Tag: PTSD

On waiting for remission…

Published on by Nour Loutfy2 Comments

Waiting sucks

Waiting sucks. Whether waiting for a bus; your turn in a public restroom; your birthday present; your dessert in a restaurant; or even waiting for yourself to finally fall sleep. Waiting sucks when you did well, when you didn’t do well, or when you didn’t do anything at all.

Waiting is seen essentially as a waste of time. It is the place between two radically different states. Waiting is ambiguous, monotone, and yet interesting,..

The interesting stuff lies between where you were before needing to wait and where you will be after waiting is over. It is like a twilight zone, where we discover things we didn’t know before…

How can waiting be active ?

If waiting were passive, life would be so dull. We wait all life long for things to happen: some of them we want and some we are very keen to avoid. We learn to wait as soon as we are born. We wait to be fed, cleaned and cuddled. We even wait to die…

Waiting changes as we grow. We discover sooner or later that our needs and wants are not instantly met by the world.

Frustration builds up as we face negative experiences where waiting was not just long, but led to an undesirable outcome. We resort to prayer, to superstition, to therapy and sometimes we end up in depression; waiting.

Waiting and expectation go hand in hand. The higher the stakes, the higher is the expectation associated with waiting. Waiting for a bus is unlike waiting for remission. The first is bound to happen (the bus will eventually come no matter how late). Yet, some other waiting is tricky. What happens when you wait for remission? For better health? For a better future? For a full life?

What to do while waiting other than waiting? What can be done before waiting to make waiting more bearable? What can be done to make waiting matter, so that it makes sense?

How can we wait for remission?

I have learned so far that waiting for remission boils down to two main factors. The first, is wanting to get better. (For the sake of simplifying things, we will assume that we actually and truly want to get better). Interestingly, the second factor is accepting not getting better.

It was so confusing to me. The more I wanted to get better, the more frustrated I became. After being frustrated waiting, I gave up hope, which definitely didn’t make waiting any easier or quicker.

Waiting is a skill that sooner or later we better learn to master, especially if we are waiting for something of such great value such as remission.

We could complain or wait in silence, while we are shattered internally with each second bringing us closer to the end of a bottomless void. We can swim in the darkness and sink deeper as the pain never lessens. This would not mean that we are accepting this reality, but rather that we give up. We give up hope, we can’t see any other possible scenario. This is it. And if this is the case, remission will never happen.

Yet, if we surrender, maybe things could change. We surrender to and accept the pain, the guilt, the remorse, the shame, the pity, the ugliness of it all. We accept the status quo while knowing that nothing stays the same forever. We need to know this in on our bones. Like seriously know that nothing ever stays the same forever. It is not over, until it is over. Repeat it, feel it, believe it, know it.

We should never give up hoping to get better. I always say, if I feel better for a minute now, next time I will feel better for two minutes, then three, then an hour and so on. Yes I will get worse, but then I will get better again. Hope cannot be taken out of a person unless they decide to give up. One single minute lived without pain, means more minutes will come. Just wait.

Bottom line

Wait actively. Listen to your soul and body. Don’t undermine your thoughts. You are still creative even if life is putting you down. You still have a mind, even if you are drugged down by the doctors. You know what it is that is really wrong with you. Better still, you surely know what is really good with you. Yes, there is plenty. You are just looking the other way.

Wait while searching. Dig deep, and take it step by step. Work on everything you know how to solve, and leave the rest to time. Work it like a puzzle. Your life is a giant Lego. Do the easy parts first. No one will fix you. You need to fix yourself. There is no perfect scenario. Life is not black or white. Accept being in the grey zone.

Make your bed, shower and eat real food. You can do that. Do your laundry and get a hair cut. Get back to this thing you used to like before. Was it writing , painting, composing, gardening? Pick up something you never had the chance to do before, but always wanted to learn or do. Make waiting count.

Don’t be the same person once waiting is over. You would have lost double the time. Either way you have nothing to lose.

The goal is to rediscover yourself beyond your illness. There is an “I” behind the illness. You are not the illness. Who is it who is waiting for remission? What will s/he do if they were not sick this very second? What would have happened if they hadn’t fallen sick? What is this bloody and agonising state trying to tell me?

