The Silent Page

Today is the first day I have felt somewhat normal in weeks. Many. Weeks. Since I returned from Austria at the beginning of this year, I have been plagued with near debilitating medical issues. I even thought I might not be able to go to Bulembu. Thankfully, a diagnosis was made and medicine was prescribed. But it wasn’t the right solution, and I have since become a guinea pig to doctor’s trying to find the right cocktail that will do the trick. In the meantime, there are days when I can barely get out of bed. Today is the first day I haven’t had a moderately painful headache or full-blown migraine in more than a month. Remnants of PTSD crept back into my life creating anxiety that made me fearful to even leave my home.

And work? Ha. Forget work. If there was enough energy to make it downstairs, I’d consider that a good day. There have been a few projects here and there, for which I am thankful. But my blog…

I consider this blog to be the window to my soul. I know God has called me to write, and I don’t mind opening the shades so people can get a glimpse inside. But I’m the type of writer who believes that writing just for writing’s sake is ineffective and pointless. I’m reminded of the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. When he heard that Jesus was coming, he tried to position himself close enough but the crowd was too much. So, he yelled, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd told him to be quiet but Bartimaeus only yelled louder. When Jesus heard his cry, he called him over and asked him what he wanted. He replied, “My rabbi, I want to see.” Instantly, Bartimaeus was healed, and he followed Jesus. (Mark 10:46-52)

Bartimaeus spoke when he needed to and when it mattered most. And when everything was on the line, he didn’t give up. I liken myself to Bartimaeus when it comes to writing. I write only when I feel there’s something important to say. I can’t blog just to blog. I must make a difference. What I write must matter to the reader. Otherwise, why bother? Bartimaeus believed Jesus would heal him if he just yelled loud enough.

This is where the similarities between me and Bart end. I feel like I have been screaming at the top of my lungs, but Jesus hasn’t been listening. Yes, I know in my head that God always hears us. Moving that knowledge about 12 inches lower to my heart is a different story. When depression takes over, you stop believing in everything and everyone, including yourself.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve opened up my blog in the last three weeks, wanting desperately to write something that matters. Instead, I would just wait; not for inspiration but for death to wash over me because I don’t have the courage to do it myself. So, another day would pass and another page would remain silent.

Until today when there is a glimmer of hope. But I’ve seen this movie before. And I know how it ends. I wonder how long the page will remain silent this time.

Sleepless in Indy

How much sleep do you require to be fully functional? Me? Oh, about 10-12 hours. No, seriously. Sleeping has always been one of my favorite hobbies. Beyond that, I just need a lot of sleep. Always have.

One of the downsides to anxiety and PTSD is that sometimes you sleep a lot and sometimes you don’t sleep at all.I have actually gone for days with no sleep. And I have fretted for years over my strange sleeping habits. I can recall being absolutely frantic if I didn’t get enough sleep, fearing that my lack of rest would result in one of the worst motor vehicle accidents ever known to man. All of it caused by me.

As a youngster, I required copious amounts of sleep but when you’re young, you’re also invincible. (Aren’t you?) Oh, I still enjoyed sleeping but I found ways to cope. After 9/11, sleep became my bitter enemy. Sleeping pills eventually became my BFF before they turned me into something straight out of the movie “Pet Cemetery.” Once I was able to ween myself off the pills, I tried sleeping without an aid with much success at failure.

Being married makes sleepless nights an even greater burden. I mean, a wife is supposed to be at her husband’s side in their bed at night, right? But I eventually discovered the guest bedroom, hoping that I would be seen as the respectful wife for wanting to ensure her husband got enough sleep to go to work and bring home the bacon, which I would then cook. Instead I often felt like the unrepentant wife who was only looking out for her own comfort. At first, Kurt would notice my absence.

“Come back to bed, honey. It’s ok,” he would say.

