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

I Hate Getting Flashbacks from Things I don't want to Remember.

I knew after entering the building, that on this winter windy night – I was never going to be the same. My anxiety had been heightened all week long as I stewed on the invite to spend time with friends at a bar just on the outskirts of Hillsmere, Maryland to enjoy a DJ’d karaoke night and a few games of pool. We arrived early to get the best seats in the house, right next to the dance floor. As I sat enjoying conversation with my husband, I’m horrified as I see myself walk through the door. She is a blonde with a big smile and is laughing with two other friends.  My darkened inner world tells me it’s Donna and Crystal – but the reality is that I’m in Annapolis, Maryland, but I see 25 years ago in Adak, Alaska at that very same moment. My instinct tells me to run, my heart smiles to see my husband making full eye contact with me when my gaze is not distracted by false images of a flashback that is trying to convince me that I have returned to the past.

 A smell that doesn’t belong there entombs me – mom’s house, the peach air fresheners, the smell of fresh cut grass, the sounds of the ocean as seagulls fly over - these things help me wear a faux smile - but doesn’t release the invisible grip of my rapidly growing paralyzing fear.  I don’t want to be there, I want to go home, but say nothing as I don’t want my friends to know that I’m scared, I’m vulnerable, and I want this pain to finally go away. A master of hiding what hurts me, is what I believe I am – I am so very wrong!!!!

 I briefly turn to alcohol, to try to cut the fear - a temporary fix as the events of the night begin to unfold. I’m asked to turn around and look at the lady in the booth behind us – The blonde, people are laughing, they are taking pictures – I see my attacker and a video camera. She is dazed, dizzy, confused – she has been drugged and I must save her before he gets her. But I’m told it’s not my business and to not pay any attention to it. It’s up to the bartenders to take care of her. Elizabeth is who I see when I look over to the worker behind the bar to find this woman help. But nobody listens and tells me to turn away. I’m confused as the smell of my mother’s home during the same year I was assaulted - once again entombs me. I’m agitated, angry, scared, and mad, that my mind is telling me that nobody is doing anything to help this woman as men keep coming over to touch her, offering false assistance. She falls to the floor unable to stand unassisted. Nobody helps her – My friends immediately take charge to get the woman out of the building and away from males who are taking interest.

I’m told that my friend will be back as she takes the blonde outside, I turn to be face to face with a false image of my assailant as my arm is touched. I’m angry, I’m mad and something kicks in after all these years I'm no longer afraid, I’m bold, assertive, and I'm confident that my suit of armor is one of steel not tin foil  – “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” I command without fear. When I return to my table, I am angry  as I see a drunk woman sitting next to my husband, I don’t shy away this time – I speak up for myself, this woman will not take over my night with my husband and my friends. I find courage; I find a voice that I can hear as I speak. “Get up this isn’t your seat and that’s not your husband!” She tries to meet me with resistance and attitude – she's unaware I am fueled by excessive flashbacks and are stronger and stronger as I am forced to see the past that I had blocked for so long. 25 years of being angry that a waitress - that resembles this unknown woman at our table - that helped my attacker by drugging my drink.  

I don't want this negative element near my family anymore. I'm following my instinct that is filtered with past and present gut instinct - she's fake, she's unwanted, she's trouble - I finally become a voice of confrontation - “Get the fuck up and move on.” My friends have never seen that in me – my husband has never seen that - and I've never done that publicly - clearly something is coming to a head, but I refocus as I’m asked to assist again two other women, who are the blonde's friends, and an unknown male that was also feeling the effects of something other than excessive alcohol. My friends and I take over the chaos to get these women out of the building and home safely. It is only after the women leave that my fears had been confirmed - In the purse of one of the women - were the drugs that took a negative form of control on what was a night of fun, dancing and singing with friends.

The one of the bartenders are apologetic, but I want no part of what feels like poor acting as if they care. I’m insulted when I’m brought a shot from the female bartender trying to express that she should have known better. I’m skeptical that something is in the drink and my attacker awaits me. She doesn’t see the flashback that is entertaining my thoughts and visions.  I only reply – when she finally acknowledges that it’s her fault when she saw these patrons in distress earlier and did nothing. It is then I am able to speak and say – “Yes, you are right.” She realized she should have done something about it. My friends and I saved these three women while another group of people helped the man who came with them, from the other side of the room, get home safely as well.

I feel I had finally been giving a chance to right the wrongs that haunted me - I couldn’t save my roommate in 1991 and that I didn’t know how to help the girls that reported to me what had happened to them, as I was dealing with my own shock of being sexually assaulted and my own command did nothing when I reported it to them. As the negative chaotic atmosphere of the evening dissolves -  I’m alone at the table, when it is at this moment, my icy heart of hate, is deteriorating- I don't want to let go of who I had become on the inside, bitter while at the same time - so loving but iced over. I have a small fire of feeling a glimpse of self-worth that is growing - I'm panicked by this new feeling as my emotions are overwhelmingly drenched by the beautiful sense of inner goodwill.

