Mindful PTSD. Part 2

I joke that my life is a whole lot better since I’ve been going to bed with Rick Hanson.

It’s true.

He’s in my bedroom every night as my invited guest. I take him into the deepest parts of me almost as soon as I get under my covers.

But what I love has nothing to do with sex. It’s his voice and his brain and his adorably quirky personality.

He’s like a Buddhist Mr. Rogers running the science fair for the art students in high school.

He’s my latest love but not my first.

That was Belleruth Naparstek.

She’s like the fairy godmother of healing trauma trying to share secrets with a military, therapeutic community and civilian population. She wants us to know healing can be easier and less grueling. She’s been playing in my house and head for decades saying, “There are easier ways. Really.”

If you haven’t tried guided meditation or imagery I can tell you what it does for me. 

Long before I could routinely get myself to a yoga mat in the privacy of my own home, guided imagery or meditation has been a go-to practice. Writing is the only one I do more often. That gets some of my daily attention.

I can’t always center myself enough to practice stillness at home. I still can’t do yoga for more than 20 minutes even when alone. In fact, when I need it most it is most difficult to do.

When it comes to meditation – I need props, instruction and guidance. It might be because I’m a survivor or it might be because I have a Type A personality. I can’t do it solo. 

When I try, I often end up sniffing my peppermint oil or using coconut oil to massage my scalp and face. It’s good self-care but focused more on beauty than breath.

Or I end up mad at myself because I can’t even do something as simple as focus on inhalations and exhalations.

I have a daughter who can recite the lines from her favorite books and movies. Me? I recite lines from guided imagery CD’s.

Naparstek: “I accept what I feel as my inner truth of the moment.”

Hanson: “Neurons that fire together wire together.”

I can hear the rhythm and tone of their voices as I write. I swear it the listening and being spoken to that is as nurturing as the words they choose.

It’s primal and sensory.

They speak s l o w l y and d e l i b e r a t e l y.

They breathe and pause and are silent too.

I don’t completely understand why I love it so much but I know it fills my empty reserves completely and in ways little else can.

All I know is when I listen, before bed, I feel tucked in by love, as though I’m a little kid (in the best way) getting a before bed story by some older and trusted relative who adores me.

It’s as though tenderness itself is comforting me as I get sleepy and I marinate in that feeling. 

They are like swim instructors at the beach who hold the hand of the scared kid who isn’t sure he wants to go into the water. They say, “You too can learn. This ocean is yours too. You can get past the fear. You can do it.”

They are also lifeguards, watching from shore, yelling at the daring girl when she’s swimming in the water near a rip tide. Only they don’t use bull horns or whistles.

Unlike the ocean where the water is cold and I have to reveal pale skin and a bathing suit, in my bedroom, I’m get to be alone and warm. Instead of water, there’s only moonlight streaming towards me through my window.

I let my head go back on my pillow, allow my hands to settle on my face or belly and listen.

It’s that easy.

It’s like the most intimate conversation where I don’t have to say a thing.

No one gets hurt feelings if I fall asleep mid-sentence. They repeat it all again tomorrow without complaint.

It’s a blueberry smoothie for my soul without a messy blender to clean – mess-free yummy.

It’s all the comfort of falling asleep in front of the TV without waking up in a puddle of drool with a cramped neck on the couch.

It’s paid for parenting I can plug in at night without any real-life Mommy or Daddy issues.

It’s therapy without the cost, co-pays or need for appointments.

It’s medicine absent all the side effects. I get mood elevation without weight gain or a lackluster libido.

I always feel more uplifted, dreamy and tethered to the planet after listening. I get that cosmically connected feeling even though no one has preached, asked me to tithe or said anyone will suffer an eternal damnation.

Tools that work, when you have post-traumatic stress are gifts.

The older I get the more I realize that for me, self-care is not optional! In fact, I need it more than other people or I get cranky, frantic and more scattered than usual.

I’ve got to mama my trauma and all of my symptoms or else they go from crying infants to pissed off and ignored toddlers. Or worse. They go silent, numb and feral. If I respond and soothe quickly, reliably and often, it’s much easier. That has been one of the most difficult parts of my healing to learn.

Tuning into my needs does not make me or them unruly. The opposite is true. The days of hoping I don’t have to keep learning or remembering are over. I can’t get my teeth cleaned once and have them shiny. I can’t buy groceries this week and be fed for life. Self-care and nurturing isn’t only meant to snuff out the hard feelings but has to be a way of life.

The truth is – I FORGET THIS EVERY SINGLE DAY. 

I need a daily practice that doesn’t require my remembering what I’ve learned. The one thing I can count on is not remembering.

I don’t assume I’ll wake up on time without an alarm clock.

I no longer assume I’ll attend to calming down without guided imagery and meditation.

For me, who can have a default setting like Eeyore hopped up on caffeine I will take any reminder to get grateful and where my anemic nervous system gets helped by iron.

Plus, it brings me to a reverie state.

Instead of doing before bed ruminating and obsessing, I’m remembering the parts of my day most special or sacred.

For example, yesterday afternoon I went kayaking which was lovely and enjoyable.

Before bed, when prompted to think of soothing images, I pictured the clouds which I had seen overhead, in the ocean, as fluffy and within reach, as though I could pull them down from the sky.

I remembered feeling bounced in the water, gently rocked and how the wind felt tangible and visceral and helped me cut into the water with speed.

I re-inhabited the best parts of my day enjoying them all over again. This too, being grateful, appreciative and cued into my senses is wonderful work that takes practice and a practice.

Before bed I FELT how enjoyable and lovely the experience had been all the way into my bone marrow.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t know Naperstek or Hanson in “real” life. I know of their work. They are both brainy and accessible, passionate and humble and keep their prices reasonable.

They tell the truth about how much trauma impacts the body. They don’t minimize the significance of trauma. However, they also remain hopeful about the potential for authentic healing and recovery for anyone.

It’s just my perfect blend of honest and optimistic. Because they seem genuine, I let them into my before bed brain.

So listen, I’m not jealous or possessive and we’re all adults here. These people want their tools to be used and their voices to be heard.

And if you have any tools you want to share, lessons learned on the journey, please share. We can help each other!

Email: [email protected]

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For links to their work, click their names and go to their websites.

Belleruth Naparstek

Rick Hanson