So, I returned to our bed only to curse the incredibly bright light on his digital alarm clock – a light I am certain the International Space Station can see clearly without the aid of a telescope – his snoring, and the cat, who followed me from bed to bed and made sure I felt like a sardine crammed into the proverbial can no matter how much room there was for both of us. My restless body syndrome had me bouncing around like the best of jumping beans, giving me more ammunition for guilt over keeping Kurt from a restful night.  But now, he doesn’t even know when I leave. Each night he goes to bed next to his wife and won’t know whether she’ll be there when he wakes up the next morning until his eyes are forced open by the screaming of his alarm clock (which can also probably be heard on the Space Station).

When I was single and starting out as a writer, I loved writing until the wee hours of the morning. But that usually meant I had to sleep half the day. Not exactly the ideal scenario for married life. But I have learned to let go of the angst. Our good friend, Larry, showed me the way. When he confessed his own sleeplessness, I learned that he didn’t fight it. He’d get up and read or pray or both then return to bed for another hour or two before waking rested. Sheesh. Why didn’t I think of that?

Before I discovered the guest bedroom, I would flip and flop to find the perfect position and then clinch my eyes shut as tight as possible, willing myself to sleep. I would pray, count sheep and go through the alphabet thinking of boy and girl names for every letter. I tried melatonin, exercise, deep breathing, reading, watching TV, wine. You name it. I would go to bed earlier and earlier every night only to fall asleep quickly but wake up again at some ungodly hour. After hearing Larry’s story, I was inspired to try it for myself.

At first I would watch Red Eye with Greg Gutfield on Fox News Channel or play on the computer. But Facebook can be a lonely place at 3 am unless you have friends in foreign countries or you know other locals with insomnia. Eventually I decided to try writing, which, by the way, is what I do for a living.

It was just like the old days when I felt free to be creative – just me, the pen, the purring of my kitty and the silence of a world at rest. But if I was up in the middle of the night writing, I’d require some amount of sleep during the middle of the day. Was that such a bad thing? I am a writer, as I have already established. Where do I need to be at 8 am? No where. Writers don’t work 8-5. My part-time PR gig affords me the leisure of coming in usually no earlier than 10 am, and I’m usually home by 1:30 or 2 in the afternoon – which, by the way, is a terrific time for a nap!

I check emails, return phone calls, do a bit of cleaning or grocery shopping before hubby comes home and I’m cooking bacon again. He and I spend our evenings together before he retires for the evening. Even if I’m not sleeping at his side for 8-10 hours every night, I am still at his side. He’s no worse for the wear, and I am at peace knowing that no one is missing out on anything by me working in the middle of the night for a few hours. Besides, what I’m working on at that hour could help pay the mortgage! And that’s never a bad thing.

So, if you’re sleepless in your town, check me out of Facebook. If I don’t answer, I’m probably just allowing creativity to rule the night.

The Canadian Tenors – Return to Music

The last nine years have been frustrating for me in many ways regarding what I witnessed on 9/11. So much was lost that day; for some the loss is unfathomable. For me I lost my sense of security, my conviction that, with time, all wounds heal and the feeling that I belong. And there is more but I can say that one of the things I lost that day is what hurts me the most: I lost music.

Music wasn’t especially a big part of my family but it was the biggest part of my life. I dreamed of performing on stage professionally for the rest of my life when I was in my youth! And even though I didn’t go on to become a Rock & Roll star, I still enjoyed performing through community theater well into adulthood. And music remained, flowing through my veins thicker than my blood. Music filled me with such peace and calm. The intricacies of every type of music and every instrument took me to the Throne Room of Heaven like nothing else could. I always felt enveloped by God’s love through the sounds of music.

And then life was interrupted. Research shows that people who are exposed to, are witness to or are the victim of a traumatic experience have those images almost seared into their memory, and as a result, many are diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder. A trauma is a wound; PTSD refers to a deep emotional wound. Among the many consequences is an emotional numbness which may present as a lack of interest in activities that used to be enjoyed; an emotional deadness.

