chronic pain, Lifestyle, Mental health, recovery

Ugly Truth 63: Medical Trauma & 15 Tips to Help You Implement Post Traumatic Growth

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
― Rumi

Dear Readers,

Thank you for your patience during this difficult time.

I have had great difficulty writing for others, much less myself. Those of you who know me know that I have been sustaining a medical journey, but I have yet to release the details. It has been greatly overwhelming and difficult to articulate. My studies have stalled, and I am walking on empty. Optimism can be so challenging when faced with a physical illness that brings with it significant limitations, but so few ever talk about it. It is important that I document these happenings for the record.

The Deskraven Blog was inspired by telling the unflinching truth, so if you have something to say please email me at

Today I want to touch on medical trauma, the way it impacts mental health, and what we can do about it. As previously stated in Ugly Truth 62: Proper Diagnosis is a Long Hard Road:

“Medical trauma can meet acute clinical criteria for PTSD. If you’ve read this blog for any period of time, you know this has been a hurdle of mine. The truth is trauma and grief are not linear. We cannot always anticipate recovery or relapse, which is why strategic coping skills are so important to develop if you have any intention of coping well. No amount of meditation or eastern scrap of religion could have prepared me for this, but it does help.”

In March of this year my pain management physician referred me to an OB/GYN to assess for endometriosis. Three weeks later I met with a kind and caring family and primary care nurse practitioner named Victoria Cameron, APRN, FNPC-C. During this appointment I had to strip down and sit in a cold sterile room for what felt like forever. I met with a Medical Assistant who was also less than warm. She checked my vitals and assessed my request for birth control in a feeble attempt to regulate my cycle. When I met Ms. Cameron, I brought her up to speed on my medical history and she performed a women’s wellness exam. After our discussion, she referred me to a nearby hospital for an abdominal CT (with and without contrast) to look for signs of scar tissue and any other culprit related to the incessant pelvic pain I experience. Upon my release, I called the nearby hospital to schedule my next appointment for the following Monday. I was informed it would be a four-hour appointment and to be sure I was in a state of fasting upon my arrival.

On April 19th I went to HCA Houston Healthcare Northwest at 9am. After routine Covid screenings and administrative nonsense, I was admitted to the Imaging Department. Thankfully though, this one had a television where I consumed the Derek Chauvin trial. The live footage had me just about near tears before my name was called, as well as that of another woman. The three of us took to the hospital halls where the technician explained to us the procedure we were undergoing. We entered a third room deep in the heart of the hospital. He explained I had to drink 32 ounces of Gatorade spiked with iodine. He elaborated this would light up my organ systems, but I had to wait two hours for the magic to happen. Afterwards, they would set an IV so they could flush my system with saline and more iodine. There I sat pondering the side effects with another young man sitting across from me, and an older gentleman in the corner. I smiled to myself while observing the mediocre artwork medical providers seem to hang unanimously in an attempt to soothe your nerves. With bulging bladders, we all had a good laugh about whether or not we were permitted to use the restroom.

My name was called again and I was escorted to the CT machine where I met a fine young man from Louisiana who asked me to lay down on the imaging bed. He shared details with me about his life while he attempted to set my IV, but failed twice. He moved to the other side and made a third attempt in my right arm. At the time the birth control I had discontinued made me anemic. I heard a woman’s voice enter the room and say, “Her body is too cold.” She requested heated blankets and wrapped my limbs with a soft tone in her voice. Finally, she returned to my left side and was able to set the IV properly.

I was informed via loud speaker that I would be moved in and out of the machine twice, once with the saline flush and once with the iodine. I was asked to take a deep breath in and hold it. He explained the iodine would cause a warm sensation in my sacred center that mimics the feeling of peeing on yourself. He assured me I had not.

Afterwards he released me into the hallways where I promptly proceeded to experience a profound state of confusion. I ended up walking directly into the employee section of the emergency department. When I walked in, they were all surprised to see me – a young woman in civilian clothes who had no business being there. I apologized and explained I was lost. They advised that typically I wouldn’t be allowed to exit the hospital this way, but they would make an exception.

