Is it Iegal to take the Cat's Valium? It's going to be one of those days. (A Lost Soul - FOUND?)

  A Lost Soul - FOUND?

Part One

Written by: Stacey L. Bolin

Copyright 5/27/2016

           The thought of picking up everything and moving once again, without the assistance of the military, has to be the most stressful processes in my life thus far. Most of my stress lately has been due to a self-prescribed medication - FOOD, which now has my ass looking like I've stolen two seeded watermelons and stuffed them in my back pockets and my thighs have literally rubbed a hole in my jeans. So here I am, two weeks from D-Day (going to the closing to sell our home), one would think I'd be happy, excited, rejoicing that another crazy adventure awaits me. Right now - my biggest worry is that the land fish out west won't taste like the blue crabs do here in Annapolis, Maryland.  Clearly my priorities are like an end of the school year binder that is stuffed full of papers, and gets knocked to the floor scattering everything everywhere with no hopes of being put back in order for about six months - if ever. 

            Now, there are times when I'm feeling low and even the best McDonalds McMuffin and hash brown combo can't stop my brain from wanting to think about negative things in my head over and over again such as i.e., - "How does one get excited for something without having the information about where I'm going. I'm selling what I've known for 22 years to move to an area without a home, without a job, without placement, something to call our own. That the years of blood, sweat and tears, will be enjoyed by another family living here, and my hopes to see my grandchild walk through this door in the future will never be."

            Now I know I've keep you on hold...so let me go back to two weeks ago when I made numerous, pivotal, and shocking discoveries about myself...You see something happened on that 9 hour drive when I started thinking, and thinking meaning - my pathetic self-induced pity party. As I trudged onward driving 95 north to New Hampshire on May 9th, 2016, it was a bitter sweet ride. I was going to fly, but my lost soul was in dire needed of a feeling that my heart couldn't find. Immediately as my radio played songs of the 80's & 90's - that are now considered classic music - I was teleported into a journey of nostalgia. My eyes peered upon the flooding of memories in my mind of places my family and I have seen and had been too. Still vivid in my thoughts - the expressions on the faces of my sons seeing the buildings of New York City rise above the horizon as we crossed the George Washington Bridge, the fun that we had while basking on the beaches in the summer suns of the coastal waters of Maine, to the snowy icy roads lined with homes decorated with color lights as we traveled on our way to surprise my mother for Christmas. 

            So many memories and great times were had during all the long drives years before. Most of which were with my boys, from infants to grown men. Occasional we'd be accompanied with my husband, but only if he didn't have to work. I could always see the disappointment in the eyes of my boys when daddy stay behind, but I wouldn't let it get them down and would do all I could to keep smiles upon their faces while putting myself last. Funny how people have a way of putting their selves last to ensure the happiness of others. I hold a master’s degree in this - shhhhh don't tell anyone I admitted it.  I never understood this concept while raising my kids, why was I so unhappy? I always felt like I was on the back burner and used to blame friends and family for this feeling – as if people intentionally excluded me from their lives. Some did, but the lie I told myself was it was everyone. As I continued to drive, I tried to understand the hurt in my heart, what was it that I was searching for, what was really wrong and why did I feel a sense of remorse -  and then it hit me.  As I drove  slowly though the town of Hillsboro, NH where my military journey began, I decided to stop. There I said in amazement as if it were a dream.  To look at the home where my mother lived before I went into the Navy Seabees, began filling me with a strange but comforting new found realization that I had nobody to blame but myself - I allowed my beliefs of the past to take over my life. One by one the answers of why - revealed themselves.

Mom's Apts. Top floor and bottom floor many years ago.

             As I sat looking at my mothers old apartment building I could see back into my life and how I had become frightened by the horrors and triggers of a sexual assault in 1991 that made me feel dirty, unloved, unwanted, that even my husband had never been told about, were slowly chipping away the walls of a suppressed memory - thus causing endless fear and my want to run away, but not understanding why. 

            I remember my promise to God, that if he gave me life after my cancer - I would do all I could to see to other people's happiness no matter what I had to give up - including my own happiness.

