Heal PTSD with a glass of water? You betcha! Our health takes a rapid-pitch decline after the scam. A tonic for recovery comes in a humble glass of water.
Heal PTSD with a glass of water…? One glass may not change our world, but drinking that first glass then another and another marked a turning point for me from adrenaline overwhelm and trauma-survival-habits to healing.
In the aftermath and the initial shock in post-trauma eating wasn’t on my radar, and drinking meant coffee or wine.
For each of us as we scurry and panic and fly running errands to untangle the messes left behind by these creatures, the last thing we think about is preparing nutritious meals for ourselves. – As if we could choke them down.
Our subconscious mind is a powerful thing. Our sleeping mind, our dreams hold the key to unlocking self-doubt, anxiety and fears.
Our sleeping, subconscious mind is on our side. Nightmares aren’t just a horror show, without the popcorn, they show us how amazing and courageous we are, even in the face of fear.
The subconscious mind is a storehouse of our experiences and what they mean to us. They’re housed in the limbic system of our beautiful brain. After trauma, the waking fear can paralyze us in depression and anxiety. Nightmares plague many of us in PTSD. Have no fear, sleep and see what stuff our dreams, and we, are made of.
Nightmares: A Gift From the Subconscious Mind
We really do have all we need inside our selves. One of the most underused resources to our inner life and inspiration and “self-knowingness” is our dreams, the kind we have in bed at night, and housed in the subconscious, limbic brain.
By writing down our dreams the morning after as we wake up we can find many clues and answers to what we want, how we’re doing, and who we are. What we need, what’s going right, what we need to do next.
It may sound absurdly simple, and a little too hippy-dippy, but don’t discount it yet, we don’t want to lose out on something significant and helpful in our recovery, we need real support where ever we find it. The power of our subconscious mind is not to be underestimated… we can reign it in to support us.
“Every time you dream, you are washing upon the shores of your own inner landscape.” ~ Dylan Tuccillo
As we go to bed tell ourselves to remember our dream.
Have a notebook or paper and a pen or pencil nearby.
Sleep, dream. And wake.
Grab that paper and pen and write what we remember of our dream.
Start with whatever’s in our head and keep going.
No worries about the beginning, middle, end. Just write.
Keys to what we were really dreaming about fly from our pen to paper.
The Subconscious Mind at Work
One of my nightmares filled me with awe and appreciation for myself. In the dream, I wake up in the middle of the night and walk into my kitchen. On the way there, those gigantic, outdoor type cockroaches we have so many of in Southern California, tons of them, are crawling along the floor. Nightmare. Horrific. Traumatic.
I had on fear, no anxiety. Instead, I found myself in awe of myself, and of my life, and life itself.
Next, I’m spraying the roaches with a bottle of bleach and water. It’s scary and revolting and I don’t want to do it. It’s gross. I hate them. Then the bugs are gone, but my laptop, the one I write from daily, is in the middle of the kitchen floor in a flood of water. I pick it up and tip it to drain the water out. I’m estimating the damage and thinking of how to get the water out.
The laptop gets smaller in my hands, as things in dreams can. I observe that I”m thinking while dreaming: That I believe it will be okay.
Then, a fire starts inside the computer. I blow the flames out and place it on my desk. It’s very small now and thick, all one piece, like an old, clunky cell phone.
The Podcast: Narcissistic Abuse Unwound
Subconscious Mind Revelations
As I’m thinking about how to keep the laptop working, it comes to my dreaming mind that it’s amazing that I do so much on this slow, chugging laptop.
And then, I marvel, still in the dream, at how I took care of the problems of the roaches and rescuing my computer, my life-line. Tgus translates to a conscious mind realization of how well I handled the nightmare escape from a sociopath. My marvelling at myself was a form of gratitude for mtself and for all the hard work this rickety-laptop does for me.
Waking Up from a Nightmare
Once awake, as I sat myself down with my morning French press so-strong-you-need-a-spoon-coffee, I wrote out my dream as it came back to me. As deeper-psyche, unseen-things from the subconscious mind, the stuff behind all the elements and happenings of the dream, fell onto the paper, lo-and-behold!
Keywords describing the real truth of the dream popped out at me, my sleeping, subconscious mind was on my side. I felt better, and better as the ideas and meaning within the dream spilled out of my still-asleep mind, rolled through my hand, and moved my favorite pencil across the clean white paper.
As I wrote down the dream-scenario of killing the bugs, what I had to do to accomplish their slaughter poured out of my subconscious mind. Thoughts I hadn’t had as I was dreaming, like, I had to chase these disgusting roaches down, to really go after these slippery, scavengers in order to win.
And, I observed that, even in fear, I was relentless, aggressive, and persistent. I didn’t give up, or let go of the conviction in what I wanted, not even in challenges that nearly stopped my heart, and filled me with consuming-dread.
And, suddenly, the magic subconscious mind’s message appeared: It wasn’t those nasty bugs I was dreaming about after all: It was me, and how I am in my life.
