July 2009 Archives

The genesis of this site was an experience I had nearly a year ago of "enlightenment". I use that term loosely because I'm not sure how to now describe it. I've also called it "full consciousness", "higher energy state of being", "knowledge of the Universe", among other phrases. The site was just a few pages then, not a blog, meant only to document that experience. I wrote about it in A Healing Journey (Original) and in subsequent postings here and here.

The experience of nearly a year ago had never happened to me before in that way. I was transformed for a period of a couple of weeks. It was absolutely incredible. I had thought I was completely healed and was convinced that I would stay in that state forever. I'm not sure why it was I thought that. But I did. I guess it was so glorious that I couldn't imagine not being in that place. I thought I unlocked the mysteries to the Universe. In a certain sense I did. But I was not able to hold onto this place.

When I crashed, I crashed hard. I was devastated. I ended up in the hospital.

But I rebounded quickly and over the ensuing months, I was able to experience this state of full consciousness again and again and again, though never quite as strong or as long as the first experience.

Then last Thursday after therapy as I was writing, I started having a similar experience. I wrote at the time:

This experience came on the heels of a rather difficult past few weeks. A period in which I almost ended up in the hospital. I wrote about the experience, as it was happening, again last Friday:

On Saturday, there was a crisis at work, which lasted through Monday, and this state was no longer meant to be. I had to shift my awareness on the inside. And I finally had a crash on Tuesday night and all day Wednesday. I am just now picking up the pieces.

What do I take from this experience?

First, it's important for me to remember that the work I've been doing in therapy since last year has been about acceptance and, to some extent, mindfulness. I incorporate music into therapy, sometimes choosing selections of music to listen to with my therapist. Sometimes these pieces of music are incredibly powerful and emotional. The same is true with art which allows different parts of me to be present and engaged. We also do relaxation and visualization exercises. All of these complement traditional "talk" therapy and, I think, are important components of a holistic healing experience.

These experiences of consciousness are the fruits of this labor. In a certain sense, I see them as an integration of sorts. It's as if my life is a set of discrete realities which is limiting in many respects. But when I can fully accept, there is a way in which everything connects. When those connections happen, I can make connections outside of me also.

I see these experiences of higher consciousness as touchstones. They are what keep me going.

So, have I piqued your interest? There's of course no generally accepted "proper" way to do therapy. I've been around long enough to know there are many types of therapies for trauma healing. Most of them I don't know much at all about. But I was hoping that this post could pull together some of the "lessons learned" from my experiences.

It seems impossible to me that I was able to function, at one point, without psychotherapy. I do have hope that one day I will heal enough to not need it, for surely I cannot work this hard forever (as I wrote about in Trying to Give Myself a Boost). But for now, therapy is much needed. It provides a resource with which to navigate through the minefield that is healing.

The way I "do" therapy has changed over the years.

In the early years I said nothing. I remember being in my early 20s and being intensely fearful about sharing anything. But, aside from that, I didn't know what to say. I would watch the clock and remember looking at the time in two ways. I would either measure it by how much time had gone by or how much time was left. It was excruciating. That wasn't the proper way to do therapy.

Somehow I learned to talk. I don't remember when that was, but it happened. It was like a dam broke and everything came out at once. I was a mess. I still hated going to therapy. I was switching all over the place. I was unable to contain memories. I also ended up, for a period of a couple years, going many times a week. It wasn't uncommon for me to go four times a week back then and there were also the crisis phone calls and all the "drama" that people associate with the beginning stages of dealing with DID. You can read about that in Therapy as Life Support versus Healing. That wasn't the proper way to do therapy either.

I took a break from therapy from 1995-2001. I was self-harming but didn't really pay attention to it. I muddled through using the dissociative coping and got married and had kids. Well, technically my wife had them, but I was a crucial participant. I increasingly became distressed about the self-harm and felt it was getting out of control. But I had nobody to talk to. For some reason, I had not really mentioned it in my prior round of therapy. That was certainly not the proper way to do therapy.