            How I felt I was no longer beautiful, especially when the doctors had to remove ample amounts of scar tissue caused by radiation therapy, from both breasts, that significantly reduced me to from a triple D to a comfortable C - pleasing me that I still got to keep something - but felt a sense of guilt that I had somehow let my husband down.  

            The icing on the cake of crazy beliefs that I created was iced in June 2012 when I finally remember the assault - I punished myself repeatedly by believing that I was the reason a man had raped me, while at the same time was so confused by this thinking as I knew I had done nothing wrong, but convinced myself it was all my fault.

            Day by day I allowed myself to slip into what I call the "Hollow Bunny Syndrome" - You look solid on the outside, but its a huge disappointed when you take a bite and its dark and empty inside.  Crazy hua? Sad is more like it. Yes there had been times in years past that I had pondered suicide - there I said it. But the two faces of miracles that doctors said I couldn't have - my sons - are what kept me alive inside and out to this very day.

***

             On the horizon as I reached for my - I tell myself it's diet Mountain Dew,  An overwhelming epiphany was peaking as my travels were just about over.  I crested a hill on I-93 at 3:45pm about 300 feet from my exit to route 106 Bristol/Meredith. I immediately needed to pull over. I felt shaky as I starred out over the mountainous tree covered landscape when light dawned on me -  I was home. Consumed with emotion from what felt like I had just finished reading the book of a life time - I dropped my head in my hands and I wept for so many defining moments that in years passed I fought away the tears to create the illusion that my structure was strong and unbreakable. An Oscar winning moment - to bad it was real and not just a movie.

              I wept for the young little girl that I was and the people who have since passed away that were important in my life. For the woman I couldn't be because I was so consumed with hate for letting myself believe I was at fault for being assaulted. For the woman who loves and is still in love with a man that promised to never hurt her, but at times - does and doesn't understand words destroy and broken hearts can only be mended so many times.  For the woman I want to be and most importantly - for the lost soul within me that I needed to find. Yet I'm tormented with a life changing question that demands an answer - Will I find my lost soul in such a short amount of time in New Hampshire? I could only hope and pray as I had to be back in Maryland on Friday of that same week for a doctor’s appointment.

I've seen many miracles - And one was preparing to stand before me - but would I be ready? To be continued...

Sleepytown Motor Cottages - Wells Beach, ME

Meredith, NH

"The Mind is a Powerful Thing"

We'll here it is, September 19, 2012. Nine months since I began my quest to get organized and what a quest it has been. Now for most people, when a person says that they need to get organized it generally means getting your home, office, or maybe even your storage locker you purchased to house the extra stuff that your home doesn't have room for. But what if getting organized meant, organizing your material things and your mental things? For years I saw the physical clutter in front of me and never understood the mental clutter that was the cause. I've walked around in my life in this half-baked type thought process without any answers as to why. Could it be that I was just lazy? A terrible homemaker? Depressed? Overwhelmed? Maybe all of the above - I just couldn't tell you. But what I do know is that when your mind is unorganized, the life around you will be the same. Now I'll be honest, there were times that I should have posted my before and after clutter projects, that I have been working on between the gaps in my blogging, but recently I've been trying to cope with a past situation that has found its way to the forefront of my memories that have me feeling deeply ashamed and embarrassed and what's worse this event dictated who I was all these years. I share this with you today, as it is time to move forward and that someone may be going through the same thing as myself. I'm not looking for pitty and you can't change a thing, that the past is what it is and all I can do now is try to accept and move on. Easier said than done. I believe it is important that when someone sets out to do something and they are not consistent, sometimes there is an underlining reason of explanation that helps those around you to understand and offer support.

I chose to go back to a therapist to help delve into the mysteries of my mind. Why do I do what I do and say what I say. Why did I feel like I had two people living in this body of mine? In late July I discovered why. When a person has experienced a traumatic event in their life, most times they deal with the event and move on slowly in the life. Others, for whatever the reason, block the event with the hopes that the memories will never return. It take a lot of work when a person blocks a pain, a hurt, a sorrow that in their mind they just don't want to handle and that is where my problems began and left me, for years on a path of extreme behaviors created by the mind to keep a memory from returning. Now when my therapist told me that it was possible for people to go on for years this way, I looked at her as if she was a fool, but in things that I wrote and said she began to see a pattern that resembled sexual abuse/assault. I could not recall anything major when she spoke of this, but I do remember feeling panicked, the room began to spin and my breath quickened.