And the laptop in a puddle and then on fire? My response to that revealed how resilient I am. That, no matter what, I find a way. And that realization led to conscious awe and gratitude I hold for myself, and always, for turning my hideous time with a con maninto a positive.
I had on fear, no anxiety. Instead, I found myself in awe of myself, and of my life, and life itself.
A nightmare-dream reminder that I’m doing okay. And that I handle things well and am resourceful, and I can count on myself. I wouldn’t know that if I hadn’t written the dream down. Instead, I woulda been bugged by those bugs all day.
Add these to your contacts so you don’t miss a newsletter! jennifer@truelovescam.com info@truelovescam.com
As a certified coach, upholding industry standards I strive to inform, educate, invite thought and dialogue, to co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach, guide and coach people in guided recovery and discovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more. You decide what winning is.
Affiliate links are in every True Love Scam Recovery article. Clicks on these links provide minor compensation to keep the site running. www.truelovescam.com and its agents are not licensed as attorneys, medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or therapists. See the entire and full True Love Scam Recovery Privacy Policy and Legal Agreement and Disclaimer here. Thank you.
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As a certified professional coach upholding industry standards and ethics, I strive to inform, educate, co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach and coach people in guided discovery-recovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more.
Heal, recover, trust again: it’s all possible.
As a certified coach and as someone who’s lived through this nightmare and won, I can tell you, there’s nothing wrong with you; there’s everything right with you.
Sessions are a guided journey at your pace through discovery building a deep and expanding recovery. In a combination of questions, information, dialogue, guidance, and coaching together we unwind the tangled mess clearing your way out of the emotional, mind-bending maze.
No two sessions are alike. The dialogues are unique and coaching is improvisational based on where you are and inspired by your needs, your personality, and what’s important to you.
We begin from where you are and find the way to where you want to be. Each session is unique to you.
Together we map your way out of hell. Session notes and summaries become a reminder and guide.
Add these to your contacts so you don’t miss a newsletter! jennifer@truelovescam.com info@truelovescam.com
As a certified coach, upholding industry standards I strive to inform, educate, invite thought and dialogue, to co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach, guide and coach people in guided recovery and discovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more. You decide what winning is.
Affiliate links are in some True Love Scam Recovery articles. Clicks on these links provide minor compensation to keep the site running. www.truelovescam.com and its agents are not licensed as attorneys, medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or therapists. See the entire and full True Love Scam Recovery Privacy Policy and Legal Agreement and Disclaimer here. Thank you.
After the sociopath, we’re left with many things. Mostly super icky things. We need to find the good after the sociopath walks out.
After the sociopath walks out we’re each left with a basket of garbage and rubble we need to turn to great good for ourselves.
We might be left with some good things we can spot right off the bat; definitely, we’re left with some not-so-good things that require persistent and courageous attention.One of those such things that I haven’t gotten a grip on yet is fat.
I’m not a woman who strives for Skinny-Minnie. The opposite: the idea of being too thin freaks me out. Seeing so many size-two and under tiny, little boyish-waifs who refuse to eat pasta, bread, French fries, cheese – no nuts unless they’re raw, organic almonds. It’s exhausting.
Certainly, they eat no butter, bananas (too much sugar content), or heaven forbid – ice cream – at least not in public, I can’t handle that. Ice cream…? Who doesn’t need ice cream once in a while?
Find the way back to you. Get them out of your bones.
Rapid and scary weight loss is part of the ride out of hell after a sociopath. First I dropped two clothing sizes practically overnight after the monster checked out. Then gained those and two more.
Yes, count ‘em, that’s an upswing of four clothing sizes. Yikes, so I’m carrying around an extra two-sizes of behind. Let’s say two and a half. I don’t know my weight in numbers; I don’t have a scale. I find them brutally demeaning. I weigh heavy, meaning I can carry more weight than I look like I do.
PTSD and Sustained Trauma Make Us Ill
Many of us are left with our health torn apart after the sociopath walks out. Do what works. Bit by bit life gets better after the sociopath walks out.
I also battled being sick a lot after the sociopath, so there were days – weeks at a time that I skipped exercise because of migraines, outbreaks on my hands of blisters that bloom with stress, or a cold, which I started getting every three to four months v.s. once in three to four years pre-sociopath.
The Return to Exercise and Health
As chub-lade and sluggish as I am, I barely make it through a yoga class. I tried. The teacher kept singling me out to ask if I was alright, as my belly fat blocked me from bending and gyrating myself into a crescent side twist. Under her yoga-perfect scrutiny, my size grew alarmingly.
My now super-huge thighs and extra-fat feeling knees left me unable to rest in child’s pose. At every solicitous query into my okay-ness I wanted to knock her in the head. Or scream, No. I’m not okay. I’m fat! – And out of breath. And nearly collapsing to the floor.
Heavy and Lumpy
After the yoga class humbling, I tried walking for exercise outdoors. Embarrassingly, I feel too fat to walk! There’s a rolling sensation from ample ass and back-side through my hips and groin and thighs rendering a rhythmic, lumpy duck waddle.