In 2001 I entered therapy again. This time things were different. I had a "life" now and I was in my early 30s. I had responsibilities. I had children. I had a mortgage. There were still the crises, except they felt a bit different. I needed to address the self-harm. I learned to intellectualize in therapy. I thought I could figure this all out as a scientific problem. So, this is how we worked. We analyzed everything in excruciating detail. I did learn quite a bit from those years. It's important to know how to look at a problem, even a psychological one, intellectually. But I missed the boat. I thought being able to intellectually dissect a problem was the Holy Grail. I was wrong. I would often rush to therapy from my office and then rush back afterwards. I would often have no sense of what happened. It was all a whirlwind. I eventually learned that it was not safe to go back to work after therapy. So, I usually went home afterwards. Often I was a mess. I would have to medicate the emotional distress away. This was also not the proper way to do therapy.

For me, the proper way to do therapy is the hardest and most time consuming way to do therapy, but also bears the most fruit. There are a few basic principles I adhere to:

• Make time before therapy. I don't rush to therapy anymore. I usually leave a cushion of about 3 hours before therapy to sit in a safe place and allow my system to equilibrate. I assess where I'm at. I sometimes take notes on what I want to talk about. I listen to music. I write. I draw.
• Make time for therapy. My therapy used to be 45-minute or 50-minute therapy "hours". I've found this is not enough time when wading through the weighty issues of healing. In therapy, I can experience a number of state changes and emotions. These take time to address. My therapist and I have also learned to do more than just talk. We do art. Art has opened up new doors to younger aspects of me and to more destructive aspects of me. We can draw or paint the unsayable. Music has also been a healing force. My therapist and I are able to share pieces of music together which have particular meaning. For example, after we listened to Beethoven's Grosse Fugue several months ago, we had a deep discussion about why it was important to me. If you haven't heard the Grosse Fugue, you really owe yourself a listen. Relaxation and meditation have also been techniques we explore in therapy together. As a result of all these different approaches, the 90 minutes usually flies by. And that's not because I switched!
• Make time after therapy. I have found that it's important to process what we process in therapy. This is the part that bothers me greatly. I usually feel that after the time preparing for therapy and after therapy itself, I'm entitled to a break. But, if I just go home afterwards, a lot can be lost. So, I bring my laptop with me, sit in the lobby, and write until things start to make sense. I'm usually co-conscious, so while initially the barriers start to be erected, I can offset this by taking time to write. Eventually, I'm able to make some meaning and I learn more about parts of me. This is true even if I don't have a complete picture. I can usually put enough of the pieces together, but I have to do it soon after therapy or this information gets lost in the noise.

I've also learned that I cannot figure everything out all the time. I know that really none of this is about figuring things out. It's about the mantra my therapist gave me: Relax, Breathe, Feel, Listen, Choose, Allow. It's interesting that none of the words have to do with figuring things out, intellectualizing, or any of that.

This is the balance to be struck. The balance between thinking and feeling.

It's hard but it's the proper way to do therapy.

This is a somewhat edited reprint from my private journal of a little more than a week ago, which, I guess, by virtue of my posting it here means it's not private anymore! While it's personal, I wanted to share it here because it shows how I can have hope in the healing process and maybe that could help others.

This post gets a trigger warning for link to a news story about abuse.

I'm posting this also partly to give myself a little boost. I'm having trouble holding onto the hope.

I finally got my computer to record from my piano. I knew I was going to get this done for the summer, because I record every summer. I haven't been able to get the computer to talk to the piano for months, and what was in the way proved to be nothing more than the press of a single button. I suppose you can guess that my music setup has lots of buttons.

Anyway, I wanted to just put up something fast. So, I recorded just a few measures of Sarah McLachlan's Angel with me on piano. This is a "hard grand" patch from my Kurzweil PC2R. I purposely didn't embellish much at all and played it really simple.

I'll do better takes in the future for this and other pieces with the mistakes cleaned up and lay down some genuine Steinway-sampled tracks.

In an earlier image of a cobblestone path, I was reminded of internal order that is sometimes needed in order for many of us to move forward. Several of you remarked that the image was too "regimented", "trapped" and "constrained". So, I followed up that image with one showing masts and rigging from a tall ship. That didn't sit very well with me.