I comprehend at that moment I’m not terrified by the sense of touch from someone who is not my husband or family, and I finally allowing a supportive hug from a friend who offered comfort as I finally found the courage to share the darkness in my mind, with those around me. I’m over flowing with sobbing emotion – I was meeting for the first time -  the realization and full understanding that what happened to me in October of 1991 – WAS NOT MY FAULT!. I feel that this was the final act of destroying my inner hate, and was placed at a cross road - I'm giving one of only two choices - I could be the victor and claim my new shoes of life, or retreat to the darkened corner of my thoughts and place it there again, for another day to try to emerge as my heart and soul try to finally heal the years of pain, fear, and anguish.

I like the new shoes. They are a bit snug, but will mold to meet my needs as I move forward in a positive light. I will NEVER forget that I can’t change the past and can't go back, but I can learn from it and teach to others what it has now taught me. It is OK to be afraid of things – but never let it control your life, because all those days you waste hiding and worrying – are days of your life you can never get back and only added to the hate and resentment. I can't say that I'll ever be 100%, trauma really changes a person and their perspective on their lives and the people around them. I'd be lying if I said that I will never have to check a room before entering and I'll won't have to look over my shoulder all the time. There is just something things that change in a person and as for trusting, this is the clause embedded  among the walls of my mind.

"You're modern woman with strong morals and several surprising old fashion values. You will have to be very clear about who you are while also understanding that often times you will scare potential friendships away.  Your ability to trust is a process that is earned over time; nobody is entitled to it, no matter how privileged one may believe they are. If one gains your trust, always know the clause, guard it with your life, because once another loses your trust - it’s gone and it could take days, months, years, or maybe it will never be given back - Only you can make that choice of when or if ever."

"Is It Breast Cancer?" Part One

 

She stood in the driveway that cool, dusky early Friday morning, teetering on a fine line between, going over the edge, and snapped. Fearing the worst and hoping for the best, she asked her husband - "What do I do?" He looked at her with his best face to keep her spirits positive, but his eyes revealed a soul that was remembering her battle with lymphoma that she had faced in 1994 - and survived. He was scared what the tests would reveal and all he wanted was to jump in his truck, go to work, hope that all of this was nothing more than a muscle injury and that tomorrow - life would go back to normal. Breast cancer were the two words that had the ability to shake this man to tears as his birth mother had succumbed to this dreadful disease before he had ever had the opportunity to meet the woman who had given him life.

As he got into his truck, she kissed him, a little longer than normal, allowing herself to feel the softness of his lips. She stood in the driveway, a little longer than normal, as she watch him heading off to work. She closed her eyes and took in the smell of the morning air, a little longer than normal, enjoying a moment of quiet before the city would awake. She was doing everything and anything to capture the moments before the unknown would be revealed.

***

Two days earlier she began experiencing significant pain in her left breast and after doing a self-examination, while standing in the shower, she never expected to find the large rock like mass beneath the skin. "How is this possible? I felt fine yesterday?" She said softly through her tears. Images of her family and special moments presented themselves in her memories as her slideshow of life and how blessed she has been. "Please God; please don't take me from my family. I can't leave them, not now...not ever." The sounds of the hot water beating off her skin, masked the sounds of her deepening sorrow. She felt completely broken. There were no doctors she could call until the next day, which meant she was going to have to do her best to remain calm and try to get through the evening hours until the arrival of a new day.

That night, as she lay on the bed trembling, her husband lay down beside her and held her tightly in his arms. With the exception of the exchange of the words - I love you - which they have said to each other every night before falling asleep - no other words were spoken. She did her best to contain her tears, trying to be strong for him, but the growing lump in her throat made hiding her fears extremely difficult. As she lay there watching him fall asleep, eventually her fears turned to exhaustion, and she found the ability to close her eyes, letting the warmth of his skin next to hers, help her relax and fall asleep as well.

The next morning began like any day before her discovery. Breakfasts were made, lunch money handed out, and everyone was on their way to school and work, leaving her home alone to watch the hands on the clock over the mantel, as they slowly reached nine o'clock. She called her doctor’s office to inform them of her discovery and what should she do, only to be told they would have to call her back. She had always had the ability to stay strong for those hurting around her, but when left alone, this body of strength was weak as a broken soul could be.

With her head in her hands, she sat at her dining room table in the warmth of the golden rays of the sun that shown brightly through the picture window and the cordless phone placed within her reach. Ten minutes after her call, the phone rang – it was one of the nurses from the internal medicine clinic. There was a growing urgency and concern in her voice as she explained the situation and what needed to be done before she could come into the clinic on Friday. Panic raced rapidly through her mind, body and soul while the nurse went into detail as she did her best to calmly explain the situation at hand - that was beginning to feel like a total nightmare.  

