Alexis Rose's Blog, page 26

Take my Hand

Take my hand to hold

your thoughts, fears

dreams, and wishes.

I will hold them while you rest.

Squeeze my hand

when the tears run down

your cheeks from the pain

of life.

I will squeeze back so you

know you are heard.

Grab my hand

when you feel like you’re

slipping into the abyss.

I will hold you steady

as you step back on solid ground.

Take my hand in friendship, love, and support.

Your thoughts, fears, dreams, wishes,

pain and unsteady gait are safe in my firm and steady grip.

[image error]©Alexis Rose, Photo by Natalie Collins on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

Why I Write

I’m in the (almost)  final steps of getting my next book ready for release. My final edits should be here this weekend. After making those edits, sending the last pages to my beta readers, having my proofreaders take a go at it, and meeting with my artistic collaborator I believe I will be ready to release it out into the world this January.

My movie-writing partner and I are in the pitching phase of selling our screenplay. We are getting little nibbles from production companies and receiving lots of support, to keep going. That continues to be a wonderful experience. We have learned to grow very thick skin while trying to stay in a beginners mind and keeping our sense of humor.

As I sit at my desk and reflect over the whirlwind of the past two years. Releasing Untangled, emerging from the shadows of silence, blogging, speaking to groups,  pitching a movie project, and now preparing to release another book, I ask myself, Why do I write?

When I speak to groups and open it up for questions, I’m almost always asked, what made you write a book, or have you always been a writer? The answer to both is, “no!” I never wrote anything beyond copy for ads or random newsletter articles for my jobs before 2011. I didn’t keep a journal, never was a huge letter writer, I really never gave writing a thought.

When I began therapy my therapist suggested that I journal. Most of us have been told by our therapist’s to journal our thoughts and feelings. I despised journaling. I would become so emotional because often, the pages looked like one big opus for wanting to end my life. I would literally tear up the pages after I wrote them, despondent because I couldn’t separate my feelings from what I wanted to write about. It was all emotion and no substance, no thoughts, no depth and it felt destructive. So I refused to continue to journal.

But, I found myself writing emails to my therapist and we would talk about them at our next session. It was becoming evident that I was looking for a way to write down my thoughts. My therapist went to a conference on PTSD. At the conference, he learned that when clients journaled on a keyboard, (not pen and paper) that it was easier for them to keep journaling. The act of using a keyboard was incorporating bilateral stimulation which helped put some distance between the terrible trauma and intense feelings and they were able to keep writing longer. That made perfect sense to me, so I began to use writing as a healing tool.

Writing gave me the courage I needed to address the pain I was feeling. I would write even when I thought I had nothing to write about. At first, I strictly used it for bilateral stimulation. I would write and send what I wrote off to my therapist. I started to find that I was able to write down what I couldn’t say aloud.  At first, I think it provided distance from having to use my voice, but then I found it actually gave me a voice.  When I still couldn’t speak a truth, I found if I read it out loud to my therapist, that I was speaking the truth.

Eight years after that first assignment to journal on a keyboard, I have written four books, have a number of published articles and enjoy engaging on my blog. I reflect on writing from a different perspective. Now, I write because I love to share what I’m thinking, feeling or musing over. I write because I’ve had feedback from others, to help give them a voice, to put feelings into words that they may be unable to describe. Writing is a way to be seen and heard, especially by a group who suffers from mental illness and are often marginalized.

I write because I will no longer be shamed into silence. But, I also control the volume of my voice. I want to be effective in destigmatizing mental illness, invisible illness, for me, PTSD. I know that I’m a quiet word of mouth writer. It fits my personality. I love the writers who are more vocal and speak with confidence and often, they know the volume of their voice and can reach a much wider audience.

I write because it fills my cup, it satisfies my creativity and it keeps me connected to the world. I care deeply about what I write and share, hoping that the connection between us continues to grow. Sometimes that starts with a simple written word.

Why do you write?

 

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Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

 

 

 

Unmasking the Shadow of Fear

The shadow of fear

disguises itself as

a branch without leaves

waving in the dark of night.

