Freeflow Journaling Through a Flashback or Body Memory

I've found that sometimes there's no escaping from the grip of an intense memory (especially if it's sensory-related). Although deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, and meditation help a little bit sometimes, I've discovered that in some cases there's nothing I can do except "hold on for the ride."

One tool that I've found useful is what I call "freeflow journalling." I've heard others refer to it as "freewriting." Basically whatever thoughts, sensations, words, images, etc come to mind, I write it down -- without worrying about using proper punctuation & grammar (or even whether or not it "makes sense," for that matter).

There are several reasons I've found this helpful:

1) It gives me something to do while I "ride out" the traumatic memory.
2) It helps me sort through what happened afterward so that I can process it.
3) It sometimes lessens the severity of the physical aspect(s) of a flashback (maybe because my hands are "occupied").
Here's an example of a "freeform" journal entry that I wrote about a year ago when I was triggered by simply hearing someone say the phrase "Just take it all." (Note: I added some punctuation to make it SOMEWHAT easier to read.)

-----------------------------------

Just take it. Take it all. Stop your fucking complaining. Can't. No room. Stop. When will he come? Please God, No MORE! Arms over my head. Tight. Wrists. Pillow. Face. No air. Can't breathe. My duty. For my children. I can do this. I CAN'T do this. Lord, give me strength. Help me Jesus. Help me. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Burning. Enough. Searing. Too much. Go away. Arms numb. Make it STOP. So dizzy. Gonna throw up. So gross. Gagging. Salty. Over me. In me. Dribbling on me. Musky smell of him. Smothering me. Holding me. Fading. Drifting. YOU ARE MINE. I am his. I am gone. Disappeared. Where did I go? Darkness. Don't fight it. Let go. Wandering. Lights. Turning over. Spreading. Slipping. Again. Here we go again. No more. Please God, no more. Hurts so bad. Stretching. Splitting. Tearing. PLEASE let him be done. Mind over matter. He's spitting on me. Says that's good enough to go again. Mad at me. I'm dry he says. Better that way. Spits again. Good enough. It's NOT. Sticking. Pulling. Feels like he's tearing me apart. He likes it. Says I'm so good and tight. Every stroke burns. Agony. Searing pain. Deeper. Harder. Stabbing straight through me to the other side. ALMOST DONE, he says. STOP SHAKING. SHUT UP. Just a little more. Thank God. Hold on. Slipping away. Almost finished. Is he? COME AGAIN. I can't. Can I? Thrusting. Counting. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, fourteen, twenty, sixty nine, HUT. I miss playing football. Think about something else. Anything else. Deeper. Harder. He says he's done. Please be done. Finally. Breathing. Gulping air. Curl up in ball, knees to chin. Is he gone? Have to pee. No, I can't. Too late. Burning. He's still in me. GET IT OUT. But he's gone. Not there. Need ice. Ice. Find the ice. Make it stop. He's gone. Don't care where. Away from me. Quiet. Curl up in a ball. Make the pain go away. Lord, please... Why ... Why ... Why... Is this how it's supposed to be? Am I so weak that I cannot do this? Help me submit willingly, Lord. My body is not my own. It is his. Strengthen me, Father. Need to sing. It will be better one day. I just need to trust. Singing -"All the way my Savior leads me, what have I to ask beside? Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through life has been my Guide? Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in Him to dwell. For I know, whate'er befalls me, Jesus doeth all things well; for I know, whate'er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well." Tears. More tears. Why? What is wrong with me? Am I a horrible wife? I must be. This is my lot, my portion in life. I shouldn't let it upset me. God is in control, this is His will for my life, so who am I to question it or complain? Singing-"Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here. Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment, I've no cause for worry or for fear. He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best -- lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest" . . . God must approve of this, otherwise He wouldn't allow it. And it says there will be pain mixed with pleasure, so I guess I should be thankful even through the pain.  This must be what He wants for me, and I'll just have to accept it. Lord, help me accept it .... Singing-"Have Thine own way, Lord, have Thine own way. Thou art the potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still" ... I need to just yield. Lord, help me be still and yield. I confess my weakness, my frailty, my inability to properly submit to my husband as is my duty, my inadequacy as a mother, and my incompetancy as a housewife.  I humbly bow before you, Heavenly Father, and beg for your mercy. Haven't you punished me enough? I know I don't deserve to be rescued, but I cry out to you, oh Lord. Footsteps on the stairs. Coming up. It's him. He's back. Wants more. Shaking in puddle. Still singing. Want to believe. Hands trembling. Ice melting. In the doorway. His face. Sneering. Ridiculing. God won't hear me because I'm a slut. Worthless whore. Why am I singing to a God that can't hear me? Or doesn't care to listen? He throws hymnal against wall. Says we need to pray. Pray for my forgiveness. Pray that God will help me submit. Pray that God will forgive me for my weakness. That He will forgive me for my unwillingness. Pray that God will have mercy on me. Pray that God will make me a better wife. God help me take it all. Take it all. He wants more. No, Please, no more. Please, no. He says he'll be "nice" and only do my mouth. Please no. Please. On my chest, he's so heavy. Choking, gagging, suffocating. Bite down. Slap! Let go. Stop. No more. Finish yourself. You have two hands. Will I watch? Video. Awful & disgusting. Makes me watch. Hate porn. Skin crawling. Sick. He can't come. His arm is tired. YOU FINISH. My job. My responsibility. Take it all. Swallow. No. Sick. Gross. BASTARD! Gag. God help me. Darkness. Slime. Room spinning. Pillow soft. Quiet. Fading. Take it all. Just take it all.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - Don't let PTSD win!

PTSD ... I'm convinced that must stand for "Pretty Tough Shit Daily" ... the awful nightmares, crippling body memories, intrusive flashbacks, and all the other "fun stuff" that goes along with it.