I couldn’t get out of her office fast enough and was happy to know that I was only being seen every two weeks. Personally I always believed that it was my cancer diagnosis that resulted in a duel personality - one happy and one sad. When I felt sad or scared, then the extreme happy personality would shove the other personality out of the way and take over. Yet when my therapist asked me how long I felt I had this feeling of being two people, I responded “Since I first got to Adak.” Well now that ruled out my cancer being the cause of my extreme behavior, but what in heaven’s name happened in Adak other than the typical everyday military life and drama, that would make me feel that I need to think the way that I have over the past 21 years – It just didn’t add up in my mind, however could explain the excessive need to return to the island. I have always felt there was something I needed to go get, or find, but couldn’t explain it.

I’d have dreams about Adak that were extremely vivid, I could smell, hear, taste, touch, I was there but would wake up very upset when my dreams would take me into a club that I used to work at called the Husky Club, which I spoke about in my book “Through the Barracks Window”,but did not recall this traumatic event that I am about to share with you, until just this summer thanks to close Seabee friend who finally provided me with the answers that I had missed placed in my mind to protect myself from the hurt. When I asked him why he waited so long to tell me what he knew his response was – I didn’t want to be the bad guy and hurt my friend with what I knew and that it seemed that I had just moved passed it and he didn’t want to bring it up.” It was after talking to him, all the memories that I had banished away behind a locked door in my mind, where once again in front of me twenty-one years later. He never knew that I had just blocked it, I had never faced it and I should have from the start. I am finding with each day I chose to talk about what happened to me, the clutter in my mind and in my home is rapidly diminishing. So what happened to me you asked? A man took something from me without asking as he knew the answer would be NO! AND NO MEANS NO!

I was a DJ after my military work/duties, at the Husky Club. I was 23 years old, single, and doing what I loved after my Seabee work - I got to play music for others to enjoy. My first few nights working there I was in a training type of status – having to learn how to fade one song into another, how to turn the equipment on and off, and getting over my fear of talking on the microphone. I was a fantastic DJ – when nobody was in the building. We are all great at something when nobody is around. Now we all have those mom moments, you know the ones when you’re about to do something and you hear your mother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to think before you do it. Well I had hit one of those moments head on. I was still very timid about working the equipment and decided that I would stay after the club closed to go over the closing process one more time before going solo. I trusted the guy who was training me – and that was my downfall. He had brought me a beer, which had already been opened, that he had got while the bar tender was closing. He was so gitty when he said, “Here, this is one of the perks of being a DJ at the Husky when you are the one closing up the place – we get free beer!” I smiled and happily accepted it.

The music that was playing began to sound like and can best be described as white noise. That is when my happy moment and my love for music, while the song Diamonds and Pearls, by Prince, (Which is why - Liz, I hated it when you'd request this song endlessly over the next four years I was there, and you knew I wouldn't play it. Now It has me wondering if you knew what happened? What I am told now is that my reaction to your request then could be considered a trigger and that I didn't understand why the song bothered me because my mind had chosen to block the memory of how it related.) It continued to play and my body was slowly becoming limp. The music sounded like it was beginning to fade on and off. I remember feeling tired and dazed and once in a great while I could see colored lights flash before my eyes as he spoke, “Nobody has to know.” The lights and white noise were also dreams I would have but could never find the relevance of them to my life. I didn’t like the feeling of him touching me as he took a hold of me to lead me across the dance floor to another room, but I didn’t have any strength to pull away. I remember seeing the ladies room, but he took me into the back office with a mattress on the floor. I hated the way he felt on top of me, but I couldn’t scream for help! I hated the scent of his cologne, but couldn’t get fresh air! I hated the sound of his voice telling me how beautiful and sexy I was! I HATED IT ALL! I HATED HIM! I was filling with rage while feeling completely helpless. I wanted to strike him, hurt him, scream at him, pull his hair, but my body just lay there – numb. I could feel the warmth of my tears pool into the corner of my eyes and then run down the side of face into my ears and then down my neck. I tried to just fixate on the warmth of my tears and he took want he wanted from me physically and sexually. He was a thief in the night never to be trusted again.

