I’ve been missing from this blog space for quite a while, and in full transparency, I’m coping with the uncontrolled symptoms of my mental health. There’s no need to hash out the hows and whys when the parts are still moving, but that’s not what I’m here to share today. I don’t think I’ve ever shared the complicated parts of being in the middle of something. I always share my perspective in hind sight. Today is different. Right now I’m calm, and I feel fine. Sometimes I’m not okay and this article will show you what that has looked like for me. As of the last half year, my window of tolerance has been a small one. I suffered a few losses and transitions before being subjected to the coercive control of a domineering boss. I was pushed over the edge of my tolerance and I’m clawing my way back.

The video below is far better at explaining the concept of the Window of Tolerance than I am, but I’ll still give it a shot.

The Window of Tolerance is our ideal place to be emotionally and mentally. It’s a space where we are doing well enough that minor and major inconveniences are not going to throw us off too much. I envision a baby duck learning to swim. They are so focused on staying afloat, they aren’t worried about water rolling down their back. There is no water, but they are paddling like hell to get to where they are going. Don’t think of the Momma duck. Those bitches are psycho. Stress and trauma can shrink that window so that it doesn’t take much to sink when you’re trying to swim.

Hyperarousal is when our bodies go into fight or flight. We might feel anxious or angry and it’s easier to lose control. Hypoarousal is the opposite reaction to stimulus outside of the window of tolerance. I spent so much time sleeping over the last several months because I was exhausted. You might feel spacey or zoned out. Your body wants to shut down or freeze. It’s not something you can really control or tell yourself to ignore. Your body is reacting in the best way it knows how to recover.

I’ve never shied away from discussing my mental health. I even wrote a book about it. Healing comes through connecting with others and sharing my story means I might help someone else. I have struggled with major depressive disorder and complex PTSD since my teens, if not earlier. The depression has gotten better as I haven’t been a danger to myself or anyone else since I was pregnant with my sixteen year old. That may be subjective. The hallucinations that sometimes come with depression are new.

The complex PTSD and generalized anxiety has gotten worse. The first documented note of depression in my medical records was from an emergency room visit where a stranger noted my depression in my file at the age of nine years old. I’m still recognizing the ways I’ve had Generalized Anxiety for most of my life. It explains why there are certain things I will not do, like go to Las Vegas. It explains the car sickness I had as a child when I rode in the school bus to school or in my sister’s car, but not my parents.

Most of my life, things have been balanced. I could manage how I felt or at least hide it exceptionally well. I’m in a better space than I was as a teenager. I’m not self medicating or intentionally making bad choices. I’m not likely to bark at people unless I just think it would be hilarious as there are some things I refuse to grow out of. I’ve tipped though. I’m no longer slightly unbalanced and willing to try out any random idea or fantasy. I no longer love the bad choices that always wore red flags that looked like capes. I’m on the other side.

Sometimes it’s terrifying. Sometimes I’m amused at what my body is trying to tell me. Sometimes I’m sleepy or on edge. Sometimes I can’t eat and sometimes I can’t stop eating. I’m also in intensive outpatient therapies, taking medication, seeing case workers and psychiatrists. The one thing I’ve had to step up with is my ability to self advocate. I speak up when a diagnosis doesn’t resonate with me. A rheumatologist that barely looked at me said I have fibromyalgia when my symptoms are consistent with PTSD. My doctor listened to my thoughts and made adjustments in my chart. Another doctor witnessed an anxiety attack and suggested I was bi-polar. I had to reign in my emotions and make sure he heard me clearly and without the rambling I sometimes do.

I started writing the next book a few years back and below is an excerpt. I’m not worried about sharing it early because it’ll probably evolve into something new. The reason I haven’t finished it is because I don’t want to. It’s not compelling to me at this point and I can’t write something I don’t love because I can’t then expect anyone to want to read it. (Go read my other books. I love them.)

To better understand PTSD, it helps to understand a bit about memories. Memories live in the limbic system. This is a part of the brain that functions as impulses in nerves that are directly related to instinct and mood. It controls basic emotions and drives. It’s where motivation and learning happen. This is where emotions like fear, pleasure, anger and joy are found. It’s home to hunger, sex drive, dominance and the desire to nurture offspring. 

Memory isn’t just a mental thought, or visual memory. It’s a somatic reaction, which means, it affects your body. It’s folded into the process of encoding, storage and recall. 

Encoding is how we lay the groundwork to recall memories. It happens when we initially experience a situation. We see what is happening as a visual picture. We hear what is happening. We assign meanings to the experience. 

Memories need to be stored. Short term memory and long term memory will hold onto things differently. Either way, most insignificant details are easily forgotten. We’re just not meant to hold onto everything we observe. 

Recalling memories depends on where it was stored. Short term memory is usually sequential. In order to remember something insignificant that was done recently, it might help to retrace your steps. Long term memory is recalled by association. We might also recall taste, smell or texture. This is why you might forget how you got a specific cut on your finger, but you can look at the scar and know from other injuries whether or not it was significantly painful. It’s memory and deduction. You can’t remember everything, which is why so many memories fall away unless someone reminds you of that time you made really dumb choices while earning some nick name like, “La Freaka,” and lived to laugh about it. 

