IC Publishing Blog Tour—Navigating the Writing Path: From Start to Finish

Thank you to Tiffany Mason for inviting me to the tour sponsored by IC Publishing. Tiffany Mason is an international coach, speaker and author. Tiffany's upcoming book, The Power of Adversity- A Guide To Finding Your Greatest Gift In Life, is a combination between a personal memoir of her adversity of being sexually molested and a self-help guide that empowers women to overcome their challenges and start designing a meaningful life. You can find more information about Tiffany at tiffanymason.com.

1. Share how you start your writing project(s). For example, where do you find inspiration? Do
you outline? Do you jump right into the writing? Do you do all of your research first?

I am a sexual abuse/rape survivor who utilizes my experience as inspiration for my blog. During April 2014, Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I blogged every day, sharing a little piece of my story each post. I choose to be absolutely raw in my writing in order to show the ugliness of my reality. This has resulted in helping many survivors come forward. I continue to blog weekly about my adventure through Dialectical Behavior Therapy coping with PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder.

I normally do just jump into writing, because when the mood strikes, that is when it is best. I do not need to outline, because my posts deal with my personal journey. Occasionally, I will pull directly from my journal though.

2. How do you continue your writing project? i.e. How do you find motivation to write on the non-creative days? Do you keep to a schedule? How do you find the time to write?

In order to continue blogging, I remind myself how many people I am helping by giving firsthand insight to being a sexual assault/abuse survivor as well as a Borderline sufferer. On non-creative days, I tend to pull myself away from my blog, and do something else to keep my mind busy. I don't really need to keep a schedule, because my goal is if I write at least one post a week, that is all that matters. If I write more, then that is awesome. I find time to write by utilizing my son's sleep schedule and the down time I have each evening. I simply make it a priority amongst other hobbies.

3. How do you finish your project? i.e. When do you know the project is complete? Do you have a hard time letting go? Do you tend to start a new project before you finish the last one?

The last project I had was writing every day through the month of April. Sharing my story, as detailed as it was, was extremely challenging. Once I was finished, I felt sort of empty, as if I had no where else to go. I didn't start a new "big" project, but I made it a goal to continue giving insight on my journey through DBT as well as write opinion pieces on subjects that directly relate to my experience.

4. Include one challenge or additional tip that our collective communities could help with or benefit from.

My biggest tip to anyone who is having a writer's block is to journal! My rawness comes from my ability to write pen to paper. It is the way my mind processes things as I expel my words through handwriting that makes the difference versus typing. When you do write, never edit as you go, because it might deter from your point. Just write, then edit after.  This tips may be simple, but I see that a lot of fellow writers forget the simple things when they are stuck.

Next I'd like to introduce a good friend of mine, JoAnn Buttaro to continue the blog tour.​ JoAnn is a date rape survivor who has successfully completed counseling/treatment for PTSD and seen her attacker through two trials resulting in convictions for sexual assault and rape and him being sentenced to Life in prison. Since 2009 she has told her story to victim advocacy training groups, college campuses on the East and West coasts and Take Back the Night events. Her goal is to speak out on social media and publicly for those who are unable. JoAnn blogs almost daily telling her story one day at a time from her assault to counseling and two trials.


You can reach out to JoAnn and read her blog and tweets at:
BLOG: JoAnnSpeaksOut.blogspot.com
WEBSITE: www.JoAnnSpeaksOut.com
TWITTER: @JoAnnSpeaksOut

The Text and The Borderline

Texting has become one of the top forms of communications, and as much as it is convenient, I have grown to despise it. For quick bits of information, it is a prime selection, but when it comes to serious conversation, it really should be a no go. Yet many of my friends and family prefer this to talking on the phone.

It is annoying.

I am sure there are those who agree with me, but let me explain to you from my perspective why I many times pull out my hair when I receive a novel-lengthed text in response to an unanswered call. 