The other day, I saw the Japanese film "Departures" which won this year's Oscar for best foreign film. It was extraordinary on so many levels. I guess I was feeling particularly "open" while watching it. In the beginning, the hero was playing cello in a small orchestra. They were playing Beethoven's 9th Symphony, the one which ends with the famous majestic chorus. If you listen to the whole symphony, you will know that the main melody of 15 simple notes is present throughout the entire piece and only in the end are you treated to the full glory and majesty of that simple melody.

I was sitting there and thinking to myself, "This is the metaphor I want to use for my parts!" It's better than cobblestones and better than sailing rigging.

There are two components to the metaphor. The first is the majesty of the piece and the choral crescendo towards the end. This is a celebration! It's saying, you have this very simple set of 15 parts (notes) and you work with it (or play with it) throughout the 55 or so minutes of the entire symphony, exploring every possible combination of what these 15 parts can do. In the end, quite suddenly, you are treated to something quite remarkable. Who would ever imagine that ending? Who would ever imagine that 15 simple notes would yield such beauty and power?

The other component has to do with the members of the orchestra and chorus. There are so many, and each contributes to the glory of what this piece is about. They each play their own part, but when put together they create beautiful music.

I was out in my garden today, thinking about this musical metaphor and wondering what kind of image I could put with it, when I happened on these "annabelle" hydrangeas. They look, more or less, like an orchestra to me, a "symphony of parts."

The past few days have been horrible for me. I had planned to go into the hospital. But I decided against it today. Instead, this was what I did. I thought of the symphony. I looked around me. I listened. And I felt better.

I've also included a high resolution (1920 px) image. Technical information: Nikon D300 camera with Tamron 90mm/2.8 lens, 1/200s and f/10.

I have a part who helps with sex. I live in a virtual bubble when it comes to sex. Since forever, he has used porn amongst other things, some of which became rather unsafe for me. I eventually classified all that as self-harm, with some activities being more harmful than others. Some are purely psychological harm and others are also physical harm.

I thought for a long while he was just evil. I eventually found out that he wasn't, but rather just doing what he thought he was supposed to in order to protect some of the younger parts. I still don't fully understand how being involved in sex protects younger parts, when in the end it triggers everyone. Well, maybe I do. In some ways it shields them from the abuse, but as we became more aware all over, this kind of coping didn't work as well. Peter is 17.

Peter has been the cause of my getting into some trouble over the years. The acting out started around junior high when he prank phone called girls in my school and the police ended up coming to my house. I don't have the full story on what happened. I suppose I denied it, which was the truth from my perspective. My father confronted me and I think we had a little talk and that was the end of it.

Sex remained an issue and gets dealt with sometimes in ways I'm incredibly uncomfortable, embarrassed, and ashamed about. It's now rarely about serious self-harm and more a nuisance. It's been dealt with insofar as Peter knows the really harmful stuff, all intended to hurt me, is not acceptable because it's hurtful to others inside. I know it will all have to be dealt with eventually, but for now I live with a quirky relationship with sex and accept it.

But tonight, while at my parents, they seemed to be very distrustful of me when I was fixing my Dad's computer. At first I didn't put two and two together. And if this were a year or two ago, I would never have. But, now with my increased awareness, I knew what it was about. They were around for all the "getting caught" stuff, the "lying", the breakdowns and suicide attempts, and the multiple personality diagnosis. So, I cannot help but wonder if my parents were thinking I have multiple personalities and have done things in the past, so I'm not trustworthy because I'm not really in control or I'm not really who I say I am?

If that's the case, then does how far I've come count for nothing? I built a career, bought a house, married, and had kids. I did all that in as whole a way as I could. They know I still have trouble and work at healing, but I thought they knew I was trustworthy and a decent person.

Or do they? That is the question.

Or perhaps a better question is what I say to myself about all this?

