The Rabbit Hole

Trigger warning: Sexual Abuse, PTSD, Flashbacks

PTSD Flashbacks are ugly little beasties. They grab the softest part of your memories and hop down the nastiest Rabbit Hole. We've taken many such journeys over the years and we've come to peace with one other. I respect their need to process. If I'm patient, when they are done, I am a little more whole. My memories fall into a peaceful order. The fresh terrors find their place in the proper old memory storage and finally find a place to rest. After 35 years in this process I have learned to be grateful.

My first Flashback was December 1, 1985. It began a spiral that ended sometime in September 1987.

December 1985, a friend from grade school committed suicide. Two months later, February 1986, a friend from church committed suicide.  In May, a classmate accidentally drowned while helping a family with their boat. Another friend from church crashed a motorcycle into a parked van in June. He was in critical condition for weeks. The final straw arrived in November 1986, a mentor and brilliant musician from church committed suicide.

Fall of 1986 found me in the first year of college. Struggling through sociology class, I chose to write a paper about suicide for extra credit. As I delved into the whys and wherefores of the choices my friends made, a tragic chain of events loomed.  I met a boy as I researched. The acquaintance turned into harassment that bordered on stalking. I in my own oblivion, did not recognize the danger.

One night under a beautiful December sky, my boyfriend at the time wanted to defend me. I would not allow it. He demanded, “When are you going to stop letting people walk all over you?”

A switch flipped in my head and I crumbled into his lap. A childhood memory flooded my consciousness with overwhelming sensations. An uncle crossed the line of innocence. My body no longer belonged to me. I lived in it, but my uncle owned it. As I relived that moment, my reality was challenged. I did not have the tools to navigate any of it. Home life had its own reality and often my inner self was not my own. Within this Wonderland reality and truth did not always coexist.  Sanity held together by thin threads frayed to reveal a gaping black hole.

To say that I was a mess was an understatement. At 19, attempting to be an adult is challenging enough; introduce life altering incidents with a dash of questionable reality. This perfect recipe of disaster turned me into a mental Chernobyl.

The next thing I remember is February 1987. My boyfriend and I had a fun date planned. We stopped by for a quick lunch and the usual make out session before our adventure.

I remember eating lunch.

The next thing I remember we were in his room and to use baseball metaphor, Home plate was in sight. I froze. I couldn't move. I could barely breath. I whispered, "No."

The Home Run was made.

I experienced my Second Flashback. This time I was younger and the innocence exposed was different and more painful. Like the one my 18 year old body was experiencing. I felt the fabric of my mind shatter into a million pieces. I tried to move. No matter how much I willed it in my mind neither body in the flashback or in the real could move. When he was finished, we dressed and went on with our day.

Neither of us actually sure of what the other experienced. I know we have opposing memories of the day.

In the months that followed my sanity continued to slip away. I remember nothing of my second semester of college or most of that summer.

A confrontation transpired with The Parentals in Wonderland about my boyfriend. They spoke their judgment. I knew how I felt, what I thought was true. Their point of view and mine didn't exactly match, but I knew something was very wrong. The more I fought, the more my grip on reality slipped. I had to survive. I had to live. I would figure out what the truth might be at another time.

I was at the bottom of this rabbit hole. I found a truth I could admit.. I would never be the person he needed. I didn't even know if I would survive. We both wanted to make healthier relationship choices than our parents. In my attempt to recover and heal, I was destroying him. I was destroying myself. An amicable or gracious exit was impossible.   

I had to let him go. I allowed Insanity to reason out the break up. I said some  horrible things about him. My private meltdown became public and there were many casualties.   

Over the years, my thoughts wander to that boy left behind. I wish him all the happiness our loving Creator has for him. I will hang onto this truth: In order for he and I to become the people we wanted to become, we needed to walk different paths.

Travel well my friend, wherever you are.  