My PTSD diagnoses came in 2005, four years after my 9/11 experience. I wouldn’t say that I was entirely dead emotionally but I certainly was numb. And I still am; numb to everything that once brought me great joy, including music. I listened to music constantly and only felt emptiness. The music of my favorite singers and musicians seemed to echo as it flowed flatly through my soul. Eventually, it stopped flowing altogether. I can’t even begin to describe how lonely it is to be without music. Turn it on and turn it as loud as you want, it won’t matter to me anymore. I got to the point where I though I would never find what I once had before.

And then I was introduced to The Canadian Tenors (www.canadiantenors.com). Let me preface this story by saying I am NOT an Oprah fan. But I turned on her show one day last month because my favorite singer, Celine Dion, was scheduled to appear. There was a time when Celine’s sweet, angelic voice could bring me to my knees, and even after 9/11, I still loved her voice. It just didn’t hit me like it used to. I knew she hadn’t changed; I had. So, I tuned in, and discovered the four men of The Canadian Tenors, who were under the impression they were on the show to highlight hot new acts. Instead, Oprah schemed to have Celine, their hero and inspiration as well, surprise them on stage to sing along on their hit song, “Hallelujah” (Cohen).

The instant (member) Fraser Walters opened his lips to sing, I stopped breathing. I didn’t need to breathe anymore because music streamed through my veins again and kept my heart beating through the entire song. Thinking it was a fluke; I downloaded their debut CD and have since felt emotions I haven’t felt in nearly nine years. Listening to these four amazing voices has left me smiling profusely, weeping with joy over the majestic sounds emanating from their vocal chords, striking my soul and returning me to the Throne Room as I did once before, and rejoicing in God’s handiwork. Their giftedness has allowed me to relax every inch of my body and rest, and believe me, that is not an easy task (hyper vigilance – another result of PTSD).

I wish I could say I have experienced the same emotions with other music but it hasn’t happened yet. But I am so thankful for what I have been able to feel through the music of The Canadian Tenors; so much so that I don’t ever want the feeling to end. Unfortunately, once the music stops, so do the emotions. But, wow – what a special, cherished gift I receive when I hear them sing.

Time to grab the MP3 player and return to the music.

Military Suicides

Here’s another fantastic post by guest blogger, J. Doug Settle.

Brigadier General Stephen J. Townsend, senior commander for the 101^st Airborne at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, recently communicated with his troops about the problem of suicide. He encouraged those who may be struggling with mental or emotional or spiritual issues to seek medical attention. It seems that the suicide rate at Fort Campbell is the highest in the Army. A recent article reported that there have been 11 suicides since the beginning of this year.

The General is reported as saying, “…remember this—suicidal behavior in the 101^st on Fort Campbell is bad…It’s bad for soldiers, it’s bad for families, bad for your units, bad for this division and our army and our country, and it’s got to stop now…” Gee. You think so?

It seems that Fort Campbell is not the only military installation to be experiencing the problem. Some studies suggest that, “Sixty-four potential active-duty suicides” have occurred in the Army ranks this year.

I can only imagine the frustration and concern General Townsend must be feeling. He is right to try and address the problem. It would be wonderful if his talk alone would produce the desired effect. But we know that it won’t.

The problems associated with contemplating suicide require answers that go very deep; including the realms of the mind, soul, and spirit. Though the military recognizes the seriousness of the problem, I don’t see them as always recognizing the kind of support needed to provide a lasting remedy.

Part of the problem is that the military chaplaincy has been hindered from performing a legitimate role as the ministers and shepherds of God’s Word. Their hands have been tied spiritually. They are forced to operate within very limited parameters. Our warriors are being shortchanged, all in the name of political correctness. It should be about the truths and teachings necessary that could bring about change and stability in the lives of the troops!

I was a light weapons combat infantryman who actively served in the Republic of South Vietnam from July 1970  through July 1971. Since returning from my tour-of-duty, having also been plagued with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, I determined to do as much research as possible until I discovered legitimate answers for dealing with the malady, including answers for managing suicidal thoughts and tendencies.