Or the touch of the wind

grazing my cheeks when I turn a corner.

It’s the sound of a car

rolling slowly to a stop

behind me.

Or the person I see walking

in the distance who morphs into

a threat from long ago.

The shadow of fear at times

leaves me doubting

if breaking my silence was best.

Or if the truth was better left

in the dark, unsaid, silenced

in the protective bubble that

perpetrators depend on to thrive.

The Shadow of fear often brings

the past soaring into the present.

But then, the sun shifts.

I hear birds singing, children laughing

and a friend recounting their weekend.

The shadow retreats; withdrawals

to the edges, lurking, waiting

to see if the past will preside

or the cleansing exhale will bring

me back to the present, to the safety

of the here and now.

The shadow of fear has many disguises

and with time, I will eventually

unmask them all.

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©Alexis Rose, Photo by rawpixel.com on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

The flowers call to destiny

The flowers listen to their call of destiny.

They rise each morning, smile towards the sun

Embrace the visitors who walk along the path

And wink to the stars at night.

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©Alexis Rose, image: Pixabay

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

Inner Landscapes; A Place of Refuge

An inner landscape is a life you lead inside of yourself; a place no one else can go unless invited. Although it looks different for each of us, all inner landscapes have this in common: they are a place of refuge. If you look deep enough, you will be able to find the images in your mind of your inner landscape; your own place of power and peace.

Today is a day where being able to tap into my inner landscape and find peace is how I need to stay grounded.

My inner landscape is multi-dimensional and serves more than one purpose depending on how I need to restore, rest, empower and breathe. One part of my inner landscape is a field of flowers. That’s where I go when I need to feel at peace. It’s a place where I can rest and restore my inner resources because I feel safe and protected there, with very little noise coming from my busy monkey-mind that tends to nag at me during the day.

Mostly my inner landscape is peaceful, warm and sunny; although, I also have a cliff I go to that is rugged and barren. There is one leaf-less tree there with a few wisps of grass growing up around it, but otherwise, it is bare. The cliff is jagged, gray and very rocky with the sound of a turbulent sea splashing thunderous waves against the rocks. That’s the inner landscape I go to when my life is stormy and I’m dealing with challenges that I’m not quite ready to confront.

When I’m there, I hear my inner voice of self-doubt, self-judgment, and shame. It’s a place I go to when I know I need to look at things about myself that are comfortably uncomfortable but I’m not yet ready to change. I sit on the edge of my cliff and listen to the water crashing up against the rocks. Even though it is a place I go to when my life is stormy, I love my rocky cliffs and the crashing water that surrounds me.

My inner landscape is different from my happy place.

My happy place is where I go to help me face the typical stresses of daily life. Sitting in a traffic jam, going to the dentist, standing in a long line sends me to my happy place. That quick take a deep breath to stave off the frustration place that we go to. My inner landscape is a place I go to for reflection. A place where I go deep inside of myself.

Can you visualize your inner landscape, your own place of power and peace?

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Photo by Sergei Akulich on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

Giving thanks for….

Giving thanks for

breathing deep, feeling love and compassion

smiling at the innocence of a child

and appreciating the people

in our  lives who bring

peace, hope, and love to our world.

Photo by Chinh Le Duc on Unsplash

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Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

PTSD and Travel

With the holiday season upon us, there is a lot of traveling going on. Crowds are larger, increased stress around the holidays, delays, weather issues and heightened expectations are just some of the typical stressors many of us contend with, this time of year. If someone you know or love suffers from PTSD or other mental health issues,  perhaps this can shed some light on what they are trying to navigate (on top of the typical stressors) during this travel season.

I love the ocean. The sound of it feeds my soul and grounds me. I can sit and watch the ocean for hours. It touches something deep, deep inside of me. A knowing, a presence, a connectedness.