I have a small memory of being a young boy and captivated by a Major League Baseball All-Star game. I can only remember that one time and the feeling of awe as the players were announced. That same surreal feeling struck me at many sporting events, including the 1975 World Series, which the Red Sox lost to the Reds in 7 games, and the 1984 and 1986 World Championships, which the Celtics won.

Sports were always a normalizing experience for me, whether I was on the field or court myself or I was watching professional games on television or firsthand at the Boston Garden or Fenway Park.

So tonight, for some unknown reason and for the first time since that childhood experience, I'm watching the All-Star game. I'm surprised because I just realized that the game was played at Fenway in 1999 and I didn't make any attempt to watch it. At least I have no memory of it.

The reason I'm posting any of this here is that as part of the pre-game festivities, MLB and People magazine sponsored "All-Stars Among Us". Thousands were nominated and 30 were selected (one from each team) representing citizens who have made special contributions to their community.

I wanted to single out one individual, Mark Kunz, for his relevance to this site.

His description reads: Matt Kunz's stepbrother Chris committed suicide in 2007 after returning from Iraq with undiagnosed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Matt made it his mission to ensure that all National Guard Troops in his home state of Montana receive adequate PTSD screening. He continues to campaign for PTSD awareness and screening for all veterans.

I see "all-stars" everywhere, including all survivors of trauma who are all-stars in my eyes.

For more information, visit: All-Stars Among Us.

This post gets a trigger warning for talk about a conference for sex offenders.

Many of you know that I took a nice leisurely walk all around Boston with my family and course students last Friday. I felt rather safe. Why shouldn't I? This isn't New York, after all, with cops on every street corner. Or Detroit, the worst crime city in America.

But was my sense of safety a tad misplaced? It so happens that the very day I was walking through safe downtown Boston with my family to see the "tall ships", the national Reform Sex Offender Laws conference was being held, in the same city at an undisclosed hotel. From their site:

Among the topics discussed were "De-Mytholigizing the Sex Offender" and "Sex Offender Civil Rights," and (yes, it's true) "Family Time Get Together". And I see that one of the keynote speakers is a professor at the same college I teach at. How nice.

The conference goals are listed as:

And I wonder why I'm sick right now?

It's a bit ironic, because our city made it almost impossible for the "tall ships" to visit Boston. But, if you're a sex offender, you apparently are very welcome.

I'm posting this because I have been incredibly naive about what's happening in the world. I've never imagined there would be such a group and that they would be so brazen.

The previous post was an image of a cobblestone path. On the same trip to Boston this past Friday to see the "tall ships", I also took the above image.

I was struck by the seemingly complex nature of the sailing ship's rigging. I was also struck by how easily the crew members navigated this structure. To them, moving around up and down the masts was second nature. I wonder, then, if it's possible for us to find some way to move so easily through our complex internal systems?

I know it's possible, because I've been able to do it before, but not for any sustained period of time. This past week has been really difficult for me while I'm in the midst of teaching an all-day summer course for 2 weeks. On Monday, it was a disaster. On Tuesday, the image of my experience was of perfect flow, which prompted me to write Respect, Responsibility, and Water. The rest of the week can only be described as a roller coaster.

So, again, I ask what this image says to you? Is there a metaphor here? Does it help you relate to your experiences?

I've also included a high resolution (1920 px) image. If you look closely, you can see where dust has settled on my sensor and now this camera has been dropped off to the shop to get a cleaning. Technical information: Nikon D300 camera with 17-55/2.8 lens at 55mm, 1/250s and f/16.

Remnants of early streets and pedestrian walkways can be found all over historic Boston. I've always admired these old stones because they remind me of a bygone era. There's a deep respect I have for history and I often wonder who trod over these stones.

This image, to me, is not unlike the stone wall from Pictorial Metaphor, posted last month. The differences, however, are in the sizes of the stones and how they are put together. Cobblestone pathways consist of similar sized stones in a typical "running bond" pattern.

There's a metaphor in this image. What is it to you? I think how nice it would be if my internal system was so ordered. I also think of direction, path, and journey. And cannot help but notice the difference in texture from stone to stone.

I've included a high resolution (1920 px) image. Image was shot at f/3.2 and focused on the foreground.