Alexis Rose's Blog, page 48

The flowers listen to their call of destiny

The flowers listen to their call of destiny.

Rise each morning, smile towards the sun

Embrace the visitors who walk along the path

And wink to the stars at night.

alexis-rose

©Alexis Rose, photo: pixabay

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

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

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Published on September 14, 2016 06:57

The Trees Remind Her to Find Peace

She connects with the world

through her heart.

Tending to one flower

one smile, one child at a time.

As she walks through the woods

the sound of the trees remind her

to find peace and to trust the journey.

©Alexis Rose, photo: Shelley Bauer

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

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

View more on Alexis Rose's website »

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Published on September 12, 2016 06:41

Share Your Published Or Almost Published Book Event! #WWWBlogs @BloggersBlast @BloggerBees @BBlogRT

Marquessa is another wonderful community builder.

Simply Marquessa

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https://pixabay.com/en/banner-header-book-shelf-books-1559400/

*Sorry folks – I’m reposting this since the Comments section was missing! “

Did you put your blood, sweat and tears into writing a book and you are now a “published” author? Are you on the verge of being published and want to shout it out to the world?

Feel free to share information about your published book or “almost” published book and drop a link to where we can find it below!

We want to know!

M xoxo

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Published on September 10, 2016 15:56

March

Thank You Jason https://aopinionatedman.com for your continued support! Check out Jason’s blog Harsh Reality for an always interesting array of writings and opinions.

HarsH ReaLiTy

It would be interesting to have each of my siblings describe their experience of the week that my father died. It was the first time since my sister’s wedding ten years earlier, that all four of us were together for any length of time. And yet, there we were, keeping a five-day vigil at my father’s hospital bedside.

It was fascinating and frightening to watch my father move through the stages of dying. He was quite lucid as he called each one of us to his bedside and asked permission to die. He didn’t ask for forgiveness, or apologize for hurting us; he just wanted permission to die. As the doses of morphine increased he began to go in and out of consciousness. He was seeing and talking to his deceased family and his beloved cat. These were all ghosts to us, but they were real and comforting to him…

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Published on September 10, 2016 02:31

As the Seasons Change, Life with PTSD

For many, the beauty of Autumn is a season of crisp air and beautiful changing colors of trees set against a bright blue sky. Apples, everything pumpkin and spice and bonfires in the backyard. For me, the Fall brings triggers, triggers everywhere. I can appreciate the beauty of the season, but if the wind blows a certain way, or the leaves rustle on the ground it can hurl me into a world of pain. It’s the nature of the illness I live with every day.

Last night during therapy, my therapist, with great empathy stated, he hates PTSD because it brings me back to the past when I would rather live in the present. That felt extremely validating to me. I don’t try to get triggered and I’m always surprised when it happens. Then that old tape starts playing, what am I doing wrong that I keep getting triggered. Admittedly it’s different now as I’m learning to cope with my trauma, but it’s still awful. So to honor my feelings and not slink away in embarrassment I decided to write about what it’s like to live daily with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I received the diagnosis of PTSD about eight years ago, after a family tragedy. My daughter was hit by a van at 30 miles an hour as she was crossing the street on her way to school. She sustained major injuries, and her life has been altered, but she is with us and thriving.

The year following Aria’s accident I was busy with tending to her health, taking her to appointments, trying to work full time, and keep our household running as normal as possible. And at the same time, I kept having these experiences that were making me feel crazy. I had worked so hard to keep my life, my family and their world so protected that the instant Aria got hit, my controlled snow globe world came crashing down. In fact ,when my son and I were talking the day of the accident, he looked at me and innocently said, “things will never be the same again.” Extremely prophetic words, that at the time myself nor my family had any idea what they would come to mean.

I was becoming anxious. I started losing time, I was called into meetings at work because my performance was terribly erratic. I was physically sick all the time and kept having these bizarre memories leaving me feeling crazy. I knew something was seriously wrong with me so I made a call to a psychologist who agreed to see me the next day.

When I first started seeing my therapist I was dissociated most of the time. I was in crisis, I was anxious, confused, and convinced I was going crazy. After a couple of sessions, it became apparent to him that we had to get some safety plans in place. Once that was in place we could begin the process of working on and processing my trauma.

I (sort-of) started to come to terms with the idea that my erupting memories, were in fact, true. I was so overwhelmed by my memories and what we would process during my session that I would remember, forget, remember, forget; until I started to turn a corner and forget how to forget. That’s when I found I could really start taking the baby-steps towards health.

