 of my siblings with new ski equipment from top to bottom and took then to Lake Louise/Banff to ski.  I, on the other hand.....had become invisible.  Whether he knew it or not it was my mother that he hurt the most with these actions. I came to expect nothing and then I wasn't surprised.  I grew to hate a man who would cast aside his daughter because she didn't give him the "pass" that the rest of the world continually did. 

The final blow was a direct hit. Unbeknownst to my dad the fellow who had moved in across the street from us was an RCMP officer.  The police contacted my mother and told her that my father had been spotted on numerous occasions parked kitty corner from our house ( we lived on a corner lot) with his car facing our house and had open liquor in the car. A stalker ahead of his time!  His last hurrah was to be caught in this position with a loaded shotgun in the car.  Now, nothing good can ever come from an inebriated man with a weapon. The police advised my mom that my father's actions were escalating and now would be a very good time to leave the city.  Huh, so my dad doesn't get his sorry ass hauled off to jail but we get to put our house up for sale and my mother and my sisters moved 2 provinces away.  This was the summer of my graduation ( and what a fiasco that was until my father just announced he would not be attending because he did not have a daughter in Grade 12) and things moved fast.  The For Sale sign went up on the house, the moving van came and loaded up and headed west with my mom, her new beau ( my father in carnate) and my 2 sisters - both very upset about moving.  The house sold weeks after they left. I stayed with friends because I was working for the summer and then off to University in the fall.  The day the moving van left and I said good bye to my family I walked into that empty, sad house where so many hopes and dreams lay shattered amongst the dust and I sank down on the living room carpet and sobbed.  I cried for a life that should never have come to this.  I cried for a "normal" world that I wanted so badly.  I missed my family so much and I knew that my world was forever changed.  Well, I thought my world was forever changed - what I did't know is that in about 3 months time it was going to be CHANGED forever. Sad sad times. 17 years old, a father who really hated me and whom I hated just as much, a mother so far away and buried in a brand new mess and I was lost. So very very lost.