Michelle Tasa | CPTSDfoundation.org

Start Training for the Holidays

Michelle Tasa — Tue, 02 Nov 2021 09:35:41 +0000

Training for a marathon makes sense. Training for a job evaluation-definitely. Have you thought about training for the holidays?

Winter is Coming…

Up here in Canada, the leaves are turning yellow and falling from the trees. Summer days give way far too easily to the chill breezes of autumn. In a blink it is over, the snow quickly covering any leftover reminders of dappling toes in the water or feeling the sun sink deep into our skin. For me, autumn brings a kind of dread that is difficult to explain. It’s like a summoning up of courage to face the oncoming cold. I begin to brace myself internally as soon as I feel that chill and desperately scan the sky for the sun. I know it’s more than the temperature that my brain is anticipating. Winter is synonymous with traditions, celebrations, and reminiscing. It brings a season of holidays, one after another, that have to be navigated carefully.

Winter Brings Holidays

These holidays are difficult for those of us who carry trauma in our bones. Holidays are seldom filled with only positive emotions. They are markers of the passage of time that require a measure of nostalgia.

In 2 days my son will turn 15 years old. It’s the first of many sweetly painful moments of the winter season. His boyhood is gone and, if I am not careful, I am hit like a truck with memories of his father who we are still grieving. I hear his father in his deep, throaty guffaw. I see the same twinkle of glee in his blue eyes that his father had when dishing out a terrible pun. I feel his protective gaze upon me when he worries, and it reminds me of the way my husband loved to be my protector. Amidst the preparations to honour his birthday, I grieve once more for the loss of my husband.

These holidays and traditions of winter are just beginning and I feel unprepared. Soon Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas will be upon us and we need to begin preparing ourselves. We need to train for the upcoming marathon of emotion.

The Danger of Denial at Holiday Time

I wrote a post about last year in November when I was struggling with overwhelming feelings, traumatic flashbacks, and lengthy dissociations. I recall a moment with my doctor when she was asking questions to determine the root of this increased distress. We went through a long list of possible causes but nothing resonated until she asked me about Christmas.

“Christmas?” I replied. “I haven’t given Christmas any thought at all.”

She looked at me with her typical keenness and made an observation. “I think Michelle, we should look carefully at what you are avoiding thinking about.”

I practically gasped out loud as the gigantic pile of worries, fears, memories, and past traumas connected with Christmas appeared out of nowhere. No, not nowhere. They were there the whole time. Like an elephant, I had tried to cover with a tablecloth muttering, ‘la, la, la” and plugging my ears to pretend it away. I’d fooled my conscious self but my unconscious self was not to be trifled with. The feelings I could not understand before, crystalized.

This is what we do sometimes, not only those of us who carry trauma. We deny. We hide. We run. We minimize. My Christmases of the past carried horrible experiences of my Grandmother’s suicide, my father being incarcerated, the stress of financial issues as were bankrupted over and over again, and graphic memories of childhood abuse. Now, I had to add even more to that pile of unresolved pain. My husband’s death, worries about my children, and making Christmas a beautiful memory for them, Covid robbing us of a family at a time we needed them most. I had tried to run from it all and it had dogged my heels, landing on top of me and burying me in pain.

Training for the Holidays

I don’t want that to happen again. I want to be ready to face the inevitable swirl of emotions that each celebration will bring. That is what I am going to train for.

How? By doing the opposite of my instinctual reaction. I will not run, hide or deny. I will face the emotions with whatever skills I have right now. It won’t be pretty. I can guarantee that. But I won’t be sucker-punched by unresolved trauma from years past or present worries.

I will journal. I will talk to trusted individuals. I will use art to express emotion. I will practice self-care. I will be ready.

What will you be doing to train for the holidays?

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Michelle Tasa

How to Battle ADHD Kryptonite!

Michelle Tasa — Wed, 29 Sep 2021 10:00:28 +0000

ADHD can be comorbid with CPTSD. The symptoms of ADHD significantly overlap those of CPTSD. It can be a case of the chicken or the egg. Trauma may cause ADHD symptoms to become more severe. Or, ADHD brains may suffer more from early trauma. Either way, understanding ADHD can be very helpful for those who have suffered childhood trauma.