It is obvious that when someone tries to have a serious conversation via text messaging, it doesn't pan out, even in the sense of normal human beings. Throw Borderline Personality Disorder into the mix, and you might as well just say goodbye to any healthy interaction. Don't get me wrong, I often give in to the ease of telling my story with my thumbs, but internally, I am conflicted. Especially when I don't get a response back.

When you talk to someone on the phone, or face-to-face for that matter,  about something serious, there isn't a 2-24 hour wait for a response to your dilemma. Can you imagine if that were the case? Awkward. Also on the receiving end, could you imagine blindly staring at a loved one's face for half a day after they poured their heart out to you? I didn't think so.

Look, people are busy. I get that. I don't expect a text back for most things, but when there is a refusal to communicate ANY other way but by texting, it leaves me no choice but to ruminate while I'm waiting for responses to important texts. No one likes feeling ignored, but when you are a Borderline who already deals with abandonment issues, it can be extremely difficult to be rational in these instances.

The other problem is that emotion clearly can't be depicted when reading a text. There is no ability to gauge the writer's emotions or the reader's true reaction. What is left is the need to tip-toe around sensitive subjects, which can leave both parties unsatisfied. On the other hand, a misconception of meaning behind a text could start a full blown war.

How many times have you misconstrued something that was written and ended up being offended by it, when that wasn't the original intention? I am sure this has happened more than once. Now imagine being someone like me, whose negative emotions are amplified, then being thrown into that situation. Not a good mixture.

Granted, I have become better not to read too much into texts and/or friends' lag on responses, but it takes me hours of skill-working not to analyze these interactions. There were many a time where  friends of mine have completely dropped the ball on responding to something crucial, and I have fallen apart. I have to use all sorts of techniques to pull myself away from catastrophizing the moment, so that by the time my friend actually responds a day later and says, "Oh I am sorry I didn't get back to you...I was...blah blah blah," I have the ability to say, "No biggie" and actually mean it.

Things aren't going to change, and considering I just learned "Radical Acceptance," I need to just be okay with the fact that people may always choose to text rather than to call. However, wouldn't it do us all some good to revert a little?

Frankly...I'm Ticked

I came to realize that my latest post was missing a key component of my current status and that is for the past 24 hours, I have been internally fuming. Hear me out.

This past week has represented positivity in multiple forms, giving me the ability to capture the meaning behind my abuse. It seemed that a lot of things were falling into place, and my hard work in fighting against sexual violence was coming to fruition. I thanked God for these opportunities that have fallen on my lap, but did not rest in my endeavors.

Going into group, I had a strut in my step because I was indeed proud of myself for these accomplishments. I was excited and happy, which to my understanding, is something that is strived for when going through therapy, especially DBT.

My happiness was immediately shot down once I had my individual session. Now, I can't go into detail about the dialogue that occurred between my therapist and I, because it brings up specific scenarios from group, and to protect the privacy of other members, I must remain vague. The discussion surrounded around my persona, and how I conversed among the group members.

As my therapist described her interpretation of my word-for-word exchanges between the other girls, I was confused and irritated. This is why:

1. She had warped what I said into something that sounded ridiculous.
2. Everything was completely out of context.

Granted, I did ponder the possibility of me sounding the way she had depicted, because I can be a bitch, but I usually know when I have reached that point. The only thing I could do was go over everything that was said word-for-word between the other girl(s) and I. I knew for a fact I was being quoted incorrectly, and that peeved me off.

Her intentions were not to make me feel like crap, but that is exactly how I felt. I was ticked and I expressed that to her. She told me that was okay and to sit with it for a while. Twenty-four hours later, I still can't seem to get over this, and it really is minuscule in relation to the "big picture." The only reason I am this upset is because what started as a positive week, ended in me beating myself up for something I am not entirely sure I even did.

I trust my therapist in her analytics when it comes to my persona 99% of the time, but I'm still feeling a little weary about this one. The only thing I can do at this point is be more mindful of everything that comes out of my mouth, because frankly, I don't know who I am anymore.

This was not meant to be negative by all means, but just an observation of my current confusion with who I am in the eyes of others. I don't want to push people away, and have been working really hard not to offend others, but I suppose things aren't really as they seem.