Finally, I made my way outside and realized I was on the opposite side of the building, as far as humanly possible from my vehicle. I took a deep sigh and began walking, overwhelm and weakness in full force. I finally reached my car where I took five minutes to collect myself before driving, or so I thought. On my way home I experienced a rush of tears and anxiety, longing for nothing more than my loving Wife and my own bed. I experienced side effects from the iodine in the coming days, and soon resented the fact that I have always been medically sensitive.

One month later Ms. Cameron called me with my CT results. She explained I have kidney stones and ovarian cysts, an additional symptom of endometriosis. The imaging also showed degeneration of my spine in conjunction with the L5/S1 disc herniation and spinal stenosis (a narrowing of the spine). She recommended I see an endometriosis specialist for next steps and offered an alternate form of birth control. Fed up with synthetic hormones, I politely declined. I spoke with my Wife about the plan moving forward, and explained I needed a break from medical appointments for a while. She, in her unfailing love and support, agreed.

On May 20th I saw my pain management physician again where he recommended increasing my Cymbalta. I lasted three weeks before a full-blown panic attack, insomnia, loss of balance, shaky limbs, weight loss, skin reactions, and symptoms of bipolar mania surfaced. I started weening off very slowly as Cymbalta is notorious for a hardcore withdrawal syndrome. I am down to my last two pills, and I am keeping my fingers crossed that warm cranial sensations, agitation, severe nausea, and flashes in my field of vision do not return once I run out completely.

One June 17th I followed up with my pain management doctor with the news where he discontinued my Cymbalta and increased my Gabapentin since my body seems to tolerate it well. He explained the next step is a Lumbar/Hypogastric Plexus Nerve Block. He elaborated I would be put under anesthesia and I agreed, explaining that I have done everything I can to be medically compliant and this is no different.

During the procedure, an anesthetic is injected directly into the nerve root near the lower spine. The medication spiders into the pelvic region and blocks the sympathetic nerve system to help relieve pain associated with the colon, bladder, lower intestines, uterus, and ovaries. He believes this will be beneficial to me because those are the organ systems often impacted by endometriosis. He stated he has seen success stories that result in such significant improvement that some of his patients never return.

One of my biggest challenges has been nerve compression which makes it difficult for me sit, stand, drive or walk. These activities require all of my energy and even some I don’t have, resulting in extreme chronic pain and fatigue. At the height of it, I have experienced episodes of paralysis. I spend all of my down time in bed even when my self-care routine is on point. Even though my Wife’s love is unrelenting, I know she craves the active partner I once was.

The concept is that numbing my body from the waist down will restore my ability to operate from a functionality stand point until my exploratory surgery can be scheduled. If they locate scar tissue as a result of internal bleeding, a third surgery will be scheduled. My hope is that at the very least a nerve block will allow me to tolerate exercise again so I can rebuild those muscle groups. Understandably, my quality of life is suffering greatly, and the recovery time for each of these procedures is getting longer and more intense. I will go under on July 7th at 11am, one day after my son’s tenth birthday.

Each time I endure one of these invasive appointments it triggers my PTSD and takes me back to that deep dark place of being a caregiver at the age of 22. I witnessed someone I love experience everything from biopsies to transplants, even suicidal depression, in the face of a traumatic health scare that was only days away from fatal. This went on for two whole years.