Those of us who have ADHD have kryptonite. You know kryptonite right? It’s the little green glowing rock that brings Superman to his knees. When Superman is doing his thing, kicking butt and being a boss, along comes Lex Luther with that little green rock and suddenly, Superman is sapped of all his strength. That is kryptonite.

Kryptonite for ADHD brains is boredom. I know, all of you neurotypicals out there are snickering to yourselves a little bit.

ADHD Brain Chemistry

ADHD is the result of a deficiency of a neurotransmitter called norepinephrine. This neurotransmitter is buddies with dopamine, the thing that controls our brain’s reward and pleasure center. That has impacts on a number of different brain functions. One of those functions is how we motivate ourselves to accomplish a task.

Often we are given advice from neurotypicals that just don’t work for us.

“Pull your socks up.”

” Quit procrastinating and get it done.”

” Stop being lazy.”

How would Superman deal with those well-meaning suggestions?

“Hey, Superman, quit being lazy and just throw that kryptonite away man!” It is literally the same for a brain that does not produce enough dopamine. It’s the reason why ADHD brains can be amazingly, fantastically productive when doing something pleasurable. Then, that same productive brain literally shuts down when faced with a menial task.

My Personal ADHD Kryptonite

I’ve been an educator for more than 20 years. I also have ADHD and CPTSD. As a teacher, I thrive in the fast-paced atmosphere of a grade one classroom. I could work for hours on setting up my classroom, creating teaching materials, or researching innovative teaching techniques. When the time would come to prepare report cards? Kryptonite. BAM!

Now, I am highly motivated to do a good job, to hand things in on time, and to communicate well with parents about their child’s learning. The motivation was not my problem. I would open up that blank page and immediately shut down. In order to fight this particular kryptonite, I had to develop a coping strategy.

ADHD Kryptonite Busting

Step 1: about 6 weeks before the reports were due I would calculate the number of comments I needed to write in order to complete the task. 24 students multiplied by an English, Science, Social Studies, Math, and General comment equal 120 comments. Over 6 weeks, that meant I had to finish 20 comments each week. Breaking the task down into pieces was essential. 20 comments feel much better than 120.

Step 2: Now I had to ensure that I wrote 20 comments each week to stay on track. Time for some dopamine (AKA bribery). I had to be tough with myself but also hold out that carrot. So, no Netflix until the job was done. Then, a celebration Netflix marathon once my 20 comments were written. It was not easy but I kept my eye on the prize.

Step 3: Week one and two usually went along great and by week three I was struggling. I didn’t give in and watch Netflix, but I would suddenly need to micro-organize my closet or research how to remove stains from my couch. Each time I opened that document to start comments, my brain would groan. Step 3 involved breaking down the task even more. 20 comments per week meant 4 per weekday. Now I would allow myself a reward after every 4 comments.

Step 4: celebrate my accomplishment and try not to think of doing it all over again in 3 months. Actually, it made me kind of feel like Superman to finish those report cards.

The role of the ADHD Sidekick

Coping with report cards is something I figured out after years of frustration, struggle, and feeling like a failure. The strategy works, sometimes. It is currently August of 2021 and my taxes aren’t done. I’ve opened that page hundreds of times and suddenly been compelled to clean my fridge. Taxes are currently beating me down.

Sometimes a sidekick is necessary.

My son was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 5 by a psychologist. She told me that he was a very well-adjusted, intelligent boy. He also spent the whole session on his head, upsidedown on the couch. Yep…ADHD. It was probably incredibly boring to chat with this older woman. Being upsidedown allowed his brain enough dopamine to manage a conversation.

I’m my son’s sidekick. Now that he is almost 15 we spend a lot of time jokingly blaming each other for his forgetfulness.

“Why didn’t you have a shower last night?”

“Why didn’t you remind me? I have ADHD, remember?”

“Yeah, well I have ADHD too so I forgot to remind you!”

But truthfully, it is easier to help him complete his tasks than to do my own. Plus, I understand his challenges very, very well.

A sidekick can help us focus on our goals. It takes a subtle balance of nagging, humor, and letting go.

Sidekick Strategies

I bought my son a vibrating watch and I help him set alarms for things he wants to remember to do. At 6:00 every night that watch vibrates and I hear him thunder up the stairs to take out the recycling. The rule that works for him is to stop whatever he is doing when that watch vibrates and does his task. I’ve always done the same. When I get an email asking me to do something, I do it right away. I am far more likely to get it done right then and much more likely to forget if I close that email.

