Alexis Rose's Blog, page 16

Learning the art of saying, “no”

Before I was diagnosed with PTSD, I had been pretty good at saying, “no.” I was working full-time, raising a family, and was extremely busy. If I was invited to an event or asked to join a committee in the evening, it was easy for me to say, “I would love to do (that), but I just can’t fit it into my schedule right now. ” I didn’t feel that I was being rude, or isolating myself, or not participating in society at large. If I wasn’t interested or couldn’t do something,  I said, “no.”

Getting easily overwhelmed, and triggered is one (of many) symptoms that is front and center of my PTSD. I love the idea of going to new restaurants, concerts, plays, monthly writing gatherings, trying new classes, and attending house party celebrations. I’m interested and I’m grateful for the invitations.  I want to say, yes and sometimes I do; but I’ve noticed that I’m having a hard time saying, “thanks for the invitation, but no thank you. Now when I say no, I find myself feeling guilty and anti-social. Those feelings are triggers and old self-destructive messages. I need to be careful that I don’t press play and begin to listen to the tapes of, all the reasons I’m a failure and can’t control this illness.

I’m not sure what changed. My family and friends do not put any pressure to accept or decline invitations. I appreciate that they ask me to participate in events and gatherings. They don’t forget me or assume I’m going to say no.

In the meditation part of a yoga class the other day,  all I could think about (when I wasn’t supposed to be focused on thinking) was how I didn’t want to go to another class later that day. I was afraid I would hurt someone’s feelings if I said, no. Before my illness, I would have said, “no thank you, I already do a yoga class on Tuesday mornings, so I don’t want to do another one in the evening.

Now, I find myself stumbling when asked to do something.  In recent years,  I ‘ve had to cancel some pretty significant commitments, or have had a really hard time coping once I’m at an activity. I have had to leave early, or I have had to say, “I’m really overwhelmed and don’t feel safe.” When that happens, I feel terrible and very disappointed in myself. I feel like a burden to my friends and family and I feel so…mentally ill.

Intimate gatherings and going to familiar places are recipes for social success for me. If I do go to places that have the potential of becoming overwhelming or triggering, I make sure to go with a good support person. I have some really good coping tools that I employ on a regular basis, but sometimes all the tools and good intentions don’t work as well as I hope when my symptoms begin to ramp-up.

I need to relearn how to say, no without feeling guilty or shame. Recently, I said no to an invitation and the person was quite taken aback. I said, “I’m sorry, I can’t participate in that, I’m doing the best I can, and I just can’t do that right now.” She stopped, for a moment, and said, “of course you are.” All was fine as we continued our conversation, but I felt intense shame for saying, the words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

Since that day, I have been watching what invitations I have been accepting, and paying attention to how I feel when I say, no. I’m sure this is all another layer of accepting my PTSD and learning to  live with, not fight against my symptoms, but I find I need to relearn the art of saying, “no.”

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Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

Leaving the nest with lessons from the flowers

Stretching and flapping her strong wings

this is the eve of our youngest bird

preparing to fly far from the nest.

Across the country

the hallowed halls of law are ready to take our bird

on her chosen path; her next life steps.

I know that as she embarks on this exciting

unknown journey that our little bird will

take with her the lessons from the flowers.

She will persevere and grow

Silently displaying her inner beauty and strength

She will reach towards the sun, hold fast during storms

and live life fully in bloom.

Fly free little bird. Enjoy, and remember the lessons from the flowers.

[image error]©Alexis Rose, Photo by Chloe Si on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Our Teachers

I feel grateful and humbled

by the teachers that  I have  along the way.

They give me strength, wisdom

and extraordinary courage  to spread my  wings and fly. 

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©Alexis Rose, Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

 

Monday Mantra

Your inner beauty, your strengths

and your talent

Far outweigh any deficits

you may have.

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©words/photo: Alexis Rose

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Comfortably Uncomfortable

I am comfortably uncomfortable in this waiting place of whats next.

Feeling the winds of change continue to whisper softly that it will be okay.

Trusting that in the past when I’ve listened to my inner restlessness, I’ve been able to author my own personal growth adventure, instead of stagnantly waiting for someone to tell me that this is whats next for you.

Pressing the pause button so I could slow down, evaluate whats been working for me and what I’ve been doing that no longer fills my cup. Setting myself up to listen to the whispering winds of change. Uncomfortable as that is.

Hearing the words of a lifelong friend telling me the truth, widening the picture for me with the force of dynamite because I had developed a bad case of tunnel vision. Those wise words, love the one your with, seared into my head and heart.