Forced to deal with stressors from the past and present, I have sought ways to handle the inner turmoil and pain. It has been a real struggle. I must add that for me, the practical answers, extracted from God’s written revelation, provided the promises, principles and provisions I needed to continue in life. The answers discovered in God’s Word can best help alleviate the pain, suffering and inner turmoil in the lives of our nation’s warriors.

Consider closely what Jesus Christ had to say: “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). “…I came that they might have life, and might have it abundantly” (John 10:10b).

When lives are rightly aligned with God’s Word and Will, God provides the practical wisdom needed, regardless of the difficulties one may be facing.

Some of my brothers have not survived their personal struggle with daily and delayed stress; deciding instead to take matters into their own hands. They have taken a giant leap into the dark. All they knew was that they were experiencing excruciating pain and suffering. They simply wanted the pain to stop and there seemed no way out of their stress predicament. What they did not know is that there was a better way, a sure way, a way which would allow them to work through the inner stressors. The abundant life that Jesus Christ promised could have overcome and overridden their problems in living. Leaping into the darkness, taking one’s own life, is never a viable option.

General Townsend exhorted the warriors to seek help if they were having problems. The warrior, at best, is hesitant to go forward due to the labeling and additional problems that could occur. The warrior could be construed as being weak, cowardly, unstable, unfit for service, a threat to the unit’s safety, etc. Seriously, who would want to go forward? It could prove to be a career ending decision. Future promotions could be negatively affected. The warrior understands only too well the pitfalls and feels compelled to try hanging in there the best way he knows how–gut it out!

The warrior, in some cases, will not be able to handle the severity of his problems on his own. Yes, he does need help, but little lasting help is assured. General Townsend also wanted others, who see a warrior struggling with suicidal symptoms, to turn those individuals in. Though a sincere proposal, the negative side effects of such action could develop into another shooting incident, such as was witnessed recently at Camp Liberty, Iraq.

When I finally removed from the battlefield in Vietnam, I became a counselor at “Project Help” in the Americal Division HQ. The Project was a program the warrior could contact with complete anonymity if choosing. No one could interfere with the process nor could negative repercussions ensue. Of course there were certain limitations to insure the safety of others. Under current circumstances, that project might be one General Townsend and the Army might want to consider implementing again.

I stand wholeheartedly by God’s answers. Why? Because I have been there! I am one who has personally struggled with PTSD. I have learned to manage suicidal tendencies. I understand the inner dynamics at play and the help that God has made available. I was fortunate to discover God’s answers; the same answers that He promises others. I would hope that the ministers, chaplains, those who desire to stand on the Judeo-Christian foundation this country was founded on, would be allowed to share the wisdom and direction from God’s Word with struggling soldiers who would desire that kind of direction. It is time to provide some real help to our wounded warriors.

J. Doug Settle
Author of From Stress to Faith Rest
www.jdougsettle.com

Guest Post – Stress Center Shooting

Once again, my good friend, J. Doug Settle, is sharing his thoughts with us. Today, the author of “From Stress to Faith Rest”, give us his insight into the recent shooting where one soldier gunned down five fellow soldiers at a stress center in Baghdad, Iraq. We lift up the men and women who bravely serve to protect our freedoms in prayer. And we pray for the families of those soldiers affected. A special thanks to Doug. Visit his web site to learn more: www.jdougsettle.com.

The details concerning the shooting at Camp Liberty in Baghdad, Iraq are still being processed. We can be certain that when all is said and done, when all has been researched and debated, when the professional and media opinions have been amply voiced, the real reasons behind the shooting will remain unexpressed. Granted, the stressors of combat most likely will have had a part to play in what caused the shooter to snap, yet there is a more disturbing reason behind the carnage; a reason that those who determine policy are unwilling to consider let alone accept and do something about.

I remember going through basic training and advanced individual infantry training, coming out of Fort Polk, LA, with a readiness and willingness to kill. We were well trained to do our job and do it efficiently. I was sent to Vietnam where I had an opportunity to express and fine tune my newly learned combat skills. I returned well suited for the job, yet my job duties were no longer required. I returned to the shores of the USA, having laid down my weapons of war, with the encouragement from everyone, “forget your experience and get on with life.” Wishful thinking on their part, but that was never going to happen!