Don't Cry Over Spilt Tomatoes

For the first time, in five weeks of DBT, I left group without feeling like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I don't know if it was going into group with a sense of pride over recent accomplishments, or the interactions amongst fellow members, but I didn't feel like crawling into a dark pit to wither away when I left the clinic. 

This week, we talked about "Radical Acceptance," which is something I have a hard time applying to the trauma in my life, but have recently applied to my condition. Radical Acceptance is the ability to completely accept reality as it is with your whole being. Sounds easy right? It really isn't.

Catastrophizing is the name of the game when it comes to Borderlines. Here is an example of how I handled a situation that people who are NOT emotionally dysregulated might consider insane:

A few years ago, my husband and I returned from a trip to the grocery store. I was already on edge, considering merely thinking about groceries sends shivers up my spine. The only thing that gets me through the ordeal is purchasing certain food items I spoil myself with. This day, I had purchased a couple of packages of golden sweet grape tomatoes. I was ecstatic. Being the macho man my husband is, and his refusal to make more than one trip up the three flights of stairs to our apartment, he attempted to carry all the bags in one heave. What started as a valiant effort, ended with my tomatoes scattered on the pavement, along with a broken jar of Prego that happened to smother my little delights. Between the shards of glass and sauce, it looked like the tomatoes had been shanked to death.  I was DEVASTATED, began yelling profanities, then bawled like a child. My day was ruined, and while I did my best to hide my turmoil, I failed.

This particular instance is menial in comparison to some of the major aspects of life that radical acceptance should be used for, but when you have Borderline, acceptance is essential when any type of shit hits the fan.

There are things I have recently chose to accept, and it has made it easier to go through the process. One of them is that I have Borderline Personality Disorder and my willingness to enter DBT has proven that I have radically accepted my condition. The other has to do with my frequency and intensity of flashbacks.

Up until this point, I had been fighting with every ounce of my being against the memories, which typically resulted in an extreme case of disassociation. This past week,  I recognized I had flashed back, observed my fear, grounded myself quickly before I had a chance to get sucked in, and went about my evening.

On the other hand, my husband was at a loss, because he realized there was no telling what could trigger my flashbacks. My answer to him was, "Honestly, I couldn't tell you either, but it could be anything and everything that is tied to my childhood. The fact of the matter is, we have to accept that I'm going to get them, and not let them destroy our intimacy"

How is that for radical acceptance?

 

More of the Same, Less of the Tame

After my most recent DBT group, I was more distressed than when I had walked in. It appears that has become the new norm. I once again spoke with my therapist about my unease and was shut down by the fact that she had to leave, which left me in the wake of imagined abandonment. My solution was to vent it out with some fellow group members while enjoying a single cigarette.

It turns out, I'm not the only one who breaks down post sitting through a two-hour session of learning how to deal with our emotions in a simple, yet practical way, that most humans should be able to grasp. However, us gifted, emotionally dysregulated peeps just can't seem to conceptualize that it is indeed our choice on how long our emotions hang around. 

So I sat and listened to the other members talk about the same problems I have, and felt a sense of security knowing I am not the only one who feels like a pre-schooler learning how to deal with the simplistic nature of being a human. For a moment, I could breathe.

Then everything exploded in my face once I got home. What started as a grain of anger between my husband and I, eventually transformed into me becoming manic. Skills were out of reach at this point because all rationality had escaped from my mental being. All I knew was I had to be safe, and calling for coaching wasn't an option because things were too heightened and I knew I had to act fast.

So I decided I needed to leave my house and go check myself into the hospital.  My husband thought otherwise and intercepted my decision to give up. Have I mentioned how blessed I am to have him in my life?  I was then able to light some candles and take a bath while exercising my breathing. Luckily, I managed to ground myself back to reality and make a plan for the following day. I began wondering what was happening to me, because at that point, I felt I was backtracking. 

