PTSD: “I can’t get these thoughts out of my head”

If you’re getting sucked into a bad memory, here are some strategies that I have shared previously. If you’re finding yourself stuck going over something unpleasant in your head – this post is for you.

Trying to get yourself to not think about something is tricky, because our brain doesn’t know how to “not”.

For example: try NOT to think of a white bear. So, try NOT to picture a polar bear, and try NOT to remember that commercial they had at Christmas a couple of years ago, with the polar bears playing on the icebergs.

…And what happens? Yeah – you can’t get them out of your head, because you told yourself NOT to think of them.

Unpleasant memories are a lot like that: the harder you try not to think of them, the more you get stuck on them.

There are a couple of tricks that might help: the most common strategy is to try to keep busy as a distraction. This works to some degree, but can be really exhausting.

There are also a couple of visualization exercises that will help with a fair bit of practice.

The first one is called a container. Visualize a container, big enough and strong enough to hold the things that you want to get out of your head. Visualize putting those things in the container, and locking the container tightly so that nothing can get out. Finally, visualize putting the container somewhere very far away – like the bottom of the ocean – where those thoughts can’t touch you. Then, any time that one of those thoughts comes up – picture putting it in the container, and putting the container far away.

Another visualization exercise works like this: when an unpleasant thought starts playing like a movie in your head, imagine taking a step back to get a wider viewpoint. Imagine seeing that thought as if it were a movie on a television. Now imagine picking up the remote control, and switching the channel. What would you like to watch instead? A favourite scene from a movie that you like? A cooking, travel, or decorating show? Maybe a sport you really like watching? It doesn’t matter what you choose, so long as it’s pleasant and gives you a chance to “switch the channel” that’s playing in your head.

It’s not magic, and it’ll take a bit of practice – but try these strategies, and see if they help.

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

 

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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PTSD, Guilt, and Shame

Whether the trauma is something that happened to you, or whether it was something you witnessed and were unable to stop – feelings of guilt and shame are a very common reaction. Often, you end up going over and over in your head what you could/should/would have done differently, endlessly punishing yourself for whatever you did or didn’t do.

…Ever wonder why that is?

Well – I have an answer for you.

I’ve written previous posts about how PTSD is based on a survival reflex going awry (and if you’ve missed those, go to the “start here” button at the top of the page – they’re all there and you can catch up).

Basically – PTSD is based on a survival reflex. When something bad happens, your survival reflex kicks in to figure out, “How can I protect myself from going through something like this again?” That’s what your survival reflex is supposed to do – figure out how to keep you safe.

…The problem is, sometimes you did nothing wrong. Sometimes, there’s nothing you could have done differently. The reality is that the world is sometimes unpredictable, bad things sometimes happen to good people, and sometimes, we don’t have control over our circumstances.

Unfortunately, our survival reflex simply isn’t designed to understand any of that – it has one job, and that is to keep us out of harm’s way. When it can’t, it assumes that we did something wrong and we should have done something different – so, it sends our mind in relentless circles of should/could/would haves, and fills us up with feelings of guilt and shame over whatever actions we took.

Feelings don’t create facts; if they did, then everybody buying a lotto ticket because they’re feeling lucky would be a millionaire.

So – just because your survival reflex makes you feel guilt and shame, doesn’t actually mean that you did anything wrong. Those feelings, as intense as they sometimes are – those feelings are simply a byproduct of how reflex works. Your survival reflex is trying to make sense of what happened. It’s trying to do its job and protect you, and it’s getting stuck.

Do your best to keep that in mind; it’ll help to put the guilt and shame in perspective.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

 

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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Pushing People Away, Part 3

I’ve posted before about why we tend to push people away when we need them the most, here. More recently, I also wrote about how childhood trauma can get in the way of building healthy relationships as an adult, here.

This time, I’d like to try and explain to your loved ones why you might seem to be pushing them away.

Imagine the sound of a fire alarm, screaming so loud your ears are ringing and your whole body is vibrating from the sound. Now imagine that it’s stuck inside your head, so you can’t shut it off, and you can’t get away from it. You’re stuck with it, and it’s driving you bananas.

But your spouse can’t hear it. So, your spouse wants to ask about your day, what you want for dinner, did you pick up the dry cleaning. The kids want to play.