You see, in all the training to kill, not once did anyone teach me how to live. I was never taught the first thing about maintaining one’s morals while successively engaging the enemy on the battlefield. They had not once taught me about the God who is there and who cares about everyone’s life. They had never taught me how to be a good soldier and still maintain one’s faith in God regardless of the circumstances. They had not said one thing about the Sovereignty and Providential care of God when one’s life or a buddy’s life was on the line. They had never once shared about how to apply by faith the spiritual promises, principles and provisions of God’s Word to practical everyday living while engaging the enemy in a hot LZ.

In all the professional training we warriors were provided, the spiritual side, that which we desperately needed to properly harness and utilize the combat skills ethically, remained untaught! Upon returning home, I was like a tank racing down a super highway with a blind man at the controls. As far as I know, the Chaplaincy had to abdicate their shepherding roles, seeking a compromise, to maintain a more general view due to diversity. It was either do that or suffer the consequences. The real answers spiritually were never communicated. The proper Biblical view of man, operating from the inside out, was never mentioned.  The spiritual side must come first for the physical expression to be appropriately demonstrated. Getting the cart before the horse does not work.

It can be argued by some that the moral and spiritual side is never to be the military’s responsibility and that those issues are to be learned at home, during one’s youth. Yes, that should have been the case, but preparing one for combat goes well beyond the benchmark for living life in America!  War includes grown up decisions that need to be made at very critical times while engaging the throes of combat. Training should provide the moral basics so the men going into harms way will have the moral clarity and divine wisdom concerning the job they are being asked to do!

OK, so what do I propose? What could have made a difference at the counseling clinic in Baghdad?

First, how about dropping the political correctness arguments like a hot potato and accept and reestablish the sure footed foundational faith structure that operated in this country at its inception? Contrary to the opinion of some, we were a Christian nation that maintained a Judeo-Christian ethic. It had as its basis the supporting structure of the Ten Commandments; which are recognized by many religions and peoples around the globe as applicable and vital to the life and integrity of any free society. One does not have to be a Christian for these principles to operate.

Second, how about no longer allowing those in opposition to proven moral principles and structures to call the shots? Why must the American people be forced to stand by and watch as the foundation crumbles under their feet? Why allow those without a moral driver’s license to take over at the wheel, thereby determining the direction this country is headed?

Third, how about a return to allowing and requiring men of faith and integrity to truly serve as spiritual shepherds by expressing the foundational spiritual truths to the men they counsel and minister with? Does it really make sense, due to political correctness, to leave the name God out when communicating spiritual truths? Must God continually be referred to as a “higher power” to placate those who do not believe in the one, true God? The minority, through their lawsuits, are forcing the majority to redefine their terms. Someone will be offended, so why not stick with the foundational structure that has made this nation great and let the detractors learn to simply live with it?

Fourth, providing stress centers is a good thing, but refusing to allow books, resource materials and ministers to communicate with those being counseled due to diversity and political correctness arguments, is like telling the patient who has strep throat that he needs antibiotics but being unwilling to provide them.

Doing and providing for the above suggestions would head off many problems down the line.  The impact of PTSD would be tremendously lessened. God stands behind every one of His promises. Failure to heed His rule of life will always cost something; perhaps, just as we have recently witnessed, the lives of six innocent warriors! Are we willing to continue watching our best winning the battles in combat, while being defeated among the many battlefields of life? Back to the basics!

Guest Post – J. Doug Settle

Jesus said,“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest…”
(Matthew 11:28 NASB)

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has presented real problems in living for many.  This is especially true in the lives of those combat veterans who returned and are returning from past and present wars. The problems have called for genuine solutions, but those currently in place seem to fall short of reaching a healthy and manageable goal. The question becomes: Are there really any legitimate answers for effectively dealing with or managing PTSD?