The next day, I kept myself busy by donating plasma, going shopping with my mother and grandmother, getting some new running shoes....but amidst this, a tragedy hit my family. My great uncle Chelo had fallen off a tree while trimming it, and passed away. This news was delivered whilst spending time with my grandmother (Chelo's sister), and my mother and I had to remain vigilant for her.

I was in shock and returned home desperate to avoid a breakdown. I called my therapist for coaching, and wasn't sure why, other than I knew I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from using skills literally all day. I had nothing left to use. The last thing I needed was to wait until it was too late. Apparently, my choice to call was the right one and I was applauded for "coping ahead," which I guess is a skill I haven't even learned yet. A+ for me.

What I learned from my therapist was that feeling emotionally and mentally wiped doesn't mean I have backtracked. It simply means I am just working really hard to survive, so I must be doing something right. 

I Need Help, and That's Okay

At the beginning of this week I was more inclined to throw my DBT manual in the dumpster than to practice any skills. Then, there came an instance where my only choice was to follow the rules, and do what I could to focus on the different methods of distress tolerance.

As I have stated before, I suffer from disabling nightmares. Recently, I journaled about the frequency and severity of them:

"The dreams are no better than they were last week. I become part of his world...he overpowers my thoughts of safety. When I try to change the scenario, it just re-morphs into a nightmare. I'm always tired, always scared. It infiltrates my reality, disabling me from moving. I just want to be numb. I want to sleep in absolution. No dreams, just emptiness. Nothing is real. I feel like I am walking in a desolate world. My tethers to reality are starting to slip away."

It is easy to see how my constant struggle with nightmares and flashbacks resulting in a lack of sleep could turn into a desire to escape reality.

The other night, the nightmare happened to transition into a dissociative episode once I awoke. I became my 8-year-old self and was unfamiliar with my surroundings which just magnified the terror I was experiencing. The only thing my husband could do was try to remind me of where I am. Eventually I was in the fetal position on our bed sobbing uncontrollably and barely able to breathe. I was forced to use self-soothing skills in order to calm my self back into a working slumber.

Within 48 hours after my episode I went through every single one of the other skills I had learned the previous DBT group session. Even more surprising was that I gathered the courage to call for coaching, because I felt myself starting to slip. Making the call was the hardest thing I have done in a while. Simply because in doing so, I was admitting that I needed help, and for those who know me, I am a stubborn mule when it comes to requesting assistance.

It was the first time I was able to say, "I am not doing well, and I need help" and feel absolutely no shame in doing so.

Will She Sing?

Today, I took a big step in posting my newest composition to YouTube. I am typically self-conscience about my music, and considering the piece was about my sexual assault it was even more difficult to release it to the public. As discussed in one of my posts during Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I had written music in the past about my trauma, but never as raw as my recent piece.

I wrote the lyrics from a third person perspective, because many times when I disassociate, I feel I am outside of myself looking down at the part of me that is still a victim. There is a dream of earthly justice, that I will never receive, and by composing this song, it gave me a sense of closure, at least about the unfairness of it all.

Knowing I would be emotionally vulnerable, even to the point of tears, reaffirmed that I had to be forthcoming with posting my song. It seemed more appropriate to do it via video than just recording an audio track. The video is below and I included the lyrics as well. I love you all. (On a side note, when I recorded this, I didn't have a title for the piece. I think I settled for the title of this post. Maybe I'll change my mind, but I think it fits).

 

 Will She Sing?

She builds her wall brick by brick

Until the thought of it just makes her sick

She can't block out all her fears

From being shackled to him many years

What does it matter?

It's in the past...

At least that's what they tell her

When the nightmares are coming fast

He holds her down and steals her youth

Her cries of pain become quickly mute

As his hand covers her mouth

He scares her into shame and doubt

What does it matter?

Just let it go...

That's what they keep telling her

As she screams no

Will they listen if she's gone?

Will they finally say he was wrong,

When he tore away her soul?

She has no where else to go...

She fights the urge to appear weak

But when in silence, the memories reek, so

She uses men to mop her tears

Before she puts away a few more beers

What does it matter?