Knowing that it takes a long time to practice acceptance and self-compassion and that each day that I uncomfortably go there, I rewire my active lizard brain, contracted muscles, and tattered soul.

Mindfully taking the time to be active, to rest, to play, to listen, or to just be with no judgment.

This time going through the slow change and growth process is not as scary as it would have been in the past. I have developed patience.

I have learned to trust myself and I welcome the reality that right now I’m living in the waiting-place and contentedly feeling comfortably uncomfortable.

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Photo by Marc-Antoine Dépelteau on Unsplash


Thank you for reading my books:  If I Could Tell You How It Feels , and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Reunited…and the conversation started where it left off

By chance of the alphabet, we sat next to each other as young children in school.  We instantly bonded and became the best of friends. Together, we learned how to navigate the social awkwardness of middle and high school. The highs and lows of liking boys, and figuring out how and where to fit in with the other girls. Always knowing that we had each other, no matter what the other cliques were doing. Her house a warm escape from the terrors of my own existence.

The day I turned seventeen, I moved to another state. Standing in her driveway, I got into my brother’s car. Waving goodbye, we drove away, going to a place that I had barely heard of, and didn’t know a single person. My best friend, my rock, my place of refuge moving further and further away in the rear-view mirror.

Those first years after I left, on the phone and in letters we shared how it felt to move out and get our first apartments, the excitement of coming of age, dancing the nights away, and sharing the news of new loves, and then loves heartbreak.

In our twenties, we meet our mates and begin the next step in adulthood.  Marriage and children occupied our time, but whenever we talked, we could always slip back to the cadence of girlish laughter, shared memories, the ease of a forever friend.

Then life took us on different paths. Our bond was still strong, but now we are not only separated by geography, but also by responsibility, needs, and exploring different lifestyles.

Both of us personally struggle with tragic and ever-changing family events, we try to keep in touch but it’s sparse and quick. We knew that it was okay because we silently trusted that this was also a part of the life of our friendship. No matter the time and distance the embers of that unbreakable bond were still glowing. A forever lit coal, just waiting.

Finally, after decades apart we are able to come together. We have been able to spend days and nights catching up. So much has changed in our lives. It hasn’t been easy for either of us. The trials of life, of health, of death, of finding our inner strength.

The wonderfulness is that instantly we are able to be ourselves. No need for uneasiness, or putting on any masks. It’s easy to be with that one person who knew you at the beginning when life was both easy and complicated. It reminds me of the feeling of exhaling after holding your breath underwater and bursting to the surface. The hug of that one person who knows your history; has lived through your history with you, and because of that understands and accepts the why and how you navigate some of life’s events.

Even though we may have aged decades, when I look at her, I still see that same person sitting next to me that first day in school. The sparkle in her eyes, the silly smile, and laugh that comes easy and quick are still there; no change.  She is still the same steady rock, who is that calm, let’s not worry about things we cant change person, to my let’s try to control everything.

We can still get in the car and cruise around and talk and talk and talk. We can take silly pictures, and laugh, feeling young, carefree, no worries in the world. We can also cry and feel the pain for what we’ve had to endure, and for the present trials in our own lives, our children lives, or our loved ones. We can go through all the emotions in a matter of an hour. It’s easy, it flows, it’s safe, it’s trusting.

After many decades, we have reunited, and the conversation picked up where it left off!

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Enter the Garden

Enter the garden

which grew out of friendship

trust, and tender care.

The delicate petals hold our secrets

gently and safely urging

us to let go, grow, and breathe

the colors of peace.

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©Alexis Rose, image source: Pixabay

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Just do your best; You’ll find your how!

Change is a fact of life. Our bodies change, as do our cognitive abilities. Sometimes we embrace change, but sometimes change can be frightening. The fear of the unknown and the anticipation of what might be can be paralyzing; the feeling of vulnerability can prevent us from moving forward.

A good friend of mine has been going through extraordinary grief and change the past year. Loss of many kinds, including her mother whom she had an extremely close relationship with, aging in a society where becoming a woman of a certain age can make you feel irrelevant, and also she is experiencing a bit of spiritual uncertainty. Big.Tough.Stuff!

As we were talking yesterday, I found the best thing I could do was to silently offer myself as her mirror. The grief is (appropriately) palpable, but she is also doing some wonderful things both for herself and the community. Personal growth, and being of service to others is one of the constants in her day-to-day life. Sometimes, in the muck and mire of what life throws at us, we forget to see, and often don’t acknowledge that what we do matters.