Damned Joy

Originally published September 12, 2011

Offered to perform play in LA my apprehension took form of a dandelion puff leaning into a slight breeze. I grew up in an environment where worth was measured by the amount of disappointment a person created. This pattern fueled the trap I found myself in. I was asked to portray on stage my greatest lifelong abuser, a "righteous" Christian. After many years of therapy, medication, and prayer, I walked away from this type of Christianity. Taking this role would put all of that work in jeopardy. 

I vigilantly sought wisdom, I found peace. I felt His hand take mine. I understood He had a purpose for this dark path: "Learn compassion." 

Each time I examined this character’s motivation, wrote her thoughts, or spoke her words: I experienced anxiety. It started as a cricket crawling around my sternum. As the show loomed, anxiety became pulsing electricity. I knew I needed help and support from those around me. I asked. The show was taxing everyone. I realized help would need to come from outside of the show.

During tech week the question screamed in my head each day during the two hour drive there: "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I was asked," I replied.

"That's not good enough. Why are you walking through hell just to make someone else happy? What is in it for you?" The voice retorted.

"I don't know," was all I could utter.

During my research, I stumbled upon a Bradley Cooper on Inside Actor's Studio. He said, “The Joy is the work.”

This work brought me none.

Women, like the character I played, walk in a difficult Christianity. They wrestle daily with an obsession of being "right" in the eyes of God. Righteousness is measured through actions:

Martha's actions in Luke are condemned, Mary's are held as ideal.

The Proverbs 31 Woman is the definition of a good wife and mother.

Their view of forgiveness is skewed. When in the wrong, they only need to pray, asking God for forgiveness. They can never wrong their neighbor if they are right with Jesus. No conflict exists. The impact upon others is irrelevant. Their backs bend under this weight of legalism and fear. True peace and joy is impossible. In getting to know this character, I felt a deep compassion for those who live this type of Christianity.

Joy was in discovery.

Even though twenty years have passed, LA still feels like home. Everyone is inadequate, has a therapist, attends a recovery group, and is not afraid of being a "Hot Mess." I learned more about my shortcomings and inabilities and found freedom in facing them.

Joy was in the process. 

Photo from NY times article

Guarding the streets around the theater, I met Lewis, a 6'10" former NCAA Final Four basketball player. Homeless for the past 10 years, his patrols keep the area safe. He will not accept money he does not earn, is a beautiful storyteller and kind listener. Ase and Zaney have a new standard for washing a car, after watching him work. GirlyK will remember him as he danced with her and two friends. The four of them strutted the sidewalk and sang "Party Rock Anthem" at the top of their lungs. 

A Facebook friend came to see the play. Tahnee gave me unearned friendship my senior year. Walking between classes she told me one day, "Ya know, everything I heard about you is not true. I like you."

It was the single best moment of my high school experience. We spent hours catching up in a coffee place on Orange and Vine.

Lewis and Tahnee filled me with overwhelming Joy.

By the closing weekend, anxiety overpowered logic. Flashbacks of past condemning confrontations and absolute rejections shattered my grip on reality. The doors of insanity burst open.  Both nights on closing weekend, I raced to my car, curled up in a ball and sobbed for thirty minutes. I rode out those memories my brain thrust into view. As the waves of crippling anxiety washed over me God whispered, "Ride it out." When it was over, I still existed.

Joy was in survival.

I write this with significant cracks in my sanity and realize: Father was with me. Jesus carried all of my pain with Him on the Cross. He knows what a reality split feels like. Holy Spirit was an ever-present help in my time of trouble. Those old wounds feel drained of infection and cauterized. For the first time in years I have access to tears. I am better acquainted with my limits. Never again will I be afraid to express them.

Joy was in understanding Divine Love.

As I read the latimesblog and backstage reviews about the play:  it occurred to me that I could have survived as a working actress. Had I taken those few acting opportunities when I lived in LA, back when I was young and with stars in my eyes, my life might have looked differently. I know it wouldn't have been much, but a commercial here and there could have bought groceries once in a while. Knowing is good enough for me.

Joy was in realizing this possibility.

In the end I was granted Joy in an unexpected place.