While I personally will not discount or endorse the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the many proposed remedies, I do support the solutions as presented in the Word of God for its proposals in dealing with this destructive malady. As the above verse promises, God offers those who are “weary” – tired, exhausted, or worn out – as well as those who are “heavy-laden” – carrying around a heavy burden in life, including dealing with matters stemming from PTSD – to come to Him. Those who do are promised “rest”; the kind of rest that brings peace of mind, inner harmony, a tranquil and refreshed soul.

Why then are many missing out on experiencing God’s rest remedies for their souls? Hosea 4:6 says, “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.” God wants us to take His Word seriously! God has provided His many promises, principles and provisions to live by. The wise man will hear and obey what God has provided. The problem occurs when the unbelieving man as well as the believing man will not pay attention to God’s Word and Will. PTSD will never be sufficiently personally dealt with until that aspect of life is finally decided on.

In my newly released book, From Stress to Faith Rest, I share my own combat experiences in the Vietnam War and my continued struggles with PTSD. I also go on to share God’s provisions for dealing with my problems in living. I would like to report that God has taken all the pain and horror away and that full healing has occurred. That would be untrue. What has happened is that God has provided legitimate answers for dealing with and managing the problems in living from the stressors inherent in PTSD. He has also provided His peace and rest, making those available to be expressed in my inner and outer life. In that sense, and that sense only, has healing occurred; at least in my case!

While there are some Biblical counselors who would discount the inner workings of man, my book goes on to express how the inner makeup of man is meant to function in life. There are diagrams included that help one understand the Scriptural dynamics involved and how God’s Word is meant to be applied in the crucible of everyday living.

Ultimate healing will one day occur in the lives of those who have personally trusted in the Person and Work of the Lord Jesus Christ, but for now, experientially, one must learn to rely on God’s Word and Will for living life. I have tested and tasted God’s word for over thirty five years and have discovered that Jesus’ promise of “rest” is true. After all, it is He who also said, “…I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me” (John 14:6 NASB). Are we willing to go to Him?

To find out more about my book,, visit my website, “Chapel at China Sea” at http://www.jdougsettle.com.

Post Op Observations: Who Cares?

Recovery from surgery has been two steps forward, one step back. And I don’t much like it like that. But, at least I’m taking two steps forward each time.

I continue to notice things here and there while I’m in recovery mode. I already commented on the best medicine in a previous post. But, I’ve also noticed some things that make me a bit blue. You find out who your friends are when you’re down and out. Sad, but true.

I’m not trying to focus on the negative. We have indeed been blessed beyond imagination during this time of healing. So many friends brought us delicious meals so that we didn’t have to worry about it. As much as I love my husband, he’s not the cooking kind of guy. I like Mac & Cheese, but not every night! My mother was here for two weeks to lend a hand. My mom is the greatest cook but the meals provided her the opportunity to do other things around the house and take care of me while Kurt was busy with work stuff. I received some terrific cards and notes from people wishing me well. Some people called, sent me an email or posted a note on my Facebook page. It’s been wonderful. All of it, and I am very thankful.

But, I was surprised and disheartened by the people who seemed MIA. It’s happened to me before. When I was diagnosed with PTSD a few years ago, some of my friends disappeared. One gal disappeared for several months and then sent me an email saying she heard I was “a bit down”. Hmmm… I’d say a suicide attempt is a bit more than “a bit down”. She knew what was going on. But she just wasn’t there.

I recognize that people have their own lives to lead. And sometimes life can be a struggle at best. Maybe they can’t handle someone else’s pain. Maybe they have too much pain in their own lives; so much so that they simply can’t add on someone else’s. Maybe they were busy and simply forgot. I find that one hard to believe though. Maybe they’re uncomfortable around someone else’s pain and don’t know what to do or say.

Whatever the excuse, it’s wrong. As Christians we are called to bear one another’s burdens. And sometimes those burdens are heavy and ugly. I’m amazed at the people who call themselves Christians who never even bothered to utter a word to us. And I’m hurt. And I’m bitter. And I don’t really want to see those people. I had more business associates that I never expected to hear from reach out to me while others never said boo. I had people I’ve never even met in person send notes of concern and well-wishes. Others remained silent.