Not only was my therapy about processing the memories, I also had to start accepting that there were some pretty intense effects of the trauma and that influenced how I saw and reacted to the world. I knew I had some pretty deep-rooted trust issues. I had large, thick, almost impenetrable walls holding back any feeling or emotions that I was willing to let the world see.

I also had to face down how my trauma affected my relationships with my family, friends, parenting style, and career. In the midst of dealing and coping with the trauma, there were a lot of AHA moments, when I saw how my behavior and ways of coping with life, had been a direct result of my trauma and not because I was a bad person.

Eight years later and one of the biggest reasons I write is because my PTSD symptoms still have a pretty good choke-hold on me. As with many mental illnesses, PTSD can be invisible on the outside. I had always been the master of wearing many masks, and deflecting any conversation away from me, all with a supportive smile for everyone else. But when I couldn’t hide my illness any longer my friends began to ask me, what does it feel like inside. I couldn’t really explain it, so I wrote a poem and shared it with my friends and family. I found that by writing I found a way to share with others and begin to understand what PTSD means for me, and find a way to cope with my fear that I would be plagued by the symptoms forever.

My symptoms include (not limited too) flashbacks, concentration issues, becoming overwhelmed and my brain shutting down, not being able to make choices, anxiety/depression, and sensitive to the triggers that start the whole shebang of symptoms. We use the term, triggers, triggers everywhere. The wind can blow a certain way, or fireworks, or a car backfiring, even the moon can bring on flashbacks.

Unfortunately, my symptoms have left me with the inability to work. I went from having a wonderful career with the fringe benefits that provided me with some comfort for the future and the ability to provide for my family. I’m only able to work about 2 hours a day…on a good day.

It seems as if my symptoms (depending on the time of year) can start a chain reaction, so I needed to learn to work within my deficits. This isn’t easy or comfortable for me and I can find myself becoming frustrated and angry at my PTSD. Actually, most days, if I’m being honest, I am very angry at my PTSD. But then I settle down and think about what I want for my life and try to rest and reset.

The inability to concentrate can be over-whelming for me. I know what I want to do, what I want my brain to do but I simply am unable to do it. Making choices at the grocery store, or a restaurant can be so uncomfortable that I will just simply lose my interest in eating and shut down. Sometimes as night approaches it feels overwhelming because I know that it’s highly likely that sometime during the night I will have nightmares. Even practicing good sleep hygiene listening to podcasts, all the tricks can’t stop the nightmares sometimes and it gets overwhelming. And sometimes I’m overwhelmed because I’m a survivor of trauma and have PTSD and that’s just the way it is, even though I wish it was different.

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. It provided distance from having to use my voice at first, but then I found it actually gave me a voice.

I’ve been hurt, I’ve been abandoned, I’ve been threatened, but I’m not going to let the effects of what happened to me keep me from trying to have the life I want. I never lose sight of my goals. They are to live with my past, live in the truth, and recognize and relish in the feelings of internal contentment. Somedays those goals seem as far away as the furthest star, and other days I can see them just through the clutter, almost there. I’m motivated to keep moving forward, spurred on by the hope for a better life. A life where I am living, not just surviving. The seasons can make it difficult, and seemingly daunting, but being honest and out from the shadows helps make my life matter in the midst of the clutter.

autumn-994897_1920

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

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

View more on Alexis Rose's website »

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Published on September 08, 2016 07:55

Always in my Heart

Whatever the season

wherever the place

even if there is distance

of time between us

know that I love you more every day

you are never far from my thoughts

and always in my heart.

©Alexis Rose

Alexis Rose

photo: pixabay

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

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

View more on Alexis Rose's website »

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Published on September 05, 2016 08:07

Guest Author: Alexis Rose

Thank You C.M. at https://cmblackwood.wordpress.com/ for having me as a guest author today.

Blackwood's Magazine

Hello, all! Today marks the first entry in our September Spotlight: A whole month of fascinating interviews with marvelous indie authors!

Today, our special guest is Alexis Rose.

Author_Alexis_Rose

Everyone has a story about why they love to write. What’s yours?

Writing came into my life purely by accident. I had never written anything more than letters or birthday cards, until six years ago. A friend of mine wanted to know what it felt like for me living with PTSD. Because it’s such an invisible illness, she was at a loss on how to support me. At the time I was unable to verbalize what it felt like to anyone, let alone to myself. I went home, thought about what I would like to say, and I wrote my first poem. After showing it to her, with tears in her eyes, she told me I had to start writing. I showed…

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