Healing Avoidance Symptoms
This is the second part in a series of posts about my thoughts while reading A Practical Guide to Complex PTSD, by Arielle Schwartz, Ph.D. For more posts like this, take a look at my page on bibliotherapy.
I Am Learning to Be Here Now
Alicia thinks about running away.
I often feel like I want to run away. Like if I packed up my vehicle with a tent, a sleeping bag, some camping gear, and some food, and just started driving, everything would be easier. I could start over somewhere else, where nobody knows me. I could spend my days alone, if I wanted, and I wouldn’t have any responsibilities to weigh me down.
Of course, every time I start to think about this, I realize that my troubles would only follow me. My lack of income would be a barrier to living the nomadic life I dream of. I might meet new people, but I would miss the few friends I have.
I would miss my partner, too.
Now that I don’t have any animals, I wouldn’t have to worry about leaving them behind, but I would still miss them.
No one ever really gets to start fresh. Not even people under witness protection. They still carry their baggage along with them. Their hopes and dreams and successes and failures. None of that ever really leaves you.
I feel like this mostly when I feel stuck. When I feel trapped.
When I was a kid, I was stuck. I was trapped. I dreamed of ways to escape on a regular basis. I looked at the ads in the back of Boys Life and wished I could buy that hovercraft. I had plans for distributing the few things I’d need to take with me on each of the “legs.” I had no idea the thing wouldn’t work. I just wanted a means to get away.
When our father moved someplace that backed up on some woods, I packed a backpack to keep in the closet in the room I used on the weekends. My siblings and I tramped through those woods, planning places to hide and “practicing.” Practicing for what, we never really said, but yeah, we knew.
Our mother had the same M.O. as Alicia’s father. She would make us stand there while she berated and belittled us. But then she’d act like the world’s perfect mother for anyone not living in her house.
I don’t really run away from things or from people. I do have trouble keeping in contact with people that I’ve formed loose relationships with, but then they don’t keep in contact with me, either.
I do, however, avoid new situations. It takes me a long time to become comfortable enough with new people to let them in.
Understanding Avoidance
Dissociation
I never really thought I had problems with dissociation, but maybe I do. I tend to hold my stress in my neck and shoulders, which contributes to my chronic migraines. I also have the tendency to perfectionism to the point where I sometimes don’t start things because I’m afraid I won’t be able to do them perfectly.
I’ve had to consciously develop my ability to withstand making mistakes not because I’m any kind of genius, but because school was never difficult for me, and perfection was always demanded of me. I am highly self-critical, often calling myself names. I’m probably 100 times harder on myself than anyone, other than my mother, ever has been.
I also used to have a huge problem with other people’s mistakes. They would upset me, and I would correct them, usually in my head.
I still correct others’ mistakes in my head, but I’m not as intolerant of mistakes that are not my own as I used to be, unless it adversely affects other people.
I also avoid my emotions by over-intellectualizing things.
Flashbacks
I have had many emotional flashbacks, not that I ever recognized them as such, way back when. However, any time I’m “in trouble,” the adrenaline dumps and I panic. I stop being able to think. My heart pounds in my ears and my breathing rate increases and my breaths become more shallow. I start to jiggle my legs and pound my hands together or against other parts of my body. Not in an injurious way, but like a stim. Doing these things helps me calm down, eventually.
None of this happens when there’s a crisis because of someone else’s behavior or something that happens to them. When there’s a crisis that is not my doing, I can think quickly and address the situation head on. My tharn seems to happen only when the crisis is of my own making, or if I’m being blamed for something, regardless of whether or not I truly had a part in the making of the situation.
Often, the only way to regain control over my brain after such an attack (because it is an attack of the body against the mind) is to avoid all thoughts of the situation. I have to distract myself with short (because my attention span is severely reduced for the time) videos on YouTube. Preferably something endearing, and not anything that requires any negative energy. After I spend several hours flitting from one short video to another, I am finally calm enough to address at least part of the problem.
This flight to YouTube is not generally enough to calm me down completely, but it does allow me to cope, repeatedly, as I’m dealing with the aftermath of whatever the latest personal fuck-up has been.
Also, I tend to avoid crying as much as possible. I am a person who cries very easily, no matter what the emotion. I go to extraordinary lengths to avoid crying, though, because in public, I don’t want to seem weak or unprofessional, but even in private, I will dig my nails into my palms to prevent myself from crying.
Crying takes a lot of energy. Crying makes me have to face my emotions. I am not generally in a mental space where I feel safe to face emotions. It’s not because my partner is not there for me. In fact, they’ve expressed to me on many occasions that I can cry on their shoulder any time and that they want to be there for me.