Likewise, I often struggle with the notion that I am failing as a mother. The limitations associated with chronic pain and mental illness requires a delicate balancing act, one that obligates you to carve out time for self-care. This can lead to falsely rooted guilt, especially on days when I can’t get out of bed. The emotional side of me knows I am missing out on important milestones and quality time. The logical side of me knows I am instilling compassion in my son. I have chosen to raise him with raw and transparent communication, but still my paranoia roars and I ask myself, “At what cost?” Add to that the impact of the Covid generation and it’s all too easy to stir the worry pool. I am blessed that I have his father and my devoted Wife to pick up the slack. I shudder to think what I would do without them. However, if you do find yourself less fortunate, Delta Discovery Center offers 15 Trauma Therapy Techniques to Implement to Help You Heal From Trauma:

1. Get Closure

2. Recognize That There is Nothing Wrong With You

3. Link Positive and Negative Material

4. Reclaim Control

5. Get Counseling

6. Don’t Isolate

7. Take Care of Your Health

8. Try to Find Some Deeper Meaning in What Happened to You

9. Learn the True Meaning of Acceptance and Letting Go

10. Become Aware of Emotional Triggers and Learn to Cope with Them Creatively

11. Learn the True Meaning of Acceptance and Letting Go

12. Connect with Nature

13. Clean Up Your Diet

14. Limit Your Media Exposure

15. Know That Your Feelings Are Valid

I have implemented all of these into my life, but there will always be hard days. Above all, number eight has resonated with me the most: Try to Find Some Deeper Meaning in What Happened to You.

Since this journey began, I have moved through the victim mindset into a more spiritual realm. I am made to feel content by the fact that I have found sanctuary within myself and while there will be missteps, I can use my story to help others. Making time for meditation and spiritual development has offered me a great deal of healing in tandem with my medical team, cannabis, and yoga. I never would have imagined that my health would take a nose dive at the age of twenty-eight, but here we are, and I know I’m not the only one.

Throughout my life I have sustained every form of trauma you can imagine. I was born six weeks premature with a heart murmur. I suffered underdeveloped lungs and health issues through out a lot of my childhood. I have experienced child abuse, partner abuse, sexual abuse, abandonment, self-injury, suicide, addiction, high risk pregnancy, clinical mental illness of which two in-patient hospitalizations resulted, eating disorders and physical ailments. With that comes equal parts post traumatic stress and post traumatic growth. The most important decision you will ever make will be the path you choose — because the obstacle is the path.

My perspective has shifted from irritable disenchantment with human life to the humbling compassionate understanding that our bodies are only vehicles for an ethereal and eternal soul. This allows me to compartmentalize my suffering and listen to my body.

I have fallen madly in love with nature and solitude, which invites a certain healing I can’t quite articulate. There is something enlightening about how near death experiences usher us into a flow state of surrender. Suddenly eyes and heart wide open; Still, we might easily miss it if we don’t pay attention. This sense of awakening or awareness is reinforced by the understanding that suffering is universal, and deeply designed to help us learn. Indeed, science demonstrates that spiritual practice has the power to physically change the structure of our neurological systems and DNA. Therefore, I spill all the unconditional love I can muster into all of my interactions with others. Every painful experience is an opportunity to advocate your needs, to learn receivership with grace, to love yourself and others more. I encourage you to choose love over fear.

>>>Discussion: What has your trauma taught you?

**If you’re a mental health survivor or mental health provider and want to tell your story – please email me at!**

For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!

In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!

chronic pain, Mental health

Ugly Truth 61: Pain Management

“Surrender is an incredibly difficult topic in light of chronic illness, because loss is often continued and sustained.”
-Cindee Snider Re, Finding Purpose: Rediscovering Meaning in a Life with Chronic Illness

Dear Readers,

Deskraven was designed with community in mind. If you’re interested in writing for the Deskraven Blog, please email me at to obtain a copy of the interview questions. There’s no catch, and you may submit your writing anonymously if you wish.

Sometimes I surrender to the process. Other times I demand more of myself and those who love me. Chronic pain is a tricky thing, and the truth is I am starting to lose heart.

Earlier this month I had an MRI that revealed an L5/S1 disc herniation and spinal stenosis. Still, these did not explain my pain levels, so my chiropractor referred me for pain management. Initially, he had spinal steroid injections on his mind. However, with a more conservative approach my Wife and I went for a second opinion. Ultimately, we located our own pain management physician who is also a spinal specialist. After my first exam he asked to view my MRI images himself, started me on Gabapentin, and referred me for a complete Nerve Conduction Study/EMG to asses my nerve damage before moving forward with epidural spinal injections. Today was that day, and let me just say if you have never experienced one of these, count yourself blessed because it’s some kind of monster.