When he struggles, I try to reinforce for him, the goals he has set. I remind him of the strategies we have put into place Then, I give him a hug and tell him that I am proud of him for battling his own kryptonite.

I am proud. Because ADHD also comes with incredible creativity, a deep sensitivity to peoples’ emotions, and the capacity for outstanding achievements. When we battle that kryptonite, we truly are superheroes!

Michelle is an educator, an artist, and a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. When diagnosed with CPTSD in September of 2020, Michelle began to document her journey on her blog, . She seeks to connect with others on the journey and dreams of creating a charity to offer funds for victims of childhood trauma who cannot access trauma therapy due to cost. Her artwork and her writing help her to express her feelings about this long and challenging journey. She lives in Calgary, AB, Canada, with her two children.

Michelle Tasa

When Grief Gets Complicated

Michelle Tasa — Tue, 21 Sep 2021 10:05:10 +0000

It was a rough-hewn box secured with 4 large screws. The receptionist asked if I wanted help to open the box but I quickly refused. I wanted only to run, to carry this box and its contents away and there were no thoughts beyond that. I hefted the surprisingly heavy box and left.

The weight of the contents made my arms leaden. Not because it was so heavy. No, because the emotions were beginning to pull me under. The familiar fingers of grief closed around my heart and I felt the dread of being overwhelmed. I made it to the car before the sob escaped. I laid my head on the steering wheel and waited for the tears but, as usual, they never came. They remained, stuck within.

Complicated Grief Defined

Grief is termed complicated when it extends past the typical period of normal grief. Though ‘normal’ is a terrible term to attach to grief, it helps to identify when unresolved grief becomes a serious condition. The DSM describes Complicated Grief or Prolonged Grief Disorder as “persistent longing or yearning and/or preoccupation with the deceased accompanied by at least 3 of 8 additional symptoms that include disbelief, intense emotional pain, feeling of identity confusion, avoidance of reminders of the loss, feelings of numbness, intense loneliness, meaninglessness or difficulty engaging in ongoing life.”

When adapting to a loss there are three key parts: 1) accepting the reality, including the finality and consequences of the loss, 2) reconfiguring the internalized relationship with the deceased person to incorporate this reality, and 3) envisioning ways to move forward with a sense of purpose and meaning and possibilities for happiness.

Complicated grief occurs when something interferes with adaptation. When this happens acute grief can persist for very long periods of time. A person with complicated grief feels intense emotional pain. They can’t stop feeling like their loved one might somehow reappear and they don’t see a pathway forward. A future without their loved one seems forever dismal and unappealing.

My Journey Through Complicated Grief

I was diagnosed with Complicated Grief in December of 2020, 9 months after the death of my husband. This journey of grief has been a long one.

It began in 2008 when my husband was diagnosed with Spino-cerebellar Ataxia (SCA). Our children were 2 years old and 9 months old when our lives changed so completely. SCA is a genetic, neurological disease that progresses slowly and ends in premature death. It was a disease we knew. My husband’s brother has suffered for over 20 years with the disease and his mother had died at 35 years old, possibly from the same condition.

We knew some of what the disease would take from us. We knew, but from the moment we left the neurologist’s office, my husband made it clear that we would never discuss it. I still wonder if that was a gift he was trying to give me. Later, I knew that denial was the predominant reason for our lack of communication. I never had to share his grief, his depression, his fear. He did not share those with me if he ever allowed himself to feel them. I did not have to carry those things but I had to shoulder my own without leaning on him. It was lonely and painful but our focus was our children. They kept us centered on building memories.

For 7 years I walked away from my dream of being a stay-at-home mom and homeschooling our kids. I took a teaching job in an isolated location and I managed. There was no time for grief with 2 children under 3, a full-time job, and a husband who was slowly losing his motor skills, hearing, executive functioning, and emotional control. There was only time to manage, to cope.

Some moments along the way, I felt the loss deeply. The first time he had to be hospitalized, the first time he used a walker, and the first time he lashed out at the kids in anger. They were snippets of grief and loss along the way. I wish grief could be collected up and accounted for. I’d suffered those moments already, they should have been credited to my grief account. Subtracted somehow.