When PTSD acts up, it fills your head with so much stuff that it might as well be a screaming fire alarm in your head. When that happens, all of your energy goes into just trying to shut your head off. You don’t want to smile, make conversation, or even just put up with people being around. It all just feels like more noise, and you can’t bear it. You just want everyone to go away.

To your loved ones, you might come across as cold, distant, callous, and indifferent. They might wonder what they did, and why you seem so angry. Often loved ones react by trying to help or ask questions, because they don’t understand that they didn’t do anything wrong, and you just need to zone out to try to quiet your head.

So, how do you cope?

You remind yourself that it’s not your fault: you’re not trying to be mean, you’re just overwhelmed because of all the noise inside your head.

You share this post with them, to help them understand that it’s also not their fault, and pushing them away is not a reaction to anything that they did.

And – you work hard at trying to practice relaxation, as best as you can, every day. That’s your key to learning to slowly turn down the fire alarm in your head. It’ll take time and hard work – but you’ll get there.

MCC1

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by M & C Charbonneau, and I’d like to thank them for generously allowing me to use their work. Please do not copy content, including photographs, from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Suicide is Not Selfish, and It Is Not a Choice

HEADS UP, folks. If you’re struggling with the death of someone you care about, this post will be hard to read. But if you’re up to it, bear with me, because this is important.

When you lose a loved one to suicide, you go through a whole range of really intense emotions. There’s disbelief, because often, they seemed to have it all together and you never knew how much they were suffering. There’s sadness, and guilt, and lots of wondering if there was some way you should have known, something you should have done, or said, or… Prevented this tragedy somehow.

And, often, there is anger, even rage. We think: how could they do that to their family???

It feels like such a selfish choice.

It feels that way, but it’s actually neither selfish, nor a choice.

Imagine you go to your favourite restaurant. You’re hungry, you’re not on any kind of diet, and you don’t have food allergies. You have money just burning a hole in your pocket. When you order your meal, you have a choice: there’s a whole menu full of options, and you can have any of them.

Being selfish also requires a choice: imagine a baby crying because its diaper needs to be changed. If the baby had the choice of learning, right now, how to walk and go use the toilet, then choosing to use the diaper instead, and inconveniencing a caregiver who then needs to change that diaper, would be selfish. But a baby doesn’t have a choice. It’s not selfish; it’s a baby. It doesn’t have any other options.

Suicide is not a choice.

It’s sort of like this: Depression, despair, hopelessness, and isolation form an ocean around you. The waters get rough. You do your best to keep your head above the water, but it feels like you’ve got two broken arms and two broken legs as you helplesslessly, painfully try to swim.

And sometimes, despite your best efforts to keep swimming, you just… drown.

That’s what suicide is.

Use this information – to help to quiet your anger at the person whom you’ve lost, and also, to quiet the second-guessing at what more you could have done.

MC CHarb 3

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by M & C Charbonneau, and I’d like to thank them for generously allowing me to use their work. Please do not copy content, including photographs, from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Why Do I Push People Away, Part 2

A while back, I wrote about how childhood experiences can impact our ability to cope with stressful events later in life.

Today, I’d like to tell you more about how childhood trauma can impact our relationships in adulthood.

In a healthy childhood, caregivers are reasonable and predictable. Kids get time-out or lose privileges for misbehaving. When they behave well, they get praised or rewarded. Over time, they learn that their actions impact their environment, and that relationships are relatively stable: mom and dad will always love you, but they’ll take away the Xbox if you don’t stop being mean to your little brother.

Kids in abusive homes learn a very different lesson: for them, whether people are nice or mean often has nothing to do with how they behaved: it might be cruel and random, or be based on things the child can’t control: “If Dad gets drunk, he’ll probably beat me”.

Having grown up in this kind of environment, building healthy adult relationships can be challenging. You might see others as either ally or enemy, and even a small misstep might make someone feel like an “enemy”. It can be especially hard to take criticism, which can feel like a betrayal.

People who have these traits tend to be lonely – they long to be close to someone, but they usually break off relationships at the slightest sign of trouble.

