Progress with Medication

It's been about three months since I started taking medication, and three months to the day since I've shared any writing. Realizing how apprehensive I've been about writing and sharing doesn't sit well with me, so here we are :)

In regard to medication, I'm pleased to say that it's actually working and has made a world of difference. After feeling out of control for so long, the medication has brought immense relief and has lessened my reactivity. I still become dysregulated when triggered, but the constant hypervigilance, anxiety, and paranoia has lessened to the point that I can work through the triggers rather than becoming frozen by them. Being less reactive allows me to be more present because I'm living less in my head and more in the real world. I can complete tasks without becoming too distracted, irritated, or quick to anger. I can manage my time more efficiently. I can socialize easier without drifting away. I can think about things other than trauma, while still doing in depth trauma processing in therapy. I can sing in the car because I feel upbeat enough to do so. In recent conversations with friends and family, I've started sharing minor details of my history with trauma and how I'm navigating my way through that, which is still rather new to me outside of support group. Having these conversations more regularly does mean becoming triggered more often, which is where I've noticed an internal shift in where my mind is focused. Over the past few months, I've come to know that the unhealthy codependent relationship I had with my dad taught me to mirror unhealthy behaviors, which preceded the sexual abuse brought on by another. I was pretty upset and angry by the discovery of this, knowing that as an adult I've defended my dad and mostly overlooked how he treated me as a child. For so long, I somehow remained blind to noticing the coping mechanisms I learned to deal with my dad. I've always thought that my lifelong struggles originated solely from experiences of molestation and rape. I never realized that my history with trauma started before that, with my dad. Being traumatized by one parent likely means that true feelings and experiences will never be shared with another, even if one warm and loving parent is present. I've always been confused knowing that I had a warm, loving, and supportive mom with whom I did not share that I was being raped in our home. First I thought I was being good keeping a secret, as I was told to do after the first time I was raped. Then I thought I must have been protecting the person because I loved and trusted them, and didn't want them to get in trouble. Then I thought that I must have been protecting my mom because she was already dealing with a lot, and I didn't want to add on more to deal with. But now, I realize that it wasn't a conscious choice to not tell my mom that I was being raped; dissociation isn't a choice. It's an internal protection mechanism that originates in childhood during traumatic experiences or ongoing abuse, most often when we can't physically escape. Dissociation splits the personality into different parts, separating oneself from the reality they need to escape from. For me, I think dissociation began around age 5 when the sexual abuse began, which allowed me to go on with my life as if I was fine. Consciously or not, I was always protecting myself. With these recent realizations, I'm learning how to not be so upset with myself for not telling. To a small child, when someone you love is abusing you emotionally, mentally, physically, or sexually, it can become rather confusing to know what to do and who to trust. Experiences and emotions become confusing and difficult to articulate because mixed messages of love and abuse are being sent simultaneously. As my mind has been preoccupied with these recent discoveries for months now, it's as if the sexual abuse didn't seem as big because it was no longer the only thing. The spotlight was shining directly at my dad and the environment he created in our home. I questioned if I even belonged in my support group anymore. I questioned if the trauma involving my dad somehow excluded me from the group, as it came in forms other than sexual abuse. When I shared this questioning with the women in my support group, I was reassured that I belong in the group, as we discuss all aspects of trauma and abuse. Sexual abuse is unfortunately an added layer of trauma that we've all experienced due to the environments we were already in. In sessions thereafter, I shared with them that my mind had shifted back to the sexual abuse and how deeply it interferes with my daily life and relationships. Like clockwork, flashbacks of being molested and raped had been disturbing me again on a daily basis. I found myself shuddering a lot in an attempt to literally shake it off. It's always comforting to talk to the women in my support group about these cycles of triggers and struggles because they understand. They've been there.

Triggers lead the mind and body to different places. When my mind replays reels of being raped, I become sad and angry, and often shut down. It's in those moments when I most don't want to keep the secrets anymore. I don't want to feel isolated or alone in them. I want to free myself from feeling like I need to stay silent to protect anyone, including myself, which leads to feeling trapped by others assumed judgement or disbelief. I find myself having arguments in my head with others, discussing my experiences and planning how to defend myself if and when they downplay or disregard the trauma and abuse, or say that it needs to be left in the past. Where I used to shut down in these made up scenarios, I now find myself being confident in acknowledging how insensitive others are to the fact that I was being raped in my home. I find myself confronting narrow minded views, and how ignorant it is to think that anyone can truly just forget about trauma and move on without it affecting their wellbeing. I find myself sharing statistics about the number of people who are sexually abused in their homes as children, and that any number of our family members could have similar unfortunate experiences with molestation or rape. About 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 13 boys in the US experience child sexual abuse. As I work through these triggers internally, I find that I'm becoming more confident and less frozen. I feel less reactive to triggers and more equipped to deal with them, which in turn prevents spiraling out of control - the tormenting cycle that was so prevalent in my life before taking medication.

Historically, I rarely tell my wife or anyone else when I'm triggered and struggling to remain present. Recently, since starting medication, I feel somewhat more open about sharing in the moment. I can keep one foot grounded in the present as my mind attempts to dissociate from the rush of distress. This makes sharing what's happening with me internally more accessible, and sharing (rather than concealing) provides the acknowledgement and support that's needed in the moment. It's cool to notice. I find myself sharing pieces of information with my wife more regularly, starting with information from The Body Keeps the Score, and relating that to my personal experience and whatever I've worked through that day. While still feeling defeated and discouraged by triggers and certain situations, I have a new sense of pride and accomplishment when I'm able to work through them more productively. The shift that's come with the aide of medication has made me feel more confident in moving forward with healing work, like EMDR therapy. Having flashbacks return so vividly after years of therapy wasn't seen as a warning sign, but an invitation to begin processing the memories and experiences through EMDR. Now that I feel less reactive and more grounded in the present, while simultaneously being connected with parts of myself that experienced abuse, these therapies are actually accessible and manageable. I'm more able to notice where transparency and support are needed internally, so I can face the challenges that arise externally and in relationship with others.

These are the things that come from leaning into discomfort and doing the work. Don't get me wrong, it's challenging - but it's also quite beautiful.