In 2012 I moved my husband to an apartment in a housing block not far from us. He was no longer safe around the children. I had arrived home from work to find him gripping my daughter around the neck. He was angry with her for picking up the cat by the neck and wanted to teach her a lesson. He did not even register her terror or her tears. My gentle, compassionate, tender husband was disappearing and being replaced by an unreasonable, explosive, and violent man.

We lived together but apart for almost a year. Then, the strain was too much and I had to place him in a long-term care facility. That was easier but also so much harder. Every visit ended with his pleas to come home and it felt like I broke his heart each time we left him there. He also managed to escape the facility multiple times, making his way to the bus station with the idea of leaving town. The facility often called to say that he escaped again. I would drive around town trying to find him and then have to convince him to return.

Eventually, my husband had to be transferred to a locked ward in order to keep him safe. That loss was incredibly painful. Guilt was mixed with loss and loneliness. I recall feeling overwhelmed by grief at that time. I thought it was appropriate to mourn the man who was no longer within, even as he was physically still with us.

The years after that were focused on my young children, managing life as a single parent, and trying to maintain a relationship between my children and their father. Then, in 2015 I was offered a teaching position in Beijing China and I made the decision to go overseas. It was so incredibly hard to leave my husband behind. His dementia was progressing rapidly and he could no longer walk with a walker. He slept for much of the day and each time we visited, he pleaded to come home with us. It was agonizing.

For close to 5 years my children and I thrived in China. They were able to attend prestigious International schools while I was finally able to earn enough money as a teacher to claw our way out of debt. We traveled and learned so many things during that time. Each summer we returned home and spent time with my husband, wondering if that would be our last visit.

In March of 2020, my husband passed away. The news hit me like a Mack truck! I can’t even explain how violently I reacted to news that I had been expecting for years. It swallowed me whole. The pandemic had only recently begun and I was faced with the impossible choice of returning to Canada and losing my job or staying in China and facing my grief without family support. I chose to stay. My husband was cremated. There was no memorial. No funeral. No way to say a final goodbye.

And that is where I became stuck. I’m still stuck.

More than a year after his death, collecting his ashes, I feel undone. Complicated grief requires support. It is grief that is not simply resolved with time. “Time heals all wounds” does not apply.

A New Way to View Grief

https://cptsdfoundation.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/120624546_1152456831913646_736778313145507037_n.mp4

I appreciate the way grief is described in this video. As I have waited anxiously for my grief to lessen, to quiet within, I can now see things differently. To make grief smaller, my life must grow around it. Perhaps that is how I got stuck in the first place. Perhaps I cradled my grief and refused to look outwards. Now I am trying to push at the boundaries of my life while acknowledging the grief. I have a long way yet to go but I feel that I am stepping outside the circle of my grief.

Michelle Tasa

Dissociation For Dummies

Michelle Tasa — Wed, 08 Sep 2021 10:15:43 +0000

By Michelle Tasa

So today is one of those days where I am struggling to be present in my body. It is a weird and disturbing result of childhood trauma. It’s called dissociation, and I’ve been doing it without knowing almost my whole life.

What is Dissociation?

Dissociation is a disconnection between a person’s memories, feelings, behaviours, perceptions, and/or sense of self. 1 This disconnection is automatic and entirely out of the person’s control. It’s often described as an “out of body” experience. Most people have a sense of what it feels like to ‘zone out.’ But what does a dissociate disorder feel like?

Level 1- Autopilot

So, everyone dissociates sometimes. You get in the car, drive to a familiar place and realize you have no recollection of the trip. Your body has gone into autopilot while your brain was busy with other things. It can be quite disconcerting, but we know that it happens to everyone. For me, there are a few more levels of dissociation, and they almost feel like taking a step deeper into my mind each time.

Level 2- Zoning Out

This level is what I call ‘zoning out.’ I actually didn’t realize that this doesn’t happen to everyone. My kids catch me doing it quite regularly and say things like, ” Mom, you’re staring through me again.”

Everyone who has ever watched a movie with me will groan in frustrated agreement that I almost always ‘zone out’ during movies. “Remember that movie we watched last week?” they will say and, though I can recall sitting down to watch a movie with them, I have very little recall of the plot. I could watch the film again as if I’d never seen it.