If this sounds familiar, a first step is to understand that this pattern is based on an unrealistic expectation: “A real friend would never do anything to make me feel uncomfortable”. That just can’t be true: a real friend is a human who will sometimes goof up by accident. Also, a real friend is someone who might sometimes make you feel uncomfortable because they care: for example, he or she might tell you that you’ve got something in your teeth or your fly is undone, because they care enough to let you know so you can fix it before you make a fool of yourself.

So, you can start the healing process by understanding where this tendency comes from, and by reminding yourself to understand that a real friend is one who is not perfect, and will sometimes disappoint us.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

 

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PTSD: Why It’s so Hard to Talk To Your Loved Ones

One of the worst things about PTSD is how it cuts you off from those who want to be there for you: your spouse, and closest friends and family.

When you’re suffering, your loved ones want to help. They might ask what’s wrong. You know they’re trying to help… Only, you feel like you can’t talk to them.

Your loved ones can’t understand why you won’t talk about it. They might feel shut out and rejected; their feelings might be hurt that you won’t let them be there for you. And that might make you feel guilty, which doesn’t help: now you’re feeling guilty on top of suffering, and your loved one is feeling rejected and helpless. Yikes!

…If this scenario sounds familiar to you, then I invite you to read this post, and then share it with your loved one. Hopefully, it’ll help both of you understand what’s going on and why. And it’ll help both of you feel better.

A big piece of PTSD is avoidance. Basically, that means even thinking about “that stuff” is about as easy as staring directly into the sun without squinting: just like the glare of the sun, the glare of your feelings around the trauma is too intense. It’s not that you’re trying to shut out your loved one; first and foremost you’re trying to shut yourself out, because thinking about your trauma just feels so awful.

Now, add to the pain of thinking about the trauma, the idea of sharing it with your loved one. That takes it to a whole new level: it feels like taking your most horrible, painful thoughts and feelings, and inflicting them on someone you care about. You can’t bring yourself to do it because you can’t bear to even think about that stuff, can’t bear to hurt them, and can’t bear to watch how it hurts them to know what happened to you.

It’s not a choice, it’s a symptom. So, stop beating up on yourself about it – the shame and guilt just makes you feel worse for something you can’t control right now. Instead tell your loved one something like, “Thank you for caring about me. Your support means a lot. I wish I could talk to you about it, but right now I just can’t. Even thinking about it to myself is too much.”

If you’re the loved one on the other end of this, understand that it can be too painful for the person with PTSD to talk about their trauma. It’s not a choice; it’s not a reflection of how much they trust you, so please don’t make it a test of your relationship. Know that if they could, they would tell you. Let them know that you support them, and ask how you can be helpful. Realize that sometimes, being helpful might mean backing off, or helping them distract from their feelings.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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The Trouble with Positive Thinking

Today I’d like to talk to you about positive thinking. It’s a popular concept, right? You hear about it all the time: “Just think positive!” It’s supposed to make you feel better and get you out of a rut if you’re feeling stuck.

Well – it’s not quite that simple. And sometimes, “just thinking positive” is not actually a good thing. Let me try to explain that with an example.

 

When you’re feeling concerned about something, that nagging ‘what-if’ experience is a bit like fearing that there might be a grizzly bear standing behind you. “Thinking positive” is like telling yourself to ignore the possibility of A BEAR, and just look at the pretty meadow in front of you.

…First of all, it doesn’t work. It’s a BEAR. Expecting yourself to ignore your fear under these circumstances is ridiculous!!! You can’t get your mind off the bear, no matter how hard you try to make yourself think of the meadow instead. And when you can’t do it, you feel like a failure. So now, you’re feeling scared of the bear, pressured to not feel scared of the bear, and ashamed that you can’t stop feeling scared of the bear. Gee, that’s a much bigger mess than just being scared of the bear, now isn’t it?

…Second – trying to force the bear out of your mind is exhausting. It takes up all of your energy, and makes it hard to focus on anything else.

…And third – it’s basically avoidance. Avoidance feeds the fear, and keeps it growing.

So – what can you do instead?

Well – I’m guessing that most of your concerns are a little more complicated than imaginary bears. You can’t just make the concern go away by checking behind you or under the bed.

Start by acknowledging your feeling of fear. Then, ask yourself – what kind of a fear is it?

