I've been working on thriving...not just surviving!! I've done more research on the ACE study and finally found info on how to fight the physical effects in adulthood stemming from childhood abuse.
1) Get Psychotherapy. Don't quit until you are working well with the therapist. It took Mac and me several years to work well together...now we move mountains.
2) Take a lot of Omega 3's. Find a good source of fish oil, and take a lot!! All the essential fatty acids are great to reduce inflammation. (Chia seeds are great...better than flax)
3) Exercise, get moving! Slow is good at first, and I promise it will get easier and you WILL feel better!
4) If your sleep patterns are all goofed up, get help. Good sleep is ESSENTIAL to living a normal life span.
For those of you with high ACE scores (mine is an 8...or is it 9???) Eat healthy and think positive. Our brains just might be our best chance to fool the reaper.
I thought I'd post a few stories to demonstrate what it's like to live plural.
My House
I turn the knob and slowly enter the room. It’s pitch black, and I quickly reach for the light switch. As the light spreads, I gently set down my bags, and close the door, locking it. I am happy to see that everything is in place. No laundry on the couch, the plants are still alive, the books are all put away and the toys are in the toy box.
I leave my bags by the door, unwilling to unpack them. They'll be ready next time I leave. Being prepared is important. I’m not sure how long I've been gone. More than a few hours, and less than a week, I'm guessing.
Trying to identify the growing knot in my stomach, I go to the kitchen. I decide I must be hungry. Thankfully the dishes are done. I couldn't remember if I had done them or not. I automatically reach for a bowl. Cereal sounds good right now.
I stare in amazement in the cupboard I just opened. Where are the pretty, peach colored bowls that reside on this shelf? Why do I see cans of green beans and sweet potato?
On the second shelf, where my plates go, I see dried beans, rice and pasta. These things belong in the pantry! I swing around to open the pantry doors. In front of me are pots and pans! The food is gone! I’m not sure if I’m scared or angry. Who has the right to rearrange my cupboards without asking me?
Now I am wildly opening my cupboards, and seeing where everything is. All thoughts of food flee, as in a rage I begin to put everything back where it goes. Some time later,
I sink to the floor, exhausted. I'm shaking like a leaf, and in great need of some water. At least now I know where the glasses are!
I decide it’s time for bed. I'm too tired to do anything else. I've calmed down now, as I make my way down the hall towards the bathroom. All I want to do, is to brush my teeth, and go to sleep. Even now, it is such an effort to put one foot in front of the other. As I turn the light on, I'm dumbfounded to not find my yellow toothbrush. I guess I can go get the one out of my bag, but that doesn't tell me where my yellow one is. I ALWAYS keep one here and in my travel bag. As a second thought, I look in the medicine cabinet. There it is, but I have no clue why it’s in there. Oh well, I’m too tired to care. As I brush, I keep smelling mint flavored roses, ugh! I know where the mint is coming from, so after rinsing, I sniff again, and search for the roses. I don't like roses; everyone knows that, don’t they? I find rose scented bath salts and fling them into the trash. I hate baths too! If I have to smell them, they will at least be out of sight!
As I turn towards the door to go out, I see an unfamiliar nightgown and robe hanging on the hook behind the door. I put that hook there, why does it betray me? I’m shocked at my thought processes. How could the hook do anything to me? But it’s the only sensible thing to think! As I hold them out and look them over, I realize with a shudder, that they are my size, but they're way too skimpy to be mine. Where did they come from?
This is MY house! No one has the right to mess with MY house, MY things, or MY head. I realize with a blaze of anger that messing with my head is what really bothers me
the most. I don't mind it that someone house sits when I'm gone, but I think they should leave MY stuff alone, and leave things as they find them! Is that asking too much? I march into the bedroom, to see what else I can be mad about, but as usual, my anger is short lived. I find I'm too afraid to be angry. There is a new picture on the wall, MY wall. MY simple light blue comforter has been destroyed. Someone has bleached it, and painted it. Now it has lavender and blue hydrangea on a pale yellow and ecru background. As I look closely at it, I see that it really is beautiful. It is something I would have done, if I'd thought of it. Maybe I can get used to it, I think, as a smile forms on my lips.
I sit on the bed to think. I know this is MY house, because it just is. Besides, I checked the address outside. There are some things that no one has messed with. Most everything looks normal. No one has done me any harm in the changes I found in the house. Well, except the rose stuff. The kitchen was an inconvenience I didn't need, but no real harm. Besides, I left some of the things as I found them. They were placed in better spots than where I'd put them.
I am starting to get the feeling that I've done this before. It feels that way, anyhow. It’s the head stuff. I’m not comfortable with finding my things messed with. But, I now realize, that rarely has anything of mine disappeared. I've always found everything. And, almost ALL the changes I find, are good ones. Well, except the roses…. How will she feel when I'm gone, to find her bath salts in the trashcan? I go back to the bathroom, retrieve the stinky salts, and place it back on the counter. I feel better.
I sit on the bed again, I'm not done thinking. I know I go away a lot. The house does needs to be kept up when I'm gone. Someone is obviously doing that. So what’s the problem? I guess the fact that she doesn't ask permission when she changes things. It’s the head stuff again. No respect. My wishes or needs don't matter. I don't have any control over my life. She acts like she has every right to do as she pleases in MY house. It’s not fair!!!
Whoever said life is fair? I must write that down, and stick it where I can read it often. I seem to forget so easily. I sigh, a long and audible sigh. I am so tired. Tired physically of being confused, afraid, and angry. I'm too tired to think any more. My thoughts wander with my eyes, and I spy a book on the nightstand. I guess things could be worse. I smile as I realize she could enjoy boring books. As I pick it up and lay back on the pillow, I exclaim out loud, “hey, I've been wanting to read this book for a long time!!
Crystal
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