I go through feelings of irrelevance and self-doubt a lot. Especially when I can feel I am on the cusp of change. Right now, I have hit the pause button on many outside activities in my life. As I work to reconnect with myself; my center, I notice that my interests are heading in a different direction than they have been the past few years. That’s a natural progression for me, as I learn and grow. But, it’s also a bit scary. Although I still could be quite satisfied with the path I have been on, I’m also anxious to listen to what it is I may want to do next.

I find right now, that I am feeling the wind of change calling to me. Just as I was purposefully trying to be a mirror for my friend yesterday, I find Im also seeking out the mirrors in my life. The ones who reflect back who I am without any masks. The person I have been working hard to become, without feeling shame, the need for perfection or control, but who can also firmly set personal boundaries.

As my friend and I were talking, she was describing to me an extremely intensive class she will soon be taking. I started to think about the things I’m willing to let go of now, and the absolute openness of what will come next. Both of us began to get a bit stressed and animated over the, “how are we going to get through this?”

As my friend got up to grab some water, out of my mouth, from somewhere in that wise-mind of mine, I heard myself say the words, “Just do your best – You’ll find the how!”

I think really it was just a random thought that was passing by, but the words came out, and we just starred at each other in silence, stunned into the connectedness of knowing that it will be okay. What happened next? We sat quietly next to each other, understanding that with change comes uncertainty. But that uncertainty only requires us to do our best, and trust that the how will reveal itself in its own perfect timing.

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Photo by Mārtiņš Zemlickis on Unsplash

 

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

 

 

Oh, There I Am!

To experience and not think

Feeling the breath of the wind

and the chop of the wave

Listening to the stillness

with no need for words

Playing and giggling with glee

at the simple taste of a grape

To rest and not judge this moment

or the next…or the one after that

To connect with the trees, water, fire, and land

To leave worry and doubt behind

To Just Be, Just Breathe

Oh, There I Am!

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©words and photo: Alexis Rose

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Fireworks and PTSD

We are heading into the weekend before the 4th of July.  The holiday lands on a Wednesday this year. The firework store billboards are now up, looming huge on the side of the road, and the fireworks-stands seem to pop up out of nowhere in the parking lot of strip malls. Business must be pretty good, because already many, many people are shooting off fireworks and firecrackers at all hours of the day and night.

I understand the fun and enjoyment some people may have from setting off fireworks. Although there are many legal fireworks for sale in the state where I live, there is a never-ending supply of both legal and illegal varieties lying in wait for the excited revelers to buy just across our state-line. There you can purchase the big ones, the percussion of which shakes the houses in the neighborhood.

We have become accustomed to many of our local county fairs shooting off a fireworks display at the end of the night before they close down for the day. But over the last few years, people are shooting them off at random times during the day, and the night. Sometimes at midnight or later, we will hear a loud percussive blast coming from somewhere in the neighborhood. Just one, loud blast that jolts you from sleep, and can cause great distress for animals, and young children.

Unfortunately for some of our combat veterans, the random fireworks/firecrackers going off can be extremely anxiety provoking and be triggering. For some vets with post-traumatic stress disorder, that string of firecrackers may sound like automatic weapons fire, and the big explosions may sound like the IEDs that threatened so many of their lives.

Flashbacks are a horrible reliving of past traumatic events. When you are setting off these illegal fireworks, chances are there is someone hearing them who are struggling with their combat-related trauma.  If you are unable to resist the urge to set-off those huge explosions, then please consider driving out somewhere that is less populated.

For many dogs, the sounds reverberating off the other houses can often make them disoriented and traumatized.  Their stress level becomes unbearable and some of our animals run away or get lost. There are numerous stories about the many dogs winding up in shelters, especially during the days right before and after the 4th of July.

If this is happening in your neighborhood, try talking to your neighbors who are setting off the big ones, or write them a letter. Many people don’t know that they are harming some of our vets, scaring our little children, or making our animals shake with fear.

In many neighborhoods where I live, the 4th of July has gone from, the ooh and ahh of fireworks displays at the local parks, to a lot of houses on almost every street having their own sunup to sundown fireworks/firecrackers celebrations.

People who suffer from PTSD, (whether it is combat-induced or trauma-related) will try to do what they can to take care of themselves over the next week. I’m trekking off to the secluded boundary waters canoe area for four days, coming back after the 4th.

Please be courteous when setting off your fireworks and firecrackers at your home. Be thoughtful not only of our veterans but also the small children, the elderly, pets, and others who may suffer from illness and startle easily.

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Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph