The spiky ball… part deux

August 15, 2024 ~ one4paws ~ Leave a comment

Hi there y’all, it’s Bryn.

So grief. It is a spiky ball of pain. It’s sadness, it’s fear, it’s disappointment. It’s relief, it’s fits of rage, it’s fits of sobbing and screaming and keening on the floor. For me anyway.Because for me, when something happens that needs grieving, all the grief I have ever felt is connected and not only am I needing to feel through the current thing that is lost, but all the things that were in any way connected to that loss.

Here’s an example:
When I was going through my divorce, it wasn’t only the grief of the marriage, it was the loss of the 15 year friendship he and I had before we ever started dating. It was knowing I would only have 2 of the 3 dogs constantly in my life. It was losing mutual friendships I knew would “side” with him even though we eventually stepped apart mutually and peacefully with love still in our hearts for each other and never asked anyone to pick sides. It was loving him and knowing we weren’t right for each other anymore. It was grieving the version of me who does love him and was right for him, because that was gone too. It’s being left with all the memories of the history and energy and time spent, being laid to rest.

I’m sure you’re seeing it, that what hardly anyone talk about is that grief is so multifaceted that you can’t know how much you will have to grieve when something happens until it happens and all the connections are torn from you. Until you are faced with this gaping hole that used to be a person or relationship that was a sustaining factor in your life. Now that one of the support beams is broken or gone, the house is falling down. It’s an entire overhaul of life to make stability an option again. And unless the other support factors in life are there and willing and strong enough to hold up the building while one sorts through the wreckage, this person writing, finds that structures crumble. That old systems that used to work great must also be overhauled. That every point of life that touched the support beam person or relationship that is gone, must be examined and built new, different, stronger.
As is evidenced by the first part of this spiky ball, the grieving keeps a comin’. So for me, the rebuilding, remodeling, reassessment and restructure never stops.
This year I have had 5 structural damaging grief events. I am not fine. I look fine, I am functioning. But there is so much damage and pain inside me that I am working through. And everytime a new thing happens and I want to reach for support, I remember that Ben is also dead. That the person who I could always reach for is at his own rest now. That I am left to open the grief of his loss again because I just want him to answer the phone and tell me he’s with me, he’s on the way to give me a hug and I am not alone. And when my childhood home burned, all the memories there, of life being lived, being released into the ether by fire.
How cleansing right? Until you look at the literal mess left and it’s a hearty reminder of the mess of emotions and memories I have to sort through, find places for. The tidying of this soul is an ongoing process, and life keeps throwing more messes to be tidied.

Grief is a spiky ball of pain, and I have found that as time passes, and there is some space and felt emotions that the spikes, they dull down a little at a time. And sometimes, like with grandma passing, it’s different and somehow easier, because 94 years is a long time to live for a person, and she has earned her rest. She deserves to be peacefully with the loves of her life and not to suffer. The losses that “make sense” are easier for me to come to terms with, so I try to find the sense in each loss. And sometimes the spikes dull, and even the ball may shrink. So while it’s still bouncing around in my heart, when it touches a sensitive place at least it doesn’t always lacerate, and tear the wounds wide open and bleeding again.

I just find myself wishing right now that there weren’t so very many spiky balls of pain bouncing around inside of me, stabbing at my heart and soul. I am sad, and I am tired, and I am tired of being sad.

The spikey ball that is grief. From Bryn

August 14, 2024August 14, 2024 ~ one4paws ~ Leave a comment

It’s been a while since I have sit down and written anything. A lot has been going on in my life, well not a lot, but it feels like a lot because of how heavy the things are.
Early this summer (or late this Spring, 2024) my last grand parent passed away. She was the real matriarch of our family. She was the loving, foundation.
Losing people I love is always difficult for me. I have a long list of loss in my life, so long that I have C-PSTD around grief in general. For those that may not know, “regular” PTSD is usually something that happens to someone who goes through one traumatic event. Complex PTSD is a cumulative build up of repeated traumatic happenings.
Growing up, I knew about death. I was a farm kid enough to have raised our own cows for meat, and chickens for eggs. We had pet rabbits and I learned early what the food chain was. I remember vividly once, as a toddler, comforting my aunt because my rabbit had gotten out and the dogs had killed it. (Now is not the time to discuss deeply, but I am aware now how as a 3-year-old I was somehow responsible for the adult’s feelings), We had dogs and cats too, who we had to send over the rainbow bridge. Early in my life I knew what death was.
Then, one night, I was 19 or 20 years old, at the drive in with some friends. I got a call from my boyfriend at the time and he was frantic. He had gone for a drive with some friends of ours and had gotten in a horrific crash. The car flew off an embankment and immediately killed my two friends on the driver’s side in the car.
We talked enough that I could get some information from him about where they were and who was with them and call 911. He helped the other survivor out of the car, and despite both of their injuries, he pulled the other person up the embankment and to the side of the road where he could flag down help. I was in a panic for a good while, until his family told me which hospital he was taken to and he was stable. I also learned then that the other two people in the car, were in fact, dead.
This was my first brush with death and loss of human loved ones. The first two viewings I ever attended, the first two funerals I went to. They were my friends Lucas (18years old) and Sydney (16 years old). This car wreck changed our lives, my own and everyone in our community. I learned that I never need to attend another viewing, because for me, the last memory I want of my loved ones is them alive.

Editor’s Note:
I wish I hadn’t gone to my mother’s funeral. It was the last image I have of her and it is stuck the deepest. I would have missed the church service, but I was creeped out long before that. I showed up and smiled. I was just intimidated. I turned on the preacher’s kid and muscled through. I will also never be the same.

And I learned how mortal we are. I learned that you always say goodbye before you leave, because it might be the last thing you say. I learned to tell people that matter to me that they matter, because they could be gone tomorrow.
Several years later, my first grandparent died. My sweet old Grandpa “Weird”. The death of an elder is different than the sudden loss of young people. The is all this time to prepare yourself for the loss of our ancestors, watching them slowly fade. And Grandpa had dementia, so he was mentally lost to us years before his body and soul were gone. But I remember his funeral too, and that I had a panic attack most of the drive and before we went into the church.
Then, I worked in biomedical research with primates for 17 years. As an animal lover, I was always so happy to be able to be taking care of those amazing animals. To be there to advocate for them, and spoil them at every opportunity. But they were purpose bred to sacrifice their lives in the name of science. It was my job, for many, many years, to be the person who sedated and carried these animals, some that I had known for their whole lives, to the end of their study and necropsy. So, I just kept stacking losses, on losses. For 17 years I made friends and took care of those monkeys, and for17 years, I compartmentalized the losses.
It seems counter intuitive to say this, but I am going to glance over the 8-month period of time in which my partner at the time and I had to say goodbye to both of our heart dogs, his grandfather, his young cousin, and our friend died young and suddenly too. Needless to say, it was a bad time for us.
Then my first Grandmother passed, she was not the easiest person to love, but she was someone I could always call and tell her in full honesty the worst things I had ever done and she would save me from the shame spiral. (Which seems a little ironic, because I think she is also the one that taught my mother the same spiral who then passed that special skill on to me, but anyway) She would never sugar coat or deceive. She shot that arrow right through you because truth is. But she would never shame me with the truth, just ask the hard questions that allowed me to choose what kind of person I wanted to be.
Two years ago, my other Grandfather left us just before Christmas. I got to go see him not too much before he passed, while he was in the hospital. I got to go be there for my poor Daddy while his father faded.
And now we are here. Where I am I think maybe today even, at the one-year anniversary of sending my deaf and blind dog Duncan over the Rainbow Bridge. And Thanksgiving will be a year since my rock, my best friend, my brother Ben passed away.
Ben, I could always count on. He knew that trust mattered to me. He was the most consistent and loving person in my life since I was in 6th grade and he sat behind me in advanced band, where most 6th graders were not. HE played the baritone sax and I played the flute. And his brother was friends with my brother and I felt so special that I got to be friends with all of them. Our families were so close. Are so close still. I am so blessed to be able to feel so deeply for people, that it destroys me when they are gone.
Then in May, in the airport, on the way home from 2 weeks on the other side of the country to visit my partner’s family and My Leslie, I learned that my grandma was on her way out of this mortal realm. This one was really hard for me, because we got home and the next evening I went to house sit for a fried of mine. Not something I could just drop or call in sick to. So, I got to say goodbye to my grandmother on video chat. She wasn’t really responsive to most input from people in the room, she was barely conscious, but when I told her I loved her and that I would be taking as many of her plants to live with me as I was able. She perked up, she acknowledged me and tried to speak, which didn’t work, but I was so glad to know she knew I was with her too, even if only in spirit.