Just let him win...

 That's what she tells herself

As she washes down the pills with gin

Will they listen when she's gone?

Will they finally say he was wrong,

When he tore away her soul?

She had no where else to go...

Will you listen now that she's gone?

Will you finally say he was wrong,

When he tore away her soul?

You can't just let him go...

Well he grins with no remorse

As they beat him down with force

The game is up they said

As she wakes up in her bed...

Will she sing now that he's gone?

Will she stop saying she was wrong,

When he tore away her soul?

She can finally let him go

She can finally let him go

She might just let him go...

Diabolical Bologna Therapy

Considering I am only three weeks into DBT, it is no surprise that I am feeling more helpless than when I began. There is nothing more invalidating, or offensive, than using skills, having them not work, failing, and being told, "Well, let's try some different skills." My answer, specifically in my most recent session, "Eff skills."

That apparently is a common reaction to Dialectical Diabolical Behavior Bologna Therapy. 

Sorry, I can't help but be somewhat sarcastic about the whole thing.

When I go into group and half of it is spent focusing on the five senses and how they can produce a self-soothing environment, it almost makes me feel like I'm in elementary school. My stubbornness and pride in intelligence refuses to see the rationality in these solutions. Granted, yesterday I was already in a vulnerable state, and instead of admitting that to my group leaders, I pushed it aside and let it control me.

I had suffered from an unexpected flashback that left me with a continuing reel in my head of his voice reminding me that I was worthless. I went to group already thinking dark thoughts. I decided after group to admit to a group leader I was feeling vulnerable and in order to remain safe she got rid of some pills I had on hand. 

I know it is almost impossible to comprehend that I had to protect myself from myself, especially when I value so much in my life. It is true, I love so many people, but I fail to love myself. It is a part of the BPD complex that creates a cycle of self-hate, suicidal thoughts, guilt from feeling suicidal, self-harm, guilt from self-harm....it just keeps going and going.

I went home after group feeling empowered for getting rid of my pills, but then I felt alone. I was by myself, and sadness set in. The flashback I had pushed away for a majority of the day flooded back full force and I couldn't bring myself to utilize any helpful skills or call for coaching. I failed and experienced somewhat of a "lashing" in my next session.

When I admitted to my therapist that I had solved my problem with an unacceptable behavior, she was rightfully frustrated and scolded me. She reminded me of my issue with asking for help, and also pointed out that I let my intelligence get in the way of my ability to utilize skills. In essence, my high IQ is blocking my emotional intelligence. I push away the rationality of self-soothing, or performing cave-man tasks because it seems so elementary and couldn't possibly solve MY problems. 

The reality is, I am hurting, and I can't be afraid to admit that when it is eating away at me to the point of self-harm or suicide. I can't be ashamed that I feel that way, because I shouldn't expect that only three weeks in that I'm going to be automatically washed of my diagnosis. DBT isn't about curing, it is about making a life worth living, even while suffering from an illness like Borderline Personality Disorder.

To my readers, I promise to keep being honest. Albeit shame of my constant turmoil, it would do no good to others,  who are similarly afflicted, to hide what I'm truly experiencing.

Screw Mindfulness

I would love to have the luxury of throwing in the towel when it comes to the battle with DBT. Two weeks in, and I am finding myself more prone to every negative emotion that exists. For those who aren't familiar with Borderline Personality Disorder, emotional dysregulation and negativity are not a good pair. 

For a normal person, negative emotions like sadness come and go like the gentle waves washing ashore at a steady pace. BPD emotions are like a tsunami; they build up slowly, but gain tremendous momentum, and once they hit, the damage can not be undone and the cleanup is atrocious. 

In my last post, I spoke of my frustration at the constant use of skills as a "crisis management." It can be helpful when dealing with the little headaches in life that I quickly catastrophize into migraines; however, when dealing with trauma memories, they have been less than helpful. 