I live in Minnesota, which is nowhere near the ocean. When I get close to the ocean, and my senses begin to come alive, I know I’m now on vacation. Ahhh, vacation! I was once that person who worked to go on vacation. Road trip? Yep, I was the first person to raise my hand and jump in the car. I love to explore, I love new places, I love new people. I understand that my little corner of the world is not the be-all, end-all, and I want to see the world.

Then I was struck with PTSD and my whole world turned upside down. The things I did without thought have suddenly become a big production. I’m plagued with flashbacks, and my symptoms are easily triggered.

My trauma occurred over a 20-year period in many different places throughout the world. I can be triggered by certain smells, sounds, the way the wind blows, dialect, and many other things. Sometimes, that can start a flashback. Sometimes, I get disoriented and anxious, and sometimes it’s just a general feeling of knowing something’s off. When I’m at home, I can figure out ways to ground myself, get support or use one of the many tools in my distress tolerance tool-box to ride out the wave. When I travel, things are unfamiliar and it takes longer to come out of a trigger.

Another symptom of my PTSD is that I become overwhelmed in busy, loud, places — restaurants, for example. It’s very easy for me to get flooded by too many menu choices and a voracious appetite can become non-existent. Before, PTSD, I loved trying new food and going to restaurants that I wouldn’t have visited in my hometown.

Airports are triggering for me. The noise, the crowds, the upheaval, the lines. The anticipation of sitting in a tiny chair for a four-hour flight. The same anxiety that most others feel at airports is more pronounced for me. My anxiety is ramped up because my perpetrators often put me on a plane and sent me all over the world. So just by walking into an airport, it’s triggering. And yet, I love the speediness of getting to your vacation destination by flying, and how wonderful to be in this machine that flies in the sky. It’s part of the travel experience.

My support system is different when I travel. For my family, it’s often a good respite for them when I go out of town for a few days. It’s not an easy decision for them to let me go off without one of them accompanying me. So, a lot of moving parts must happen before I can hop on the plane. My support works together to provide text, phone or FaceTime calls with regular check-ins. I must be mindful and respect the times that are available, especially with a time change. It feels uncomfortable for me to know that I require this support.

I just want to jump on a plane, hide out at a beach for a few days and think, write, read and relax. It’s part of my fantasy travel experience. But the extra support is part of the give and take if I’m to travel right now, and I’m grateful for the opportunity and the support.

I understand that traveling with all my PTSD symptoms front and center is a huge challenge. But, I’m determined to have a great time, get my spirit renewed at the ocean, or spend some wonderful girl-time with a good friend. My intention is to look at the beautiful palm trees and fill my senses with the healing ocean air, and for just a few perfect moments, breathe with ease.

Traveling with PTSD is certainly a challenge, but not impossible.

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Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

 

 

as I travel along life’s path

Resting atop a snowy ledge

I watch a bird soar high above.

Drawing from his strength

I take a deep breath

and commit this landscape to memory.

I feel free, strong, and can conquer

whatever awaits me as I 

travel along life’s path. 

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©Alexis Rose, image source: Pixabay

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

 

 

Secrets of 1,000 Lifetimes

The secrets of 1,000 lifetimes

lay within those deep dark eyes.

When she sits upon the water

she shares her burden with the

ancient ears of the seas.

Breathing in, she closes her eyes

and feels the crest of the wave wash over her.

She is at Peace.

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©Alexis Rose, Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

 

 

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Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

 

Anatomy of a Flashback

Time of year, breaking news, the wind blowing a certain way…whatever the trigger

There is no telling when it is going to strike

Are they alive or dead?

Is that pain real or echoes from pain long ago that

resurface with a memory?

It feels like I’m being held hostage by my mind

Doesn’t matter what day, time, or year it is…the anatomy of my flashbacks

Are those smells real or is that a smell from a place and time

when I was being held against my will?

Am I really hearing the sounds of helicopters, planes, cicadas or birds?

Or it that the sound coming from a place that no longer exists and

should never be talked about?

Then it passes and I pull myself up the rope

Out of the clutches of PTSD and the skeleton hands of the past

that keep trying to pull me down

The anatomy of my flashbacks

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image source: pixabay

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph