On to Oz: Healing Complex PTSD

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When I was a kid, my favorite film was "The Wizard of Oz."  The part I enjoyed most was at the beginning, when Dorothy found herself in Oz, one of the wicked witches was killed, and suddenly Dorothy, the Munchkins, the yellow brick road, and all of Oz  shifted magically from appearing in shades of gray to blooming in glorious, vibrant color!  And then Dorothy knew she was no longer in Kansas.  She was in a strange, new place which was definitely NOT Kansas--although she was not sure just where or what it was. 

Well, before I began therapy this time and for a while after I first started down that road, I had my share of what I call "Alice in Wonderland" experiences when I experienced derealization and depersonalization, both sensations that are sometimes part of PTSD.  At those times, the world appeared distorted, and I felt invisible.  I also lived in Dorothy's Kansas and experienced my life in shades of gray.  Last Monday, though, after working hard for three long years, I had what I call my "Oz" experience, for suddenly my gray Kansas world bloomed into gorgeous Technicolor Oz. I knew that, like Dorothy, I was no longer in Kansas, so to speak.  Last Monday's experience, unlike my "Alice in Wonderland" experiences, is an experience I'd like to remember, for it's a keeper!  It's where I want to go. 

First, a little background:  I have been in ego state therapy now for three years, trying to get to the point where I can safely experience EMDR.  My therapist is highly competent and has been working with trauma survivors for about thirty years, and I have a lot of confidence in her.  How, might  you ask, can I possibly afford to see this therapist twice a week for three years?  The answer is that I have Medicare, which pays about 55% of the fee, and I also have expensive but excellent coverage through my Washington State Retirees health insurance.  I have no co-pays when I see my therapist.  If I did not have this coverage, I could not afford the therapy.  I count my blessings.

My treatment for Complex PTSD is NOT short-term cognitive behavioral therapy!  I am well socialized, am not addicted to any substances, and have never had a problem holding down a job.  My social skills are good, and I have a strong work ethic.  So, why have I been in therapy for the past three years?  What's my problem?

My PTSD symptoms--flashbacks, numbing, dissociating, suffering bouts of derealization and depersonalization--were making my life so miserable that I had reached the point where I did not want to leave my apartment.  One day, when I had an especially frightening flashback while riding public transportation, I knew I needed to find a therapist who could help me, and that's what I did.  Of course, I could have given in and simply stayed in my apartment except for brief, miserable trips to the grocery store, but I got angry instead.  When I get angry, I take action.

After all, my symptoms were the result of damage done to me by other people.  I knew that!  I decided that I was not going to give in and give up.  I decided I was going to repair the damage rather than give up on life and give in to the bastards who damaged me.  The people who neglected and abused me and caused the trauma damage are either dead or are living their own lives with no apparent thought of remorse for what they did to me.  I wanted to live the last part of my life without Complex PTSD, without the constant reminder of the violence inflicted on me by others.  I wanted to heal my brain and my mind so I could experience life as I was meant to experience life when I was born. 

Thus, I began this therapeutic journey three years ago, in April of 2010.  I'd been in therapy before, but my previous therapists had not been trained specifically in long-term trauma work.  This time I knew the sort of therapist I needed, and after searching long and hard, I found my present therapist.  She and I have had our ups and downs, but neither of us has ever given up on the other.  And now I can say that I feel I'm on the yellow brick road, heading for my goal. 

So back to last Monday:  When I got out of bed that morning, I felt different.  Something was missing.  Later, I realized that the "something" was the fog or cloud that is normally present in my psyche.  On Monday, I felt the way I do when I'm getting fitted for eyeglasses--I looked into various lenses, and then suddenly one lens allowed me to see perfectly!  No distortion, no cloudiness, no fuzziness!  I could see clearly!  That is the way life looked on Monday.  Clear and wonderful.  On the way to my therapy appointment, I walked past a bed of tulips.  Wow!  The intensity of the colors blew me away!  I'd heard people exclaim over tulips, and I'd always thought they were pretty, but on Monday I could see their vibrant yellows, pinks, reds, and lavenders.  I understood, then, why people exclaimed over them. 

Not only could I see, but I could feel!  When I reviewed in my mind my experience at the Good Friday service I had attended a few days earlier, I wept.  The words in my Book of Common Prayer caused me to weep.  The interactions I observed between adults and children touched me on Monday as they never had before. "Is this what it's like to not have Complex PTSD?"  I asked myself that question.  My answer was, "Probably, yes."  I could see and feel to an extent that I had never before, in my memory, at least, experienced.  I thought to myself, "If this is what life is like without the fog of Complex PTSD, then I want it!  I want this life!  I want to live!" 

Monday evening, around 9:30, as I was watching a movie on television, I returned to Kansas.  As I sat there, I became aware of a cloud blanketing my mind, my insides became tense, and the old fuzziness of inner vision settled upon me.  I did not become alarmed, however, and I did not become disappointed or angry.  I just "went with the feeling" and felt grateful for the single day of clarity and feeling. 

Because I had that one day of feeling and seeing clearly and experiencing life without the fog or cloud covering my emotions, I know what it is that I am working toward.  I also know that something is changing in the very structure of my brain, something is shifting.  And what is happening is good!  I'm healing.  So I'll just keep on truckin' and see what the future brings.  I've had a preview of Oz, and that's where I'll aim myself. 

As I said earlier, therapy for Complex PTSD is not short-term.  Certainly not in my case, at any rate.  There is no quick cure, and taking a pill won't make C-PTSD go away.  But C-PTSD can be healed!  That's the good news.  If one works long and hard, it's possible to undo much of the damage and heal sufficiently to make life a lot more livable.  I have succeeded in controlling my symptoms sufficiently to make my life a lot more fun and a lot less stressful.  Now I'm working on controlling the coming and going of that cloud that comes between me and the land of Oz.  I'll get there--I know that!  I'll just keep walking the path, the yellow brick road.  You can get there, too.  Here is a line from Shakespeare that might help:

“The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.” 

"The best way to get revenge on the people who damaged you is to work hard in therapy and heal."  I said that.  Don't let the bastards keep you down!  Don't give them that power over you!  Jean Fairgrieve