I am aware that skills aren't meant to wash away the pain; they are simply used to take down heightened situations a couple notches. The thing is, I may be able to hold some ice and prevent a massive breakdown, but it leaves me unable to process the memories that press so heavily on my consciousness. 

I feel when I'm utilizing skills that I'm giving in to another type of suppression. Granted, it is healthier than alcohol abuse or cutting myself, but it still is doing what I wish NOT to do. How can I deal with the memories if they are muted by distractions, and endless pros and cons lists?  It doesn't change the fact that I still hear his voice telling me that I'm not good enough and not worth living.

I was on the phone with one of my best friends the other day and started bawling because I was sick of feeling out of control. I hear all the time that DBT is teaching me how to control these emotions, but I feel that I am failing to do that. I so desperately wish I could stop having days where I am struck by a "tsunami" that pushes me towards self-harm and suicidal thoughts, but I'm not there yet.

I know I have at least six months left of DBT, so I should probably give myself a break, and also give my therapist the benefit of the doubt. Yet, I can't help but feel like I am a child that was never taught how to do simple things like cry properly. In turn, the discussions in group and the homework assignments seem elementary resulting in my intelligence being challenged. I pride myself in being wise, so when emotional regulation is dumbed down in the form of an acronym, and I am incapable of putting it into practice, my internal tantrums begin.

I quit. 

But just one more week...

Okay. I can do this.

Nope. Nope...

BAH! 

Stupid mindfulness...screw mindfulness...

I love Link...keep going.

I love Greg...keep going.

I want to live...

KEEP GOING. 

Summer, Solidity, and Skills

After we experienced a horrendous Winter here in these parts, it is no surprise that Summer was welcomed with open arms. I, for one, was excited to have the sun back in my life, as I thought the extra light would lessen my misery. But I'm going to be honest and say so far, summer, you suck.

In previous blogs I have mentioned how my social life has been chiseled away to almost nothing, and that my readers, is all because of summer. The sun comes out and every one leaves. I typically don't do anything particularly exciting in the summer, and when I do, like my vacation to North Carolina, it is usually filled with some type of unbearable anxiety that ruins the whole adventure.

My only social interactions, besides my family, are included in work, my therapy sessions, and my DBT group. 75% of that isn't authentic. I miss my friends, a lot. I have been dreading the lonely days at home with my little boy, and while I could go out and keep myself busy, it isn't the same as having those nights to myself with my girlfriends.

Summer is about the beach, camping, grilling, and hella amounts of watermelon. While I do like grilling and watermelon, the beach is anything but appealing and camping is something I only do when in a complete comfort zone because of the ties to my childhood. So what am I to do? Let peeps have their fun, and pray for the end of summer when availability reappears.

In spite of my solidity, my emotions build up faster and stay with me longer. Dialectical Behavior Therapy is all about skills and my therapist relishes in piling them on. Her answer to everything is in the form of a worksheet. Most of the times this makes sense, but some days, it gets annoying and makes me feel even more helpless.

Yesterday (July 3), regardless of the amazing weather, I was in a super depressive and angry state. I have been suffering from some continuing nightmares that put me into sleep paralysis, lowering my amount of healthy sleep and resulting in increased vulnerability. So when one of my ceramic plates fell out of the dish-rack and shattered into pieces on our kitchen floor, it was my breaking point. My answer, instead of using a book full of skills, was to start punching things.

I tried to attack gentle items like my pillows and mattress, but it wasn't satisfying enough. So I punched a door, hard. The pain shot through my knuckles and I fell into a heap of tears on the floor, realizing crying is probably all I really needed to do to feel better.

In an attempt to be honest, I spoke with my therapist after DBT group about the nightmares and what had happened that day. Part of me was hoping she could see I was in turmoil, and I'm sure she did, but her reaction was one of which I'm too familiar with. "Well I can give you a sheet on nightmares, and here are some skills you can use."

What I heard was, "I wanna go home, like now."

I realize I over analyze things, which is a trait of my BPD. Now I have to utilize skills in order to not be royally pissed off that my therapist told me to use skills.

How warped is that?