All the while my heart has been hurt, I  have also taken the time to consider how I respond in times when someone is hurting or recovering from an injury or illness. I don’t want to seem braggadocios but I recalled even a few times when I was flat on my back where I reached out to some women who were hurting. I always try desperately to let people know they are being prayed for and that they have a friend, not just in me but in Jesus.

I will continue to examine myself. And I’m sure that with God’s help I’ll overcome my bitterness and hurt. In the meantime, I want to encourage you to reach out. Put your life on hold for three minutes and send an email or a text message or a card. Let them know who cares.

So Far So Good

After my diagnosis of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (thanks to my doomed suicide attempt), I was assigned to an out-patient mental health facility. The length of my stay would depend on my own participation, or lack thereof.

Initially resistant, I also looked forward to moving forward. The entire group consisted of about 18-20 (more or less) people at any given time and four licensed therapists. We would spend parts of our day in a classroom-type setting where one of the therapists would teach us all about depression, anger, grief, sadness and all the other emotions most of us were experiencing. Thanks to my own previous issues, depression and subsequent therapy sessions,I could have taught the classes myself. More often than not, I felt frustrated that we spent so much time on such elementary issues.

Other parts of each day – about two to three hours – were spent in smaller groups where we focused on one or two of people and simply let them talk. For me, this was the meat I was hungry for. This was also the place where most of the intimate details of each person’s plight came to light. The four therapists split up among two groups. Suzie and Mike led my group. The other two – whose names escape me for the moment – knew of my trauma and some of the details through bits and pieces I had revealed in “class” and through the regular check-in’s the therapists conducted with one another.

Lunch was also part of each day and provided a much more relaxed environment. The therapists often joined us during lunch if they weren’t involved in a private counseling session or in-take of another patient. One particular day, I stood next to one of the other therapists… we’ll call him Phil since I can’t seem to recall his real name. We greeted each other for the first time that day even though it was already lunch time.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“So far so good,” he replied. “You know, it’s like that joke – have you heard it? This guy jumps out the window of a high-rise building. On his way down, he passes a window washer who greets the jumper by asking, ‘How’s it going?’ The jumper says, ‘Oh, so far so good.’”

About 10 seconds of silence passed as I gazed at the look of shame, shock and despair on Phil’s face.

“Oh my gosh,” he exclaimed. “I am so sorry… I just realized what I said… are you ok?”

I blew off his ignorance with a smile and a “Oh, sure. I’m fine. No big deal.”

But I wasn’t fine. My mind’s eye returned to some of the images that put me in this hospital in the first place. I avoided him for the rest of the day and Suzie helped me lick my wounds. Eventually, Phil searched me out in genuine concern to profusely apologize again and to make sure I was ok. I appreciated his sincerity and concern for my well-being.

In the end, it all turned out ok. And in some ways, I can chuckle at the irony. And perhaps that’s why I am so incredibly careful of the words I choose to use around someone who may be in pain – with or without my knowledge.

And with each passing day I can say, so far so good.

Forgetting to Write

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I last wrote. I thought I would need to write more often, but, to be honest, I’ve been feeling great. I honestly thought I would write when I was feeling good in the hopes that I’d be able to allow for deeper introspection. But, I got to the point where I was writing only when I was feeling depressed. And that only made me feel worse. Since the 7th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I have felt great and haven’t struggled with any issues.

I find it odd that I have been feeling so great though. It’s not like I have been avoiding the issue. In fact, it’s quite in my face lately. I started a book and have been faced with my own trauma as well as others a lot lately. The book will be a compilation of stories from people who have been through a trauma, been diagnosed with PTSD, and then found a place of healing through their faith walk and through therapy. The purpose is to bring hope to others who have been through a traumatic event and haven’t found hope in their current situation.