Now, even more has happened, there is always happenings, and will always be more happening, because I am still here. And I will continue to feel as deeply as I am able. Thanks for reading.

I have so, so much more to say, stay tuned for more.

TMI?

July 19, 2023 ~ one4paws ~ 2 Comments

Hi, this is Bryn. I know, I just jumped in here and started writing without introducing myself. As a person who struggles mightily with self-worth, you may have to ask pointed questions to learn more, but if you ask, and I feel like you care, I’ll tell you anything. I’m an open book if you’ve earned it.

I used to just be an open book. Unfortunately for me though, that meant that I spent all my time living other people’s lives and versions of myself, instead of living my own life. Now that I’m a grown ass woman (don’t tell the others!) and have had many conversations with Leslie, I’m beginning to believe that I’m allowed to have my own opinion and if people don’t like it, they are welcome to come have an adult conversation about it, or they are welcome to fuck right off. I don’t have a lot of in-between on that anymore. Too many people have tricked me into believe their lies, but again, I must out myself on culpability. That’s tricky though because I feel strongly that the believer isn’t the culprit the liar is. However, when “I love you” begins to feel and sound like a lie and I don’t say anything about it, that’s where I become part of the problem. When I teach you how to treat me, and I am in a season of self-hatred, then chances are, the ways I am teaching you to love me aren’t going to be healthy or sustainable. I am (finally) beginning to believe that I am allowed to take up space, to make noise in the presence of others, that the ability to meld into any crowd is as much a trauma response as walking so quietly in my own house that I frighten people because they didn’t hear me coming down the hall.

It’s still such a process though, because so much of my trauma lives physiologically inside my body. Here’s an example; You know how when a bird flies away in fright, it often evacuates its bowel? Well, one of the fun ways my trauma shows up in my body is that whenever I need to take a shit and have that feeling, then my stomach butterflies go crazy and my heart starts to race, because my body, it thinks that because we have to shit, we’re probably also being hunted by a lion…in my fenced in yard, in my quiet little Christian town, with my 120lb guard dog next to me. It doesn’t matter what is happening outside my body, if inside my body it thinks that the entire cast of Jungle book is on it’s way and humans are a valid food source. So, in order to a)not shit myself on the spot and b)stave off the imminent panic attack, this leads to conversations (often out loud) I have with my body, saying things like, “Yes body, we need to shit, that’s what happens when we feed ourselves appropriately. I feel you body and I will look for danger, but when I don’t find it, maybe we can let the heart go back to normal?” This fun body byplay happens in reverse too! Say I’m needing to run to the store for one thing, I know exactly where it is in the store and everything. Just contemplating going to the store is enough to make my belly rumble and my butthole twitch. I’ll go try to get in the car, and my body will say “Mmmm maybe we should shit first, so that we can run faster when we’re being pursued by the grocery store hunters.” So I’ll go to the restroom and take a whatever my body wants to evacuate. Then I get back in the car and get to the store, and sometimes my body hits me again, before I even park, and sometimes she waits until I’m inside and on the other side of the store from the restroom, but inevitably I’m going to the toilet at the store, despite having just done so 10 minutes before at my own house. If I’m having a really bad time, and my anxiety is in full swing, it could be 2-6 more trips to the toilet. This is only one reason that I hate going to the store.

I’ve pulled into parking lots and just noped right back out again because just looking at the number of people and cars almost made me shit myself in my car.

Don’t even get me started on food. I’ve had some complicated relationships, but my relationship with food is still the most complex one in my life. When I start to go to therapy again, I’ll definitely be having that conversation tout sweet. What I do know, is that I love food. I love cooking it, preparing it for other people and having the opportunity to be creative in such a fulfilling way. Did you see what I did there? I’m hilarious, watch out.

So it turns out I may just ramble about myself when given the opportunity. This is new to me since I have been so used to taking up as little space and being as perfect as possible to be sure I earn love. What I hear about this site though, is that I can just be me and love me for me and write whatever I want (with my own cavate that it’s true, since the title of the site matters to me) and I don’t need to worry about whether you love me or not.

Facts are, if I don’t love me, I will never believe anyone else can either. Trust me, I checked, it’s true.

Whose time is it anyway?

July 19, 2023 ~ one4paws ~ 3 Comments

Daily writing prompt

Which activities make you lose track of time?

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Sometimes my time sensing mind is like a goldfish and every 10 seconds something new has my attention. Other times it’s on hyper focus mode and nothing can drag me from whatever is captivating me. Sometimes my brain is just too loud to know that time even exists, and I need a nap and maybe I’ll be human when I wake up.

In general, though, having done so much work where each task takes approximately 5-10-15 etc minutes, I can usually set an internal timer and am generally spot on as to how much time has passed.

Now, I have noticed that, for me, there are places that have their own time fields. Like the barn or the river. When I am in those places, the timing of the outside world no longer matters, minutes no longer denote the passing of our lives, but gentle calm breaths and slow deliberate movements take over. I can be absorbed into the peace of my activity. Places that have their own times are places that call you to become fully present. When you’re working with horses for example. Your plan is to just go on a simple trail ride, from your own barn on your own property. Even if you know how long your trail is and how long it may take you to walk that trail on your own feet, you cannot assume that doing that trail on horseback will have the same yields. Horses, well they’re wild animals with their own minds. So planning that trip with your best equine pal is gonna add some time cause first you have to get them ready. You gotta brush them and check their feet and get all their tack on. Sometimes this is a straightforward endeavor and sometimes Ol’ Ginger has a rock stuck in her hoof and is having a real bad day and tries to smash you against the wall of her stall each time you pick up any of her feet (of which there are 4). So now you were fixin to go on a relaxing trail ride and you’re making progress towards your goal but you’re also sweating and swearing and bruised from your friend trying to crush you with her whole body. It’s not my fault you can’t stay out of the gravel Ginger! Now all the rest of her clothes have to go on and you also know that in order to get that cinch tight enough that ol’ Ging can’t slide you off on a tree on the first corner, you’re gonna have to walk her around the pasture for 15 minutes, and gradually tightening that cinch up. Ging is all dressed up, you’ve got your lunch and beverages in your saddle bags and are now ready to head out. Going from the barn to the trail head is easy as pie but then there’s the creek to cross. You and Ginger both know she is able to cross the creek but each time she sees it she has to remember her abilities and you’re the one who has to remind her. She decides today she isn’t afraid of the creek but she is afraid of the bridge so as long as you go around the bridge instead of over, you’re both in good shape. And thus your ride begins, and knowing you’ve set aside the whole day to go on this adventure you and Ginger ride off into the woods to relax and deepen your bond with eachother and Mother Nature.

Similarly with the river or the ocean, the destination is known, but the journey and experience are what really matter and if existing in nature isn’t a time we should let our existence be timeless then I don’t know when it should.

People have told me so many times in my life how patient I am. When I have been working with children or monkeys, or dogs or horses, the list goes on.. For me, in those moments, it didn’t feel like patience, it felt like pressance.

The time I am spending with my dog, me standing calmly still and making soothing noises while she is overly excitedly trying to engage that other dog walking by some of that is patience, the patience to relase any judgement I have of myself or am percieving in others because my dogs is making ‘a scene’. But most of it for me is presence, because if I am there with her, while she’s too excited about that other dog, I can sense the moment when her brain has space to listen to me again and I can call her back and reward her. Then our bond and trust is that much stronger because I was patient with myself and present with her. It’s the same with other animals, including human primates. If we can have patience and empathy with ourselves, we don’t project our terrifying stories onto others. And that leaves space for understanding and growth.

Time doesn’t really exist anyway, so I may as well focus mine on things that do make me lose track of it, because then, I will know I am present and doing something I enjoy so much that I don’t even remember the rest of the world has a clock.