When you experience something painful or terrifying, those memories are a lot harder, if not impossible to forget. Being in a conflict or war zone, being assaulted, ongoing childhood or domestic abuse, serious health problems, exposure to traumatic events, difficult childbirth or infant loss and torture are not typically events that people can just walk away from. Everyone’s experience is unique to them, but one in three people that experience traumatic events develop post traumatic stress after it.  It’s not clear why exactly some people experience PTSD, and others do not, but there are clues to why we might experience it. 

Post traumatic stress disorder is a survival mechanism. It’s when your body and mind instinctively work to help you survive a recurrence of a traumatic experience. When someone experiences something that triggers an emotional flashback, they are forced to recall in detail the specific situation so you’re better prepared to face it again. Being hyper aroused, or “on edge” all the time is the result of a ready fight or flight response. This reaction helps to deaden your senses and dull pain. Your body is ready to react quickly, if needed. People with PTSD tend to have abnormally high levels of stress hormones. People suffering with PTSD continue to produce high amounts of fight or flight hormones, even when there is no danger. I find myself on edge when things are calm, because I don’t always know how to function out of stress.

The brain goes through changes as a result of trauma. The parts of the brain that deal with emotional processing are affected by trauma. This can actually be seen in brain scans. The hippocampus (partly responsible for memory and emotions) is smaller in size for those affected by PTSD. This is likely related to fear, anxiety, memory problems and flashbacks. The malfunctioning hippocampus doesn’t allow flashbacks and nightmares to be processed properly, decreasing the anxiety generated over time.

I’m in constant fight, flight, freeze and fawn right now. In December and January, I spent a lot of time sleeping. I slept all night and all day. The following month I started to get out and explore Bakersfield on day trips around town. The month after that, anxiety started affecting me in a huge way and I was clearly not in my window of tolerance most of the time.

It might be hard to understand what those behaviors look like, so I’m detailing what this experience has looked like for me.

Body armoring is the tensing of your muscles, prepared to fight or flight. It’s waking up with stiff muscles from tensing in my sleep. It’s tight muscle knots in my jaw from clenching my teeth while awake and asleep. I have plantar fasciitis, I’ve had carpal tunnel syndrome, neck and shoulder pain, and back pain. An interesting read on this is the book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Sean Pratt, Bessel A. van der Kolk, et al. (I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to insert backlinks tonight, and the search will do you good.) I’ve tried stretching, physical therapy, cortisol shots, chiropractic care and acupuncture. I also use cupping on acupuncture days to cope with the physical pain I experience.

I have moments of fighting. It’s a constant feeling of anger that is ready to pick a fight over any and everything. When my neighbor got ripped off by a company, I was making calls for him. I had an issue with a different company, so I was filing complaints or leaving terrible google reviews. I work really hard to keep my hands to myself and for the most part, I focus on being the best Karen I can be. There’s a place for all of us and so many people can use the additional help of a person that is willing to go the extra mile to get results. (I just reminded myself I need to contact Spectrum again, and the anger made me smile.)

I’m also a runner, taking flight from uncomfortable things and situations. I run away from home a lot. I’ve been unable to keep up with housework and it makes me want to avoid being home. I had a doctor’s appointment this morning and found stops all around town to avoid coming home. I spend most nights at home, but I’m usually away from home during daylight hours. Other times I have read novels non-stop, my record being five romance novels in one day. This means I forget to eat, or take care of my family. Lately I haven’t had the concentration to read or write for long periods of time. I ignore messages in messenger, via text and emails. I know it’s impossible to run from the anxiety that is within me, but I certainly try hard.

Freezing looks like the other morning when I was trying to boil some eggs for breakfast. I walked to the refrigerator and held the door open, looking at the eggs. The refrigerator beeped at me because the door had been open for too long, and it woke me from the moment I was stuck in. I went back to bed. This was done four times before I was able to boil the eggs.

Fawning or friending looks like trying to befriend the threat. In the ER the other night, there was a woman popping bubble wrap. It was bothering me. She began watching me as she popped them, enjoying my reaction as I jumped and was clearly bothered by it. She was bullying me. Rather than setting a boundary initially, I smiled at her, hoping she would stop. Eventually I just asked her to stop but at that point, I was on edge and wanted to grab her trachea to choke her out with my fist wrapped tightly around it. She wasn’t in danger. I have more self control than that, but I considered her death over bubble wrap even though I had been smiling at her just before that. I should have just set the boundary sooner. Ironically, the CT Scan with contrast, Chest X Ray, EKG, blood tests, dying cell phone, six hour wait, over heated waiting room, crying infant and moaning woman in pain didn’t bother me at all.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m not always nice and I’m not always sane. I can see how that is quite literally terrifying for other people and I am getting help.