Upon arrival my neurodiagnostic tech greeted my Wife and I. Even though he was awesome, knowledgeable, and forthcoming about the level of discomfort I would experience, nothing could have prepared me for this.

He explained that there would be three phases to the procedure. First, he would adhere leads to my lower extremities and use electrical stimulation to measure my nerve response. He would begin on a low setting and increase accordingly along my lower back, legs, and feet. Next, he would adhere leads to my forehead and feet to measure my brain’s response time to S1 nerve stimulation, an area thought to be damaged in my case. Finally, he would insert small needles into my legs, feet, and back to measure my nerve response in a flexed position versus a relaxed state. He stated treatment routes can range anywhere from nerve surgeons to physical therapy based in the results. He informed me the procedure would last thirty to forty five minutes, and we began.

I took a deep breath and did my best to relax even though I was anxious and cold. I tolerated the first round fairly well being that I have experience with a TENS unit at home. It felt very similar along my legs and feet, however, as he increased intensity so too did my discomfort. It was interesting to detect abnormalities in my response to stimulation on my left and right side. The right side of my body seems to be notably problematic due to spinal stenosis (a narrowing of the spine) and the subsequent nerve damage. My Wife sat across the room observing my limbs jumping on the table as the tech wound up his tools and administered increasing shocks to various parts of my body. I took comfort knowing she was there, and I was able to relax into a state of meditation. The tech asked if I was okay, and we had a good laugh about good patients and bad patients. He confided in me that some people scream and cry, and it isn’t unusual for them to walk out altogether. It didn’t take long before my meditation broke and I was overcome by wincing pain. Suddenly, I could understand why.

Next, the tech applied electrode gel and medical adhesive to my forehead right where your third eye might be, as well as on the top of my head. This was relatively painless, a gentle respite from what was to come. He explained this was used to measure brain activity in relation to sensation in the S1 nerve specifically. And so I sat, for two important minutes in complete silence, careful not to move.

Next came the needles, and even though I kept my humor about me to aid in my composure, I knew the next part would require I call the warrior in me to the surface. The tech explained he would insert small needles into three locations on each leg, and four on either side of my spine for a total of ten. The insertion of each needle was tolerable, but then he added intense electrical stimulation and asked me to flex and hold various positions. During the time of the recording, a loud crackling sound could be heard emitting from the computer speakers. As if the excruciating pain some may equate with torture wasn’t enough, I felt as though I could be scooped up by space creatures at any second. I began to groan and hum a bit, noticing some parts of me were significantly weaker and more pain producing than the rest. Lastly, he asked me to turn onto my tummy where he would repeat the same procedure on my lower back. Surprisingly, this wasn’t as painful as the others, likely due to the fact that I was already defeated and there’s more tissue to absorb the shock and pinch.

Finally, my Wife tied up a few loose insurance ends and my shoes were returned to me. The tech informed me he would forward his findings to a neurologist and we would have the results at my follow up appointment with my pain management doctor in three weeks. I thanked him and wished him a safe drive home. He handed us his business card and wished us well before I stumbled out the door.

The first thing I did was crawl into the car and light a cigarette. I felt all of my medical trauma adding up. I knew the tears would come, but not yet. First we had errands to run and children to mother. I felt as though I left my body more than once and nothing really mattered outside the dissociative cloud I had moved into. I just wanted to collapse into my Wife who I am so grateful for and shut the world out. I just wanted to take a moment to validate my suffering. I just wanted to fall apart and not worry about anything else. Soon the demand became too great, my boundaries crumbled in my vulnerability, and I moved into a state of overwhelm. Even though my loving well intentioned Wife was going on about practical things, I couldn’t hold it anymore and my eyes welled up with tears. Naturally she was concerned, but I reassured her it had nothing to do with the groceries. I’ve worked hard to push my processing delay forward with the wisdom that it’s okay and perfectly healthy to cry. I have been a brilliant suppressor who constantly seeks to release that part of herself.

Finally, we returned home and the night ensued with challenging parenting, wine, reflection, and warm water.

I could sit here and tell you ten clever Deskraven ways to cope with chronic pain, but the truth is I haven’t uncovered anything yet that has truly provided meaningful relief. Like psychology, it seems to be nothing more than symptom management and breakthrough pain despite your best efforts. There are good days and there are hard days. Today was most definitely a hard day.

So, here I lay in a tepid puddle measuring my mental health against physical defeat, sharing all of this with you for the sake of the one person who needs to read it. Please do not despair. You are not alone. Tomorrow will be mostly bed ridden sleep, and hard prayer for the answers I know are coming. When they do, I promise to share them with you, too.

Discuss: How has chronic pain impacted your life? How do you cope?

**If you’re a mental health survivor or mental health provider and want to tell your story – please email me at!**

For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!

In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!

Mental health

Ugly Truth 49: My Strength Will Always Waver

“Silence. How long it lasted, I couldn’t tell. It might have been five seconds, it might have been a minute. Time wasn’t fixed. It wavered, stretched, shrank. Or was it me that wavered, stretched, and shrank in the silence? I was warped in the folds of time, like a reflection in a fun house mirror.”
― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

*WARNING: This post makes mention of suicide, self injury, drug use, and abuse. If you find this type of content triggering, please do not continue reading. If you or someone you love is at risk, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255*

Dear Readers,

As we the near the halfway point of my 100 Truths, I want to take a moment to thank those of you who have followed along this far. It has been a project in introspection, and an excellent conversation starter.

As many of you know, trauma-work has been at the forefront of my healing over the last few years. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder has been one of my more pervasive diagnoses, and so I find myself being continuously humbled by its rearing ugly head. The truth is sometimes I feel impenetrably strong. Other times I feel one more traumatic event away from losing my last marble. It doesn’t scare me as much as it used to because now I have the tools, but even a well equipped person can stumble backward.

While I spend a great deal of time advocating for others on all things mental health, I often feel unprepared and overwhelmed by what it feels like to be me. For all intents and purposes I should be dead and yet, I am still here. The truth is I still face sensations of disheartened dismay. The truth is I tried to take my own life three times. The truth is I have other family members who have tried and failed, still others who have tried and succeeded. The truth is suicide still crosses my mind as a function of mental illness, but these days I wont act on it. Socrates said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” I couldn’t agree more.

Child Abuse

Unfortunately, abuse is often generational. When I hear about the awful happenings in the world, I often imagine what the parents of those perpetrators must have been like. While nothing serves as an excuse for abuse, there are certainly explanations found all throughout human psychology. I have written about this before, however as I continue to process, I will go into greater detail in this post.

My mother is a survivor of abuse herself, and her lack of self-understanding was often reflected in her poor choice of partners. For as long as I can remember my parents were rarely in the same room, but my father was the only man who never hit her. My first step-father certainly doled out the worst of it. He was physically, emotionally, and verbally abusive toward my mother and I. The abuse consisted of name-calling, yelling, hair-pulling, hitting, slapping, pushing, shoving, squeezing and biting. Domestic violence was an almost daily occurrence in our home, not to be deterred by the company of others. This man destroyed a handful of my birthdays, relationships, and self-esteem. Adding insult to injury, he went so far as to cheat on my mother with her best friend, and threatened to take my very life.

My mother would later share with me that this was her breaking point. This was the event that finally gave her the courage to leave. She still harbors a great deal of guilt from this time in our life, and while I can not fathom exposing my son to these things, I understand her hesitation. Domestic violence often escalates when the victim attempts to end or flee the relationship.

Fortunately, my mind has managed to block out a lot of what happened. Eventually though, the memories resurfaced and my mother helped me fill in the blanks. These things did happen. I was questioned by police, and from the ages of 3 to 10 I was subject to child abuse on a pretty consistent basis. There were other odd things that took place as a result of our economic status such as exposure to petty home invasions, a general lack of supervision, and abusive babysitters.

Later, my mother met another man who was equally dysfunctional, but slightly less violent. He promised to carry us out of our hell and give us a fresh start. During my teenage years he mostly targeted my mother and younger sister. My previous abuse had grown in me a spine that would not tolerate anymore assault, and I told him so, directly to his red spitting face.

During these years the affairs of my mother would exacerbate the violence, and expose us to more strange men. As far back as my memory allows, my home was filled with undertones of abuse, and the childhood conclusion that the world is an unreliable and unsafe place. In some form of strange validation, my medical records show the early stages of my mental illness during this time with consistent reports of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks.

Abandonment and Sexual Abuse

When I was 12 my father experienced something of an existential crisis paired with a job offer that offered him a leg up, and he could no longer call Minnesota home. After spending the last decade of my life seeing my father every other weekend, which was often the only opportunity I had to escape my abuse and build positive memories, he moved to Texas. This experience caused me to cry more than I ever had before in my young life. It also prompted me to put my feelings on paper for the first time.

When I was 15, I was given the opportunity to drive cross-country with a family friend who would later add to my betrayal. He sexually abused me three times over the course of a month before I finally spoke up. While the abuse stopped, the repercussions of this event has had one of the worst ripple effects that still plagues my family today. You can read the details of what happened in a previous post titled, Trauma Confession Series: Overcoming Avoidance, where I speak about this publicly for the very first time.

Mental Illness and my First Suicide Attempt

The sexual abuse was my tipping point. Not surprisingly, I entered into similarly dysfunctional and abusive relationships and suffered those consequences as well. I began tolerating treatment I shouldn’t because it was what I had been exposed to. On some level, I felt I deserved it – which I would later learn could not be further from the truth. I endured false accusations, control dynamics, manipulation, and abuse for another five years. During this time my trauma aligned with my teenage turmoil and grew into a new kind of monster. Soon, my self preservation completely left me, and I began hurting myself. I started with kitchen knives and safety pins before graduating to razors. The scars were getting harder to hide and wearing hoodies in July was just impractical. So, I began piling on anything I could use to harm myself or alter my mood state including drugs, alcohol, and eating disorders. During this time my grades began to slip as my transcript clearly shows, the violence in my home continued, my mental illness worsened with increased episodes of hallucination and dissociation, and I grew increasingly detached from my surroundings.

One evening, I went across the street to spend the night with a friend. She could see that something was off with me. Looking back now, I can see how gentle and deliberate she was in her intervention and I am grateful, but at the time I was extremely pissed off. She left the room and I began dissociating from my environment once more as I searched for a sharp object. When she re-entered the room she could see me rummaging through her room and I mumbled something about walking into oncoming traffic. “I’ll be right back,” she said. When she returned she fed me some story about her mother driving to the bank and insisted I tag along. I shrugged my shoulders and got in the car. I stared out the window saying very little when I realized we were not at the bank at all. We were in the parking lot of our local emergency room. I snapped into a red hot anger I can still feel 15 years later. How dare she save me?

I sat in that emergency room for a long while refusing to give up my information as my friend pleaded with the nurse to admit me. Eventually I caved and gave my identifying information. During my stay I experienced sucide watch isolation, spiritual phenomena, the probing questions of a much younger child, and I was asked to take the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) which was ultimately used to improperly diagnose and improperly medicate me. Unfortunately this is fairly common in dealing with teenagers and complex mental illness. You can read more about self injury, what therapy taught me, and how I freed myself from this in a previous post titled, Trauma Confession Series: Self-Injury & Letting Go.

Suicide in the Family

In the years that followed I continued to fall into bad patterns of behavior. Finally at my wits end, I left home at the age of 17 and never looked back. I bounced around the Midwest for a couple of years before I totally lost my footing. Following an unhealthy relationship with a traumatic ending, I relocated to Texas eager to rebuild. Not long after a failed attempt to purchase a vehicle and enroll in college for the first time, I found myself the recipient of more bad news. Within 24 hours I lost a dear family friend and my maternal grandfather to suicide. You can read the full story in a previous post titled, A Suicide Survivor Story – Part I and Part II.

Self Injury and Self Medicating

Not surprisingly, experiencing loss to suicide shook me to my core and sent me spiraling into an untreated dangerous mind set. At the age of 19 I had slim to no coping skills, and fell deeper into substance abuse and disordered eating to cope with the nightmares alone. Through it all I fought like hell to be better. I was writing feverishly, grasping at mindfulness exercises, and finally confessing to myself that I was attracted to women. The fight within was violent. Eventually the scales tipped against me and the surge of pain I experienced proved to be too great. At the height of it, I found myself waking up hungover in pools of blood and tepid bath water, still fully clothed from the night before. I knew if I didn’t change my circumstances I would die.

My closeness with my father, God help me I love him, was not enough to sustain me much longer. Perhaps he recognized this, and in his fine intuition urged me to make a suicide pact with him. In our shared desperation we promised each other that come hell or high water, and we had had plenty of both at that point, suicide was just simply not an option. So, I set out to make big changes in my life, once more chasing the breath the world seemed determined to squeeze out of me.

The Turning Point

I took a job away from home, traveled excessively, and learned to fall in love again. With the help of my incredible friends and mentors, I began to reconnect with others, with life, and with myself. At the age of 21 I learned I was pregnant, and my life was no longer about me. My body was no longer mine, and my mind no longer failed to blossom. I became an overnight sensation, instantly sober, and determined to practice motherhood with clarity and poise. I returned to Minnesota and the first couple of years were mostly delightful, albeit bouts of post-partum depression, and the sneaking suspicion that something just wasn’t right with me.

Medical Trauma and Chronic Pain

When my son was approaching his first birthday we decided to move to Colorado. It had been our teenage dream to inherit God’s good mountains and a nature mindset for our son. In true fashion, however, just two weeks in our light was once again snuffed out by something I still find myself unwilling and unable to write about. I fear the task is so great I will never be fully able to grasp or express the magnitude of our experience. (Perhaps the best thing to do would be to one day sit down with my journals from that time and tackle the re-telling from the heart.) In short, our 23 year old brother suffered end stage kidney failure and it traumatized us all.

Two years later I moved back to Texas as it always seemed to offer me a soft landing. Shortly after, I was involved in a car accident that left my body never quite the same. I now live with a spinal injury, S.I. joint dysfunction, nerve damage, and migraines on a daily basis.

It wasn’t until I left my decade of trauma behind that I realized just how severely PTSD had impacted my quality of life. I found myself in a strategic but unhappy marriage with the promise of familiarity and family ties. I was young, but I understood my son’s memory was beginning to form, and I had no choice but to take my mental health seriously. It was time to grow up and get honest because white-knuckling it wasn’t working anymore. So, I went back to school for Child Development and Psychology, entered the field of Behavioral Health, and sought mental health treatment. You can read more in depth about what drove me to find a psychiatrist in a previous post titled, Ugly Truth 34: Psychosis Sucks.

After a proper diagnosis, anti-psychotic medication, and a 7 day in-patient hospitalization that offered me crash course therapy as a professional courtesy, I found myself more stable. I knew there was only one thing left to do.

Identity Crisis and Recovery

Two more years passed until finally I was strong enough to come off my medication, end my marriage, and come out as a lesbian. After one more misstep and two more traumatic relationships, I finally embraced trauma work and self development once and for all. I started to confront the abuse, the abandonment, the trauma, and face my personal truth. I began to manage my symptoms differently and write more, which led to the publication of this blog. I got real with myself and my family about my sexuality. I found it flatly irresponsible to date in my current condition, so I began developing concrete coping skills, growing into my skin, and advocating for others to keep myself in perspective. It sounds strange, but in many ways I had to get to know myself again. Once you strip away all the damage and co-dependency, you’re left with nothing short of a raw sense of self. The truth is you have to process and mourn the loss of whatever pain you carry, let it go (really let it go), and replace it with gratitude for the present moment – which you, and only you, are solely responsible for. It sounds simple enough, however, most people are too busy practicing avoidance or denial to notice. I was one of them. Letting go of my pride and my pain taught me just how useful the vulnerable truth can be. It is a natural gateway to becoming a more loving and compassionate human being, which in turn lends itself well to building meaningful relationships.

Today I am blessed to have more peace in my life than ever before. I try to never lose sight of the fact that the life I live now is something I once could only dream of. There were times so unmatched with darkness I was convinced I would never get out alive. At some point though, you have to set boundaries and take responsibility for your own well being. If you consistently victimize yourself, you will remain in a state of helplessness which, interestingly enough, is a learned behavior. Lucky for us, behavior and thought processes alike are malleable in that they can be changed and modified. As I like to say, adapt or die. Put more gently, pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. No amount of traumatic endurance ensures us that bad things won’t happen. Perhaps the most important thing then, is being prepared for when they do.

Today I have the love of an incredibly beautiful woman who spreads warmth and light everywhere she goes. I feel so lucky to have her, but I also know I deserve her. You can read more about her and how hard I fell in a previous post titled, Ugly Truth 37: Loving a Woman Changed my Worldview.

I have a decent outlook on life (with a healthy dose of cynicism), and most of my sanity intact because that is what I set out to build for myself. The truth is I still struggle from time to time with the chemical imbalances of Bipolar Disorder, the triggers of PTSD, and the irrational uncertainty of Panic Disorder. Some of this just never goes away, but you can certainly achieve some semblance of functioning, happiness even. If nothing else, may this post serve as a reminder that surviving and thriving are not mutually exclusive. Living through trauma is almost never linear. You are not alone, and I’m still here to tell about it.

**If you’re a mental health survivor or mental health provider and want to tell your story – please email me at!**

For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!

In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!

Mental health

Ugly Truth 46: June is PTSD Awareness Month!

“The conflict between the will to deny horrible events and the will to proclaim them aloud is the central dialectic of psychological trauma.”

-Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror

The Facts:

*PTSD is not just Veterans of War
*Rape Victims Have a 49% Chance of Developing PTSD
*7-8% of the U.S. Population Will Have PTSD at Some Point
*Women are Twice as Likely to Develop PTSD
*Symptoms can Take Months or Years to Develop

*Individuals with PTSD are 2-4 Times More Likely to Develop a Substance Use Disorder
*78% of Those with a Diagnosis Experience Depression in Their Lifetime
*People who Suffer From PTSD are More Likely to Commit Suicide
*1/3 of Veterans with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) Also Meet Criteria for PTSD

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can develop after a very stressful, frightening or distressing event, or after a prolonged traumatic experience.

Events That Can Lead to PTSD Include:

*serious accidents *physical or sexual assault

*abuse, including childhood or domestic abuse *exposure to traumatic events at work, including remote exposure

*serious health problems, such as being admitted to intensive care *childbirth experiences, such as losing a baby

*war and conflict *medical trauma

*civil unrest *pandemics

PTSD develops in about 1 in 3 people who experience severe trauma. It’s not fully understood why some people develop the condition while others do not. While treatment is available, some symptoms may never diminish.

Symptoms Include:

physical pain

nightmares or flashbacks

depression or anxiety

withdrawl or avoidance


emotional numbing




guilt or shame

Discuss: Does PTSD impact your life in some way? Share your experience in the comments below.

**If you’re a mental health survivor or mental health provider and want to tell your story – please email me at!**

For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!

In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!