Loving Hostile People

Originally posted on March 15, 2009

To love hostile people is something followers of Jesus are called to do, but most of the time it is nearly impossible. Armed with Sunday School lessons and my own strength, I fail miserably. In a particularly difficult moment a cried to Holy Spirit and wisdom flew into my aching soul.

A practical outline formed as I pressed into that Blessed Fount: how to overcome resistance, bitterness, rejection and wounding. A how to act as a result of being released into a grace expressing life.

First, I am to love my enemies and pray for them.  If love is action, then it is the foundational attitude. I am to act in kindness in spite of what another does to me. Holding in my thoughts that everyone does what is right in his own eyes. The consequence is a type of blindness that doesn't allow them to see what their actions’ effect is.

Jesus said, "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing."  Following Christ's example leads me to not judge. A friend explained it this way; anytime a conclusion is drawn about someone, that is a judgment. I need to remember, that I do not know their purpose.  It is not my responsibility to interpret their motives. If I draw a conclusion tainted by my own pain and then condemn them, I judge and condemn unfairly.  It is better for me to choose to not get even which is forgiveness and act in love toward them which would be mercy.

With that attitude adjustment in place, a look at myself is in order. Do I have a log in my eye?  Do I lend without an expectation of payback. If I act in kindness toward a person I struggle with, I cannot expect them to reciprocate. Remembering that my inheritance is in Father, He will pay me back. Acting in love towards those who love me in return is no challenge at all. 

This does not mean becoming a doormat. In looking at Jesus and how he interacted with the Pharisees; he was always kind, truthful, and extended grace to them. Yet, he did not allow them into His inner circle. There is no need to vulnerable with those whose intent is not healthy for me. I have permission to protect myself. It can look like silence. 

Look at Christ's example: when Jesus was arrested at night and tried with false witnesses, both against Jewish law. When confronted by the Pharisees, Jesus turned their own laws against them in John 18:19-24:

"Meanwhile, the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. 

'I have spoken openly to the world,' Jesus replied. 'I always taught in synagogues or at the temple, where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret.  Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.'  

When Jesus said this, one of the officials nearby struck him in the face. 'Is this the way you answer the high priest?' he demanded. 

'If I said something wrong,' Jesus replied, 'Testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?"

Jesus knew what was truth.  He knew Father had a plan and chose to obey it at all costs.  Confident that in the end justice would prevail. When faced with injustice, I need to remember the truth Holy Spirit speaks to me. I can turn the other cheek and not respond to their judgments or criticisms. Secure in what God is doing in me.

My response can be praying for them. If there is a practical need, meet it.  When interaction occurs, reply with words of kindness. All the while, letting God work out the justice.

Peace of Mind

Originally posted May 26, 2009

With so many cultural distractions and stresses, it is almost impossible to find a place of peace.  Bookstores are filled tomes on how to find this allusive tranquility of mind.

I believe in a loving Creator God who has a plan for all human kind and created laws for us to follow. Paul wrote to the people in Philippi living in a metropolis filled with diversity. As these Philippians grew in faith, Paul encouraged the anxious believers in Christ by giving them a practical method of finding peace in their tumultuous culture.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally… whatever things are true … noble …just …pure … lovely … good report … virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy – meditate on these things.”   Philippians 4:6-8. 

Whatever I am anxious, worried, stressed, puzzled or disturbed about, that concern is taken and turned into a prayer through writing, praying aloud, meditation, the ways to express it are endless. The method doesn’t matter; the subject is laid before a Being Greater than myself.

Second is to focus on good things, anything wonderful, beautiful, or positive. God is the source of all things good. I allow the unpleasant thing to pass and focus on something else-the thoughts are captured and put in submission to Jesus. As I discipline my mind to change focus the Holy Spirit is allowed to move.  The sweet breath of Holy Spirit brings peace on my troubled soul. The Spirit counsels me on what to do next. Sometimes it is immediate. Sometimes it is later. Most of the time, my attitude changes but sometimes the situation will change.

I pray you will see God the Creator, Jesus the Word and Holy Spirit the Counselor in your lives today.