It’s disheartening living in stretchy jeans (in a size I abhor) and long-sleeved tee-shirts in a world where women wear skinny jeans and tiny body-skimming tops that show their exercised and tanned arms and short or long sundresses – called town gowns – year-round.
Fatty-Fatty Two by Four
And sometimes, alone, at home where no one can see me, I think I’m still beautiful and wonder why it matters. Then someone asks me to go to a concert or a show – and I say, “No.” – Because I truly have nothing to wear.
I’ll not buy a little black dress to cover this. It would look so bad to my eye that I would crumple and cry before I got out the door. And heels make the impression of a huge, lumpy olive on top of a spindly toothpick. Horrible aesthetics. Sigh.
The Bright Side
I console myself that I have nice feet and a good pedicure in year-round sandal country. Killer hair too. Sorry to be so superficial, but every bit counts right now. But, neither of those are health risks.
I know, I know, we might say all of this is ego, or superficial. Maybe. But I feel it all in quiet agony. And – the thing is – I feel my body freezing up; I used to do all this close-to-impressively-advanced yoga, and walk, and feel like a dancer, a swan – able, competent.
Health Matters Most
What if the roots of some serious illnesses are developing here? High blood pressure and high cholesterol or heart disease or diabetes. Surely it’s best to lose weight. But… dieting? It makes me nervous. It makes me eat… more.
So on a significant day for me, I took myself in hand. December 4th marks the day I began practicing the Buddhism I practice with SGI… something to celebrate.
But, on this year when December 4th came around, I was bedridden with a cold; it looked like a dismal day of defeat. I decided this would not be the case. I vowed that despite outward appearances, despite not feeling like moving, I decided today would be the day I became an athlete.
A yoga-lete, I coined the name – unless that already exists somewhere out there – because I want to live my life doing yoga and walk-jogging and hiking. So, that day I got myself together. I’ve heard so many times that you can “walk yourself fit”. So. Here I go. I will let nothing stop me. Start where I am and walk it off. Grateful for moving.
I went for a 30-minute walk in the neighborhood avoiding people. I ignored my rolling rear-end. At a mid-height garden wall, I lifted my legs and used it to stretch. I said, “I’m an athlete; a yoga-lete.
This is the first day of being an athlete.” The following day I said, “This is day two of being an athlete; a yoga-lete!” – and did some stretches. I felt good keeping my word to myself and said, “It may not look like it, but I’m a yoga-lete.”
The next morning, I woke up smiling. Looking forward to how cool it’ll be to see my tummy shrink back into its proper place.
On that day – Day three – I went for a 30-minute walk, more vigorous, though nothing truly athletic, but outside, where people could see me. I passed The Peninsula Club on South Santa Monica Blvd, and witnessed a man and woman climbing out of a Ferrari. He lifted her with a hand leveraged in his.
He looked typical Beverly Hills with jeans, a Kitson-perfect tee-shirt, and the right hat and sunglasses. She looked ridiculous-ish. She was über slender, short, as is the norm here in HollywoodLand, but made tallish in extreme platform heels of 5 inches giving her feet the flexibility of a horse hoof.
She wore all black. A short black dress, her black hair in a meticulous up-do. Dark, updated, Breakfast at Tiffany’s sunglasses, and because it’s winter in Beverly Hills – a black fluffy wrap held close around herself, clutched in her hands in front of her rail-thin body.
As we can all now recognize a sociopath when we see one – we can read people in general. The “read” evoked involuntary laughter – after she walked by. She had her head held as if in mockery of a high fashion model’s fish lip, sunken cheek haughtiness as if to telegraph “I’m so beautiful.”
Vapid, empty, like a cutout paper-doll. She took it all so seriously walking the same attitude; one foot placed directly in the path of the previous step, the far-apart, inner edges of her thighs only striving to meet.
She rolled forward in awkward rotation, roiling from her hips and back-side as I did! – So. Wow. I walk like a faux-fashion model without even trying!
Day 4. I did a two-mile walk exercise video with closing yoga stretches in my apartment hosted by Leslie Sansone. I even broke a sweat. I’m an athlete. I’m a yoga-lete. I’m a fashion model, yoga-lete walkin’ It off after the sociopath walks out. We’re pretty awesome…
And, you know what? Now neuroscientists have proof: diets don’t work. Eat intuitively. Live intuitively. Trust out lives. Here’s a TED Talk about this…
Add these to your contacts so you don’t miss a newsletter! jennifer@truelovescam.com info@truelovescam.com
As a certified coach, upholding industry standards I strive to inform, educate, invite thought and dialogue, to co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach, guide and coach people in guided recovery and discovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more. You decide what winning is.
Affiliate links are in every True Love Scam Recovery article. Clicks on these links provide minor compensation to keep the site running. www.truelovescam.com and its agents are not licensed as attorneys, medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or therapists. See the entire and full True Love Scam Recovery Privacy Policy and Legal Agreement and Disclaimer here. Thank you.