Don’t wait for an answer. You already know it.

Think. Cry. Fall. Shout. Rise. Create. Pray. Write. Paint. Run. Sing. Build. Forgive. Love. HEAL

Make every second waiting count.

Forgiveness and recovery

Published on by Nour Loutfy1 Comment

The blog has shifted gears. My writings were sometimes exercises of introspection – reflecting my state of mind during my struggle with depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. Other times, I would write about what I thought was wrong with the medical system as it stands today; not seeing the person as a whole or just silencing and over drugging the mentally ill till they slowly lose themselves in an array of side effects and endless adjustments of dosages. I also wrote about misdiagnosis and malpractice, and how our lives could change just by being given one very wrong label or another.

In my last few posts I started sharing with you the lessons taken home. There is no pretentiousness or ‘I know better’ in my words. I try to repeat this one way or another because it is so important!

So here goes…

Today I want to talk to you about a pivotal moment in my recovery.

You know getting better is not linear. If anyone tells you so, then they either don’t know what they are talking about, or they are simply really very optimistic, or just they were super lucky and are the 0.01%.

Recovery has so many elements. Naive, I used to think about it like a finish line. It was actually more of a destination, and to get there you have to take a bumpy ride.

To recover, I of course needed be on the right medication. I was supposed to find stability. Yes little by little I didn’t have anymore mood swings. A small relapse here, a little adjustment there…

I relate to this as trivial compared to what I went through. I didn’t feel depressed or have this huge void eating me up; true. Yet, I felt surprisingly guilty. Probably not surprisingly.

I was not able to feel relief. Why aren’t you happy now? Good question! I was faced with two major problems.

One: the aftermath of what ‘I have done’ to my family witnessing all this suffering. Two: the immense fear of this ordeal happening again. Three: I know I said two but I also had memory issues, self-confidence issues, brain fog, and 20 plus kilograms to lose to fit in my old socks because of all the meds I was taking before finding the right treatment, tapper off a few others, and of course I had to reintegrate into society.

After spending time feeling stagnant in these negative thoughts, I talked to my psychiatrist who suggested that these signs are very well similar to those of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). In brief: the experience of illness is so intense that in itself it becomes traumatic and creates guilt, fear and flashbacks. Are you familiar?

He suggested I undergo a few sessions of EMDR – Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing therapy. It is non invasive, simple and fast method of psychotherapy. I was skeptical at first but I tried and It worked really well on my trauma. Highly recommend it if you find a qualified therapist.

Relief was not immediate. But at the time I decided that I needed to open a new chapter in my life if I am to recover. Again this does not happen over night. It is a process. You plant the seed.

How can I ask those around me to forget what happened if I am constantly thinking about it? How can I be ‘normal’ if I am living every moment waiting for another attack? How can I expect to be ‘forgiven’ if I cannot forgive myself? 

Forgiveness was the magic word. And trust me it is everything but cliché.

I had no choice. I internalized this and repeated it to myself for the millionth time. Mental illness could happen to anyone at anytime. Mental illness is not a choice. Mental illness teaches you how to be human and humane. This experience showed us all how we are connected and how we love one another and how blessed I am to have my family and loved ones. They also used to tell me the same, but you know guilt…

Before all this, I had to forgive myself for the pain I went through. I decided that I will allow myself the suffering that passed and say it is ok. I don’t judge you. You were hurting and you are fine now. Again, you water the seed.

I gave myself a pat on the back and a big hug for the long road travelled and I said it is ok. I looked at all the things I have learned. How strong I have become. How loved and cared for I was and how things could have turned much much worse.

I looked at my family hoping day in day out that what dwells inside my soul will reflect into my behavior. Little by little, things began to change, and a new normal appeared.

The seed grows into a plant.

My dear reader I decided to be kind to myself because I had suffered enough and I invite you to do the same even if you are not in recovery, or even if you are not mentally ill. We have all suffered one way or another. We deserve to live guilt-free.

Allow yourself the gains you have achieved though little they may seem; for today is a good day and we only hope we replenish the well a little more tomorrow.