I can get to this middle level consciously now just by pushing farther into my mind. If I listen to music and push in, I can start to see the music and interact with it. The images my imagination makes will swirl around me, and I will be completely engrossed in the listening experience.

Another example is exercise. In fact, I wrote the first part of this blog in my head this morning while on the rowing machine. I glanced down and saw that I’d been rowing for 8 minutes, then looked the next time and found that 28 minutes had passed without my awareness. Only once I was oriented to the present again did I feel fatigued in my muscles and the speed of my heart rate. This is new and, actually, kinda freaking awesome. Apparently, high-performance athletes dissociate to push their bodies to extremes. I have always been a very low, if not, non-performing athlete. So, it is still quite shocking to complete a 40-minute workout while writing shopping lists in my head.

Level 3- Crazytown

There is a deeper level, and this is the one that makes it all too clear we’ve entered crazy town and might be there for a long while.

While I was in the hospital in September of 2020, I had my first flashback. It was so decompensating that I dissociated to this more profound level. I could no longer feel my body at all. I felt like I was dreaming but also not at all like I was dreaming. It felt more real if that makes sense, and I recalled every detail later. I seldom recall my dreams.

In this dissociation, I was greeted in my mind by a little girl wearing an ankle-length nightie whose name was Annie. She looked to be about 5 years old, but her features were blurry, so I couldn’t tell for sure. Annie grabbed my hand and pulled me up into the sky to ‘float’ with the stars. I suddenly remembered ‘floating’ many times with Annie as a child when traumatic events took place. It was exhilarating to float among the stars, feeling light as air. However, I ‘woke up’ from this dissociation with a whole lot of questions and very few answers.

Still, it made logical sense to me that a child experiencing trauma can leave their bodies in some sense. The brain does this to protect itself from emotional shock. Still weird but not crazy town.

My next flashback again launched me into dissociation, and this time things got freaky. Annie, who is a very bossy and precocious little thing, demanded that I play with her. She would not let me open my eyes. I kept refusing her suggestions to float in the stars, surf on clouds, have a tea party, play barbies, and finally, play dress-up. OK, at this point, you are probably with me on the crazy town part. Well, it gets weirder. I was getting really frustrated and wanted to open my eyes when a second person arrived in my head. I knew her as ‘Teacher’ though I don’t know how I knew that and I did not recognize her.

Teacher looked at Annie and me as if she wanted some kind of explanation for our argument. So, I explained how this annoying little kid kept asking me to play stupid games with her. I was a grown-ass woman, after all, and I did not play barbies anymore. Plus, I did not want to be stuck in my head anymore. Also, by the way, what the actual fuck was going on????

Annie then disappeared. Teacher gave me a look that I am sure has crossed my face many times while she ‘educated’ me. She said, ‘that little girl saved you hundreds of times from really terrible things. If she asks you to play barbies, you will damn well play barbies. Respect the fact that we are all here to help you.”

Say what???

Hold up. All? Like as in, there are more people in my head? By now, I am repeating to myself, “if you think you’re crazy, you probably aren’t.” However, I am not for one second buying that. Later, my psychiatrist explained to me what dissociating was and how childhood trauma victims can have fragmented personalities (i.e., strange people in your head criticizing you for not playing barbies).

So, that’s dissociation for dummies. I have lots and lots of stories to share about my adventures while dissociating. I also am trying very hard not to lose myself in there anymore and live life thoroughly grounded and present. Today I didn’t do so well. Maybe part of writing this blog is to see if any other people can relate. Also, I’ve wondered about writing a book-oh so cliche, I know. Yet, I am staring at a future without income. Holding down a full-time job seems like a long way away. In the meantime, being present in my life is my goal.

What Is Dissociation? – Verywell Mind. https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-dissociation-22201

Michelle is an educator, an artist and a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. When diagnosed with CPTSD in September of 2020, Michelle began to document her journey on her blog, . She seeks to connect with others on the journey and dreams of creating a charity to offer funds for victims of childhood trauma who cannot access trauma therapy due to cost. Her artwork and her writing help her to express her feelings about this long and challenging journey. She lives in Calgary, AB, Canada, with her two children.

Michelle Tasa