It was then I felt myself morf into a split person, just like being cut completely in half from head to toe. I told myself to think of something else it will all be over soon and you will forget about it. I remember going deep within myself looking for things that made me happy as he continued to have his way with me. I don’t remember when the thief finished with me, but what I do remember is constantly looking for the pink shirt that I wore that night that was never to be found again. I remember hearing loud banging on the door and soon a man’s voice saying to me, “I’m sorry I left you alone with him, I’m so sorry, will you ever forgive me.” I never looked up to see his face, I knew the voice and that he worked there, but I didn't know him personally. He insisted that I call the police, but I just wanted to go back to my barracks room never to come out again. My personality was always positive when I finally went back to work, I refused to deal with what had happened, however my dislike to be touched by people became extreme. I tried dating guys while on the island, but I couldn't find the ability to connect and the idea of sex sickened me.

When the man I am now married to today, arrived on the island in 1992, I had pretty much given up on men all together. Until the night that I met him. I honestly feel that was the night that my mind had blocked what had happened to me months earlier. My husband's touch is the only touch I wanted and would accept. He had a special quality unlike the others I had dated - his hugs made me feel 100% safe and still does to this very day. I never reported what had happened to me and by the time I had met my husband, I had completely blocked what had happened, but trust me, people on the base must have known which may, or may not, explain why they were so upset that I got married only knowing a guy three months. Maybe they believed I married him because I was running away from the pain of what happened. I’ll set that record straight – How can someone run from something they don’t remember?? I married my husband, because I love him and so very much in love with him and I don’t want anyone else. It hurts me to think that still after all these years, a person who took something from me, still was taking from me mentally after all of these years and my friends and family had to suffer while I struggled with what the doctors believe were/are symptoms of P.T.S.D. for years and didn’t know or remember why.

To my friend who found the courage to share what they knew about that tragic part of my life on the Rock and then also let me know that I was not the only one who had been taken advantage of at the club – I thank you. I am sure it was hard to finally reveal what you knew, but please understand I could never be mad at you and I am so thankful that it was you who told me. It will take me a long time to actually say the four letter "R" word that describes what happened to me, but I have given the information/documentation to the right people to help me move passed the memories of the event and finally be the "one personality" me I used to be. You my friend have given me a new light on life and myself and my family thank you.

I tell myself that with each improvement, accompanied by music that inspires me to stay on a positive road another spark of happiness shines. These are a couple of my many favorites to get me motivated and helped me attacked the Spare bedroom madness.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMkHO0NzFy0&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5kwUG1vAmk&feature=related

I know the process takes time and with the support that I have from my friends and family, I will overcome this. I have not given up my goal to be organized by the 2013 and I promise you...I WILL DO IT! I may not blog every day, but I do my best to write at least twice a week to keep you updated on this progress. I know - you will not be disappointed.

Below are before and after pictures of the dreaded spare bed room/office clutter hell that I battled for months, but is now in an excellent example of what happens when you let your mind go somewhere positive and your heart follows.

Looking at this I see the clutter
that was in my mind.
Kinda gives a person whole new perspective
when someones asks you -
"What the hell are you thinking?"



There is peace in the Valley -
Let's hope it lasts.



“Combat and rape, the public and private forms of organized social violence, are primarily experiences of adolescent and early adult life. The United States Army enlists young men at seventeen; the average age of the Vietnam combat soldier was nineteen. In many other countries boys are conscripted for military service while barely in their teens. Similarly, the period of highest risk for rape is in late adolescence. Half of all victims are aged twenty or younger at the time they are raped; three-quarters are between the ages of thirteen and twenty-six. The period of greatest psychological vulnerability is also in reality the period of greatest traumatic exposure, for both young men and young women. Rape and combat might thus be considered complementary social rites of initiation into the coercive violence at the foundation of adult society. They are the paradigmatic forms of trauma for women and men.”
― Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The aftermath of violence--from domestic abuse to political terror