If it’s a “what-if” that you’re afraid of, then mindfulness is a tool that might help you to re-focus your energy away from the fear of a potential future event that hasn’t happened yet, andback onto the present.

If your fear is a reaction to something that is really happening, remind yourself that feelings are natural, healthy reactions to events. It’s understandable and human to feel that way. Then, at least you aren’t piling shame and guilt on top of the worrying. That doesn’t fix whatever you’re worried about, but at least it frees up some mental space for problem-solving…

Blog from bro

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by Wojtek Rajski, and I’d like to thank him for generously allowing me to use his work. Please do not copy content, including photographs, from Coming Back Home without permission.

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Your Love-Hate Relationship with your Anxiety

In past posts, I’ve talked about relaxation – how important it is; how and why to relax; when to do it. For some people, the basic information on when, how, and why is all they need to start a habit of healthy mental hygiene.

If you’re thinking, “good for those people”, then this post is for you.

When anxiety has been a big part of your life for a long time, you and your anxiety become so tangled up in each other that it gets hard to imagine yourself without it. You develop a love-hate relationship with your anxiety:

In many ways, you see your anxiety as a hindrance: it prevents you from being able to sleep; it turns your stomach inside out when you try to eat; it makes you clench your jaw and grind your teeth. You’re exhausted and in pain, and a part of you is so sick of your anxiety that you just want to get rid of it.

On the other hand, you might feel like there were times in your life when being on high alert saved your bacon (or times when you got hurt that you blame on not being alert enough). So, a part of you may feel like your anxiety is an asset that keeps you safe, and just the thought of letting it go might make you feel exposed and vulnerable to danger.

If this is you, then step #1 is to stop thinking of it as all-or-nothing. Start thinking of your anxiety on a scale of 0-10, with 0 being none and 10 being the worst possible anxiety. Where on this scale might you be on a typical day?

Try to imagine turning the dial back by just a smidge – maybe 1/4 of a point, or even less if that seems like too much. You’re still alert enough to react quickly when necessary, but you’re starting to very gently balance that, so you can work towards being able to sleep better and have less pain.

The idea is to very slowly dial back your anxiety, one tiny bit at a time, and help yourself learn to tolerate calm. Gradually, you will teach yourself that you don’t need to be wound so tight to stay alert and keep yourself safe.

Simple, right? Yeah, but simple and easy are two very different things… Be patient with yourself. And if you have trouble doing it all alone – please seek out a professional to help you.

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I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is the copyrighted property of Larry M. Jaipaul; please do not copy images without permission.

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Getting through November 11th: A brief how-to guide

Note to my American Readers: In Canada, November 11th is Remembrance Day. It’s a bit like Memorial Day, but without the mattress sales or backyard cookouts; it’s a somber occasion that can be challenging to cope with. 

Hi, everyone!

With less than a week to go before Remembrance Day, some of you might be looking at the calendar and hearing that music from JAWS playing in the back of your head.

I know – you don’t want to think about it. But, not thinking about it means you rob yourself of the opportunity to prepare.

Here’s a few ideas for how to get through it:

Start with a review of what you did last year. Who did you spend the day with? What did you do? What parts of that worked, and what parts need improving? This is your best starting point for getting a sense of what you need: if you spent the day with friends but felt exhausted by the end, then perhaps you need some more time to yourself. If you were by yourself but felt isolated, then consider spending part of the day with people.

This is going to sound cheesy, but: give yourself permission to feel. Military culture means that you expect yourself to be this unwavering wall of steel, where nothing gets under your skin. Well – this is a day that’s supposed to get under your skin, because you care.

So – this year, instead of telling yourself to suck it up harder and make sure you don’t choke up or let a tear slip out – tell yourself something like this: “Hey, you know what? This day is to remember all the sacrifices. Yeah, I’m going to get choked up – and if anyone’s got a problem with that, then they need to get their compassion chip adjusted!!!”

That way, you don’t have to worry about getting emotional – it takes a lot of pressure off of yourself, and might make it easier to get through the day.

 

Now – that’s all pretty light and fluffy so far, right? Heads up – this next part digs deeper, so give yourself some time to read it in a quiet space. 