The problem is not them. The problem is that I can’t be there for myself.
So when we watch a movie or a TV show with tear-jerker moments, I grab their hand and squeeze hard, or dig my nails into my palms. They know that I’m having a hard time, but they don’t push me.
Start Healing Yourself
Of course, I’m no longer a child, and haven’t been for several decades. I know I’m safe from the depredations of my parents, but I still don’t feel 100% safe. I’m safe from them, but I’m still not safe from my partner’s anger, when I’ve done something, or failed to do something, and that upsets them.
I’m not safe from consequences of my actions or inactions. Will I be abused because I’ve done something bad, or failed to do something required? Well, probably not, but I still get that dump of adrenaline that says “Run away!”
I have tried several ways, recently, of calming myself down after a crisis has made itself known. I still haven’t found anything that is completely reliable, and often when a crisis strikes I’m in such a bad way that it would probably normally take quite a lot to calm anyone.
I try rhythmic breathing. I try humming monotonically and quietly.
I don’t feel like I can try a walk because in these times of crisis, I don’t feel deserving of a walk.
Instead, I distract myself and I think manically of ways to resolve the crisis.
I shut myself away, even from my partner.
I run in all directions at once.
Healing Strategy: Mindfulness of the Here and Now
I have tried mentally acknowledging to myself that I am safe; however, it’s hard to believe that I am safe when I fear that the roof over my head is in jeopardy. I am not convinced that my housing is safe. My partner owns the house we live in, and repeatedly reminds me that it is their house, not mine, so I feel like I am not secure in my place to live.
Schwartz says we need to ensure that we are safe. I’m not sure how to do that, outside of finding some way to earn some money. I work for my partner, but they don’t pay me. They can’t afford to pay me. And they think that since I live in their house for free, that should be sufficient payment.
This, of course, causes me a great deal of stress and anxiety and a fair amount of fear.
Regardless, there is probably some good I can extract from the steps that Schwartz lays out.
- Take a look around and notice details. Is there anything you can see that can remind you you’re safe? Note the physical sensations caused by moving your head and eyes to observe around you.
- Say out loud “I am safe” or “I am ok.”
- Touch your arms with your other hand, one after the other. Pay attention to the physical sensations when you do this.
- Take a sip of something. Swish the liquid around in your mouth. Pay attention to the taste and temperature and to the feel of the inside of your mouth against your tongue.
- Belly breathe. Notice sensations.
She says there are many other ways to increase mindfulness, including listening to music or observing and touching objects. The idea is to employ your senses in the here and now to bring your attention to the current time and place.
Lisa
Lisa is a caretaker. She pushes her own needs away in favor of taking care of others. I, too, have this problem. I take care of my partner. I take care of my friends. I rarely take care of myself.
Healing Strategy: Self-Awareness of Avoidance Behaviors
Schwartz wants us to take an honest look at our own avoidance nonjudgmentally. She has a list of common avoidance behaviors. I’ll list here the ones that are relevant to me.
- Staying away from people or places
- Isolating myself
- Overeating (or eating the wrong things) when I’m emotional (or stressed or anxious)
- Spending hours watching videos
- Failing to admit to myself that I was (or may currently be) abused or neglected
- Spending so much time taking care of others that I neglect myself
- Wanting to control myself or others
- Being a perfectionist
- Burying myself in work so I don’t have to feel
- Relying on thinking to avoid feeling
- Being numb or dissociating.
We’re supposed to reflect on how these behaviors might have begun. I think I’ll defer this to another time.
Healing Strategy: Develop Healthy Distractions
Wait, what? There are healthy distractions?!?
Ok, so it’s possible that using wholesome YouTube in the way that I do is a healthy coping mechanism. It helps me to calm myself long enough to get something accomplished. And my therapist said it’s ok. So yeah, I guess that’s a good one.
When I’m in the midst of a meltdown, my attention span is not long enough to listen to or read a book, even an old favorite, but I do read regularly. It gets me out of my head, which is good for me.
I don’t listen to music as often as I would like because I’m often busy, and music, even instrumental music, can be distracting to me. I do want to start listening to music more often, though.
I should also start walking on a regular basis. Not long. Maybe start with five minutes at a time. I am starting to swim again, which is also good for me, but I can’t hop in the pool to do a few laps at the drop of a hat. I can, however, go for a short walk.
How Am I Doing?
I don’t really know, right now. I’m feeling kind of frustrated by my seeming inability to move forward or to keep up new habits that I like and that are good for me. Hopefully over the coming months this will improve.
Healing Strategy: Peaceful Place Visualization
I like the ocean and the mountains. I’ve always felt at peace in these places. I should develop a visualization or two around these places.