 

To be continued…

"The Gulf War Within"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYhsj1EZHNs  Today's song: Lost Souls by Bruce Hornsby and the Range.

M

onday morning on this second day in July started as it has every day for the past year, with the exception of one major detail, I chose to go back to bed, which is something that I know I shouldn’t do.  A tightness and slight ache just over my left ear, has me thinking that four tablets of Motrin and more sleep will heal this soon to be migraine.  I see my husband to his truck and then wave good-bye after he kisses me gently and drives off to work. I miss him already and the day hasn’t even officially started. I feel the same closeness as we had when we first met as we slowly learn that we both suffer from things within our military past, which we cannot change, but must learn to cope with.

I am relaxed while on his side of our bed, with his fan he has left on, that sits on a chair next to his side, blowing gently and his sent remains around me on his pillow. I fall asleep easily to whatever channel I have on the television, and the words he spoke to me over the weekend – he is still in love with me, playing over and over in my mind. A part of me has finally found inner peace.

As I dream, I harshly wake to the sounds of yelling and loud music – it is the movie Jarhead. I have never seen this, and had only read small segments out of the book from which the true story movie is told. When I first opened the book, I could not connect as I could not understand this soldiers pain - not until now. I know the feelings portrayed in the movie and now I can suddenly relate, but why? I heard about the war from members of my husband’s military unit and it is duplicated exactly from the words that I chose to read in the book, but now something is wrong in my mind and in my heart. A fear of true understanding overwhelms me, but I keep watching as each event in the movie unfolds, and it is reminding me of very brief statements by my husband that stems from his life from a blocked timeline that is slowly revealing itself about his experiences in the Desert Shield/Desert Storm war. I guess I can say that I was clueless as to the magnitude of what our men went through over there. I see people talk about it, who were never there, with the attitude of, if I don't learn about it - it never happened. BUT IT DID! Because of it, our soldiers of war will forever deal with an altered life caused by the fear of what they have gone through.  

Right now I feel I have gone to college class and have learned that I finally passed after failing it over and over again.  The words that my husband talks about, darkness during the day as oil rains upon his unit, the countless charred remains of what was once a human life and the sounds of artillery shells exploding in the distance. He too has a book within himself that refuses to offer the chapters to help those around him, understand. He has blocked events in his mind that find their way back into his daily thoughts, that he'd rather have stayed locked away. He stands on the edge of the sand at any beach, and sees the desert and would rather not touch it. I saw a man that didn’t want to go away for the weekend. He smells the hot oil in a newly paved road, and he sees the desert and wants to get far away from it.  I saw a man that is frustrated that traffic is backed up and is growing impatient. While standing in a large crow with unexpected noise and chaos, he sees the desert and wants to go home and isolate himself away from all of it. I saw a man that was looking for an excuse not to go shopping He goes to work and operates equipment and drives truck – he sees the desert and is exhausted by the constant memories.  I saw a husband/father who was depressed and needed help, but didn't understand why. 

I found myself crying for my husband as I am fixed on the story that is playing out in front of me on TV so early in the morning. It is this moment that the light comes on and I realize there is so much more to my love of a lifetime, physically he is home, but the desert has claimed him as its prisoner of war and refuses to let him free. I sit here now only an hour after watching this movie, and our life together slowly becomes an instant slide show of memories that offer answers to many moments of frustration and concern, without any explanation then, to help me understand.  After twenty years of marriage and a tightness in my throat as I desperately fight to hide my sorrow from my children – I finally understand the words that he would say to me over and over when I endlessly keep ask him what was wrong, causing his anger towards me to grow.  He just couldn't say it enough "his problems were not about me."  for me I could only keep wondering in my clueless mind, "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?" All this time, I believed I was the sources of his negative feelings, only to learn three months ago – The desert is his pain.

My words of wisdom are to the friends and family members of our Military war veterans. We cannot even begin to understand the pain that our service members have endured, to say that we do, it can be disrespectful and trigger a hostile attitude if you have not been in their shoes. Many have come home with various levels of P.T.S.D. and will only seek help when they are ready, and that too is something hard for us to comprehend. Below I have added a link to anyone who feels that they may be suffering as a spouse, family member, or a significant other since a veteran has returned home from war.

http://www.familyofavet.com/coping_skills_PTSD_spouse.html

As angry as I am to see what our soldiers are going through, especially years after there time in service, I also feel a sense of  honor to know that I had the privilege to be a part of the Seabees, even though I never served on the front lines, you are all my family. Even more important, because of my choice to sign the line for Uncle Sam, I found the man that I love more than life itself and the children that we have created together. I am grateful that even though you are still reminded of your time at war, you are the most loving, caring and responsible person I know. I thank god everyday, that he realized he had enough angels and brought you home so that we could find one another.

Thank you for listening to my story today. I know that this is more of a somber note, but it is all part of my life lessons. So until tomorrow - Have a wonderful day and I'll blog you later.