 

Lots of people struggle with a sense of guilt and shame about fallen comrades, because you lived and they didn’t so, somehow, your brain twists this into being all your fault. Maybe you even realize that these feelings don’t make logical sense, and you kick yourself to stop feeling this way but can’t let it go. That makes getting through this day particularly tricky.

If this is you, then here’s a tough question to ask yourself: what are you doing to remember and honour the fallen today… and what are you doing just to punish yourself for having lived?

There’s a difference. If it feels like you’re punishing yourself, then you’re not genuinely honouring anyone.

So – switch gears. Work hard to remember one happy memory about your friend. Try to remember it in as much detail as you can. Do your best smile like you mean it. Spend a little less time and energy on punishing yourself.

There – you’ve just honoured and remembered them. Well done.

 

MCC12

Please feel free to share this post, and any other on this blog, with anyone who might benefit.

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by M & C Charbonneau, and I’d like to thank them for generously allowing me to use their work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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“Others have it so much worse than me”

The title of today’s post is the bane of my existence. Seriously – if only we could give up those words, the world would be a healthier, happier place.

I hear some version of it every day.

Usually, it goes like this: something happens, and you feel sadness, disappointment, frustration. And then…

“…I shouldn’t feel that way, because others have it so much worse than me.”

Well – you’re half right. The world is full of people who have it worse than you: if you’re reading this, then you have access to the internet. You probably also have other luxuries, like running water, electricity, food, and shoes. Other people don’t, and that’s awful.

But… How exactly are you helping them by laying the guilt on yourself?

Think about it: if you’re feeling sad, frustrated, nervous, or whatever, you are reacting to something, and that emotion is real. Sure, yours may be smaller than somebody else’s, but it is no less real.

Look at it another way: say you’re out in the sun on a really hot day. You get a little sweaty. Would you feel guilty for sweating, because other people live in the tropics or the desert and they have it so much hotter and you?

… Yeah. Probably not.

Feelings are a natural, reflex reaction to what happens. We don’t choose to feel them – if we did, no one would choose to feel jealous, disappointed, or sad, because it’s not enjoyable. Feelings are reactions – same as sweating is a reaction to being too warm. We cannot stop or control them.

If we were able to just accept our feelings, we’d be much happier (this is why I talk about mindfulness).

Unfortunately, we usually judge ourselves for having feelings: feeling guilty for being sad because “others have it so much worse than me”. Feeling ashamed for being scared, frustrated, angry, whatever.

Sure, sometimes your feelings are as inconvenient or unpleasant as bad breath, body odour, or pimples. But like it or not, your feelings are real.  Feeling guilt or shame about them doesn’t make them go away, it just makes you feel miserable.

try out your new mindfulness skills. Give yourself permission to feel. Observe your feelings, without judging them. If you catch yourself thinking stuff like, “Isn’t that horrible? What kind of a person would feel that way?”, tell that judging voice that a healthy person would feel that way – because having real feelings without guilt or self-judgment is a healthy thing to do.

It won’t be easy at first – you might catch yourself criticizing and judging a LOT.

Don’t give up – keep trying!!! It will get easier with practice, and it will make a difference.

MCC8

I’d love to have you share your thoughts, comments, and questions. If you do post a comment, please don’t give specific details of your trauma – these may be triggering to another reader. If you’d like to offer criticism, I’ll take it – I know I’m not perfect, and I’m always willing to learn. If you do offer criticism though, I’d really appreciate it if you could do so constructively (ie., no name-calling, please). Thanks…

You can find me on Twitter and on Facebook.

~ Dr. Dee Rajska, C. Psych.

*Fine print: Please feel free to share the link to this blog wherever you think it might be helpful! Reading this blog is a good start, but it’s no substitute for professional help. It takes a different kind of courage to admit to yourself that you’re struggling. PTSD is not a sign of failure – it’s a sign that you’ve been through a lot, and have tried to stay strong for too long. If you need help – you’re in some pretty great company. Reach out, and give yourself a chance to feel better.

**Really fine print: The content of Coming Back Home is copyrighted; please feel free to share the link, but do not copy and paste content. Unless otherwise noted, all original photography on Coming Back Home is copyrighted. The photo gracing today’s post was taken by M & C Charbonneau, and I’d like to thank them for generously allowing me to use their work. Please do not copy photographs from Coming Back Home without permission.

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