It’s been a fascinating journey so far, and I am so honored to be able to write these stories. I just hope I do them justice! In my work on this book, I have been able to tell my story to a variety of people. Talking really is cathartic! It’s also been helpful to me to remember that I’m not alone in my struggle with PTSD. Hopefully others will find that same sentiment through the book.

I had the pleasure of speaking to the Carmel United Methodist Church a few weeks ago and shared my story. It was difficult, and I did have a few moments of flashbacks. But, it was also good because others were encouraged – or so they said! A few were profoundly impacted, and I am honored God was able to use me. And I want Him to continue to use me! No matter how difficult it becomes, His name be glorified!

If I have struggled with anything, it’s in a situation that came up a few days before the anniversary. I was already struggling a bit with some anxiety and grief. I had a meeting with a dear friend over some other writing opportunities he and I were exploring. In the course of our conversations, he divulged that he doesn’t believe the 9/11 attacks were caused by terrorists. He is a believer of the many conspiracy theories that float around. I did my best to share my own experiences with him so he could see it from an eye-witness account; and to see that there is no possible way our government was behind these horrendous acts of terror. He encouraged me to “prove” to him that he was wrong, and I am right.

I left the meeting in tears – a complete basket case. I knew they (conspiracy theorists) were out there but never thought I’d meet one. And I certainly didn’t ever think one of them would be someone I consider a friend. Thankfully, Bill Blew, a close friend and business associate (and Christian conciliator) came to the rescue and helped our mutual friend understand how his words were dangerous, especially for me. Our relationship was healed, thankfully. He remains a dear friend and always will be. Whether I have changed his mind or not, I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I know what I went through. I know the evidence presented, the research proved, and that I need to move on. And I can’t be responsible for other people’s beliefs. I just know that I need to honor God with my words and deeds, which brings me back to the book.

It is incumbent upon me to give people the hope that comes through the saving grace of Jesus Christ. And that can’t happen when I place false judgment on our government (whom God appointed) or on anyone else.

And so, I move on with the book. I hurt for people who have been through their own traumatic experiences and hope their participation will allow for additional healing for them and for those who will read the book.

Afraid of Going Back

I was so very excited when I started this blog. I didn’t think twice about the memories or the pain that might come back through those memories. In fact, I expected to find tremendous healing through the writing. I knew it might be painful but that’s why I call it the Journey Through the Great Sadness. It is a journey, and I expect to come out the other side well.

My PTSD symptoms came on not long after I relocated to Indianapolis nearly six years ago. The only problem is: I didn’t know that’s what was going on. I found ways of stifling what I was feeling. My husband and I and my wonderful mother-in-law took a trip to Iowa to see my brother-in-law and his friend three years ago. It was a wonderful long weekend with them but I can recall that as being the weekend where I started going downhill – fast. I can recall the overwhelming sadness and despair and pain. I still had no clue what was going on at that time. I just knew that what I was feeling was getting worse.

In recent days, I have struggled with those feelings again. Perhaps it’s knowing that the July 4th weekend marks the unofficial beginning of a painful journey. Perhaps it’s knowing the anniversary of the attack is just months away. I have felt a great deal of depression again although it ebbs and flows. (Today is a good day.) For that reason, I have been afraid of writing. I am afraid of going back to that place.

Part of me doesn’t want to think about it or talk about it or write about it. But I also know how cathartic it is for me to do all of these things.

My anxiety has been rather high too. The election is also a few months away and, for some reason, I can’t get it out of my head that there will be another attack either before the election or in the final days of President Bush’s term. My senses are heightened, and I hate that feeling. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulders to see who is possibly going to do what. I don’t want to go to a public place to celebrate our Independence Day. As much as I love racing, I don’t want to be here when the NASCAR Cup series comes to town for the Brickyard 500. I don’t want to be any place where there are large gatherings. Isn’t that silly? To be afraid of being in public.

I know another attack will happen. It isn’t a matter of if but when. I don’t want to be there when it happens. I don’t want to see it, smell it, hear it, feel it.

I’m afraid of going back.