Being in constant fight or flight, my body has been unable to rest and digest. My sleep patterns are all over the place, and I’m either running to the bathroom with the runs, or feeling constipated and gassy. A lot of times my gassiness is what makes me aware of my anxiety. It’s often so out of control, but it works out. When I’m feeling anxious and there are people too close to me in public. I just let off a little steam and they tend to back off. I’ve also been gaining weight because of this. Proper digestion isn’t possible at this time. Maintaining my weight or even losing weight isn’t possible at this time. When I went through my divorce, I was losing weight. As much as my body was stressed, I was within my window of tolerance.

I dissociate quite a bit. A lot of generation X has no memory of our childhoods. Our minds sometimes need to protect us from the things we’ve lived through. I also sometimes lose time. It’s usually when I drive somewhere. I will head out and end up somewhere, not remembering how I got there. It’s like I’m in self hypnosis, getting through traffic and following laws of transportation, but the aware part of my brain is disconnected and missing. In stressful times, I sometimes lose touch with my senses. It’s usually just when my fight or flight is aggressively triggered. It can feel like I’m sinking into myself and I can’t hear or see clearly. It’s like white noise is swallowing me. Sometimes white noise is soothing. Other times, it makes me anxious because of this experience. A lot of the time I feel very numb. I don’t always know what I’m feeling. Years ago, I would purposely watch chick flick movies just to cry. I wasn’t in touch with my feelings enough to feel them, but I could cry over some made up story on television. I have lost people over the last few years and couldn’t cry for many of them, no matter how important they are to me.

The anxiety attacks are the wildest ride I never wanted to get on. They never look the same, aside from the moments of dry heaving. Lately when I go to the store, I will park my car and start dry heaving. I don’t feel nauseous but my throat feels like I need to vomit. This happens daily. One time my chest felt icy cold before it felt like it was burning hot. It looks like car sickness. I sometimes speak so quickly that no reasonable person would understand me. I have chest pain and difficulty breathing, but my oxygen levels are fine. I panic when surrounded by strangers and I panic when I’m completely alone.

The other day I drove myself to the Emergency Room. I knew there was a good chance it was all in my head, and there was a possibility that I was having pulmonary embolisms again. My whole arm was swollen and I had to remove my rings. I was feeling light headed and dizzy. I was experiencing chest pain and leg cramps. If not for the swollen arm and sausage sized fingers, I would have done my best to ignore it. All of my lab-work and tests came back normal. At the doctor’s office today, I was told I’m physically healthy. My body and mind keep telling me I’m not, but PTSD lies to me all the time about my reality.

Right now is a fairly calm time in my life, considering the storm that was the last few years. It feels as though my body is waiting for the other shoe to drop, doling out a bit of the trauma it’s been holding onto for all of these years. I feel disconnected from my body because these anxiety attacks seem to happen when I’m calm and happy. It’s like my body has a red buzzer it slaps at random times to say, “just kidding,” when I feel at peace or joy.

My healing journey for the last several months has looked like medication for the second time in my life, and the first time since 2014. I’ve been in group therapy, learning about what makes me tick or triggered, and being intentional about getting outside and retraining my neural pathways. When something scares me, I go back out and do it again so I don’t reinforce a fear that was just in my head to begin with. I had a really bad anxiety attack at a Sam’s Club. I left the store and cried in my car because my mind was playing tricks on me. When I relayed the experience in group therapy, I couldn’t control the crying or dry heaving. I went back that day to show myself that it was safe and the fears are my imagination. It was hard. I also have an amazing support system that checks in me when I go quiet for too long.

Some days I find myself rocking back and forth to self soothe. The depression has been so bad that I’ve been hallucinating. I see lights here and there in my peripheral vision. I hear my name being called when there’s no one around to call it, or sometimes it’s a random word. I know nothing is there and I know sometimes hallucinations are a part of depression. If I were practicing Christianity, I could say I was hearing God’s voice. It’ll get better and I’ll go back to being quirky and interesting. I might try to convince myself I’m newly clairaudient and hearing voices is my life path. I haven’t decided.

I’m learning more about myself through the tools my therapists share with me. Most recently I’ve learned about Parts Work: An Illustrated Guide to Your Inner Life by Tom Holmes (2011). There are parts of me that make up my whole and sometimes these parts are strong and confident, and other times they are anxious and scared. Understanding gives me the ability to step back objectively and figure out the best ways to support my needs and strengthen the parts that should come forward to pull me through this.

The biggest lesson I’ve been struggling with during this time is self advocating. I can still do great things. I’ve just written a blog post that outlines some heavy material in a way that is hopefully easy to understand. I also have moments of instability where I need more support. The crazy part about invisible disabilities such as mental health is the part where you can barely function, but still have to let people know you need the help that they can’t seem to see you needing.

As I’ve always said, the key is to ask for help. Keep asking for help and ask other people if you need to. Never give up on getting better. There are people that need you in their life, even if they never remember to show or tell you. You matter. You are important and there’s no one else on this planet like you. We can do this.