Trauma is trauma...

Yesterday I was a bit productive, between making caramels to take to the doctors' offices over the next two weeks, making hummus, brewing tea, and watering the plants wintering in the solarium.  Of course, tried to juggle a phone call whilst making the caramels, which resulted in the cream spilling over, a colossal burnt mess, frantic addition of cream to make up for the loss, and a slow, worrisome set in the end product.

Today, I had a doctor's visit, a post office stop, and a prescription pick-up.  On top of that, I am getting ready for mother's house cleaning treat again on the morrow.  As I did last time, I am working on laundry, the dishwasher is running, and I set out fresh bedding.  I like the idea of having nothing that needs doing after the maids leave so that I can just bask in a clean house.  I am looking forward to having the kitchen floor super clean since I spend so my time lying on it, riding waves of nausea.

I am often still battling nausea when I get up to feed Amos in the morning.  I stumble out of bed for fresh ice packs.  He leaps off the bed and frolics downstairs.  I moan and groan and pour food in the bowl.  Amos wags his tail and spins in happy circles.  I lie down and watch him scarf up his food.  Sometimes we stay down there for a while, but, fully sated, Amos just curls up next to me and waits.  It sure is great, though, when the floor is clean, clean, clean!

Last time, I also set a fire so that it was all ready to light, but that left a load of wood that the maids kept pushing around.  So, before I go to bed, I will clean up the ash, but wait to bring in wood.

I was so very nervous about the second visit with the new GP, worried that all the hassle with my prescriptions meant that I had already used up all my good will from her staff.  Really worried.  Plus, she told me that she would like to work through things a few at a time with repeated visits until I feel more looked after, having been without a GP for a while, and until she understands my condition better ... what it looks like to me.

She said to start with one or two things, but I've had so much I've been waiting to discuss, I couldn't decide.  What's a gal to do?  Create a summary sheet and ask the doctor to pick!  Actually, she went with my top item:  green and bloody nasal discharge.  Ick, I know.  But I have been battling this since November 2014 when I had that bad cold.  I have long LONG thought that I had a sinus infection but my old GP said it was nasal allergies and prescribed fluticasone.  That does help me breath better, but I blow crap out my sinus, from up in my head, all day, every day.

Well, the upside is that I (eventually) came home from my outing with three weeks worth of strong antibiotics!  Yes, I have a sinus infection and probably have had one since then.  I might, having had some relief after the pacemaker surgery, gotten a bit better from those two days of antibiotics, but I most definitely have one now.  I am not sure I have ever picked up a prescription more gladly, more excitedly.

Anyway, I've been busy.
But I have also been thinking.

I still do not know how to write about Chapter Three of Dr. Brown's research on shame.  I have been thinking especially about something that my counselor highlighted.  [We exchange highlights each week.]  I want to type it all out later, but the gist is that the brain stores trauma as trauma; it does not differentiate between a small (or lesser) or large (or greater) trauma.

I know a pastor whose daughter was abused by a neighbor.  His response was that he was thankful that it was only molestation, not rape.  Only is a Four Letter Word when it comes to sexual abuse/sexual assault.  Yes, it is good that his daughter did not have to endure the trauma of rape, but that does not make her assault any less traumatic as far as the brain is concerned.  It was/is trauma.

Minimizing trauma is something I have experience and, subsequently visited upon myself.  That is something I am learning in counseling ... to not minimize.  Mostly, I am observing the counselor not minimize, but I am trying to learn.

The information about how the brain stores trauma was before and aft the bit on the page that leapt out at me:

"After studying Dr. Uram's work, I believe it's possible that many of our early shame experiences, especially with parents and caregivers, were stored in our brains as traumas." (I Thought It Was Just Me [But It Wasn't], p. 89).

That has given me pause.