I had a particularly challenging therapy session today, to the point that I was physically ill & vomiting afterwards. I crawled home so utterly exhausted that it was all I could do to fix supper for the kids before collapsing in bed, virtually catatonic and shaking. I just lay there in a trance for about an hour with the eternal "to do" list running through my mind, trying desperately to will myself to snap out of it, get up, and get busy. But it was no use. My body just wouldn't cooperate. I took a series of deep, cleansing breaths and tried to reground & center myself. Not helpful. Then, from somewhere deep inside, the thought came to me, "So, that's it then, huh? You're just going to let him win? You're just going to give up?"

Not in this lifetime! I drug myself out of bed and began washing the dishes & wiping off the kitchen counters. I checked the kids' backpacks, emptied their lunchboxes, vacuumed, and swept the floors. I unloaded & reloaded the dishwasher ... and was suddenly startled by the realization that I was ... HUNGRY. Had I eaten yet today? I realized I hadn't (aside from the snack I'd eaten during therapy, which I had promptly thrown up afterward). I poured myself a bowl of cereal, sloshed in some milk, and started devouring it. I was FAMISHED. I relished the texture of each bite as it crunched around my mouth, enjoying the wonderful sensation of being ALIVE.

"That's right," I thought to myself, "I'm HERE. I'm alive. I survived. I WON, and HE LOST!"

I may have nightmares again tonight. Such is life. But I'm not giving up. I can't. I won't. I didn't come this far to cower in fear because of a few pesky flashbacks & traumatic memories. And that's all they are -- MEMORIES! It's OVER! He can't hurt me anymore! And I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to let the things he said & did to me keep stealing the joy out of my life.

Walking into my daughter's room to tuck her in and seeing her lying there, sleeping so peacefully, I realized that there are some things in life that are worth fighting for.

Tomorrow is another day. I will wake up. I will put one foot in front of the other. I will go on living. I will go on healing. I will go on BEING. I will learn to let myself feel without fearing the feelings. I will learn to share without fearing rejection or judgment. I will learn to sleep without fearing the nightmares. And someday ... maybe ... I will learn to love again ... without worrying about being tormented & terrorized.

I can do this. I am NOT a quitter. I'm a survivor!

Is anybody there?

Is anybody there?
Does anybody care?
Or am I all alone here
In this frigid autumn air?
Does it even matter
That my soul is shattered
And I cannot find a place
To call my home?
Crickets chirping
Through the stillness,
Feel so lifeless
And alone.
So tired of holding on,
So tired of pretending
I am strong.
Have I been honest with myself,
Or lying all along
When I said that I could do this,
Said I thought I could get through this,
I could fix whatever's wrong?
But I can't.
I can't fix anything.
I am broken,
And just maybe,
He was right ...
A little crazy.
Nothing's really making sense,
I have no genuine defense.
I can't go on like this forever
Knowing that my life will never
Be the same.
So much guilt and worry ...
So much shame.
And for what?
Why do I beat myself up
For what I did not do,
For what I should have done,
For what I didn't know,
For why I could not go,
For why I had to stay,
It's all pointless anyway.
I smile and tell the world I'm fine.
I go to work, I pay my dues,
I tow the line.
But I'm not okay,
No matter what I say,
No matter how it seems
I'm in control.
I will never be okay,
I will never find a way
To be whole.
I am dead inside,
A shadow of a something,
A piece of useless nothing,
I have died.
And yet I go on living,
And somehow I keep on giving,
Thinking someday things will change,
That somehow I'll rearrange
The pieces into something new.
As if being free is something I can do.
But I can't.
I don't know how.
Couldn't then,
I don't know why I think
That I can now.
Gray and dark and dead is all I feel.
I try to hide away inside
From pain so real.
But I can't run away from it,
God help me,
Save me from this shit.
As if You hear,
As if You even have an ear.
Pick up the nearest spear
And run me through.
Please end the agony,
It's more than I can bear.
No one to share
This burden with,
No one to say they care.
Why do I bother
Even writing all this crap
No one will read?
As if getting this shit out
Will fill some need.
It's such a waste.
I'm just a vapor,
Just a hollow body
Taking up space.
I must be the lamest member
Of the human race.
I try to fill my days
With helping others.
Thinking somehow if I care,
They'll care for me.
It's all an illusion,
Thinking anyone would care;
Just a pathetic delusion,
Thinking there's a point
To opening my heart
To try to share.
So I'm brilliant,
No one cares.
So what if I've survived
To get nowhere.
I don't know which way to go
And this pain is all I know.
Just a blip outside the city,
I don't deserve your pity,
Or your time.
I'm not even fully certain
There's a reason or a rhyme
For breathing
Or believing.
But I see my children's faces
And I want them to go places
That I have never gone.
They will have to be the reason
I will live another season,
Must go on.
On to what?
On to where?
I don't know,
And you don't care.
No one does,
Not even me,
And it's very plain to see
I'm losing touch
With all the things I used to trust
And thought were real.
Don't want to feel.
Don't want to be.
Wish there was someone
I could hold,
That I could see,
Someone to tell me
Someday there will be an end
To all this sorrow,
Someone I could call a friend.
But why would anyone
Put up with who I am,
With where I've been,
When I don't even
Want to be here with myself?
Why would I wish this hell
On someone else?
Today is gone,
And with it went my will
To fight, to try, to be, to want,
And still ...
I cannot go
Because I know I cannot quit.
So somehow I'll keep wading
Through this shit
Until I find a way,
Until there comes a day
I can make some sense of it.

No Words

Once upon another time
A little girl began a rhyme.
What some might find a bit absurd --
Her poem did not contain a word.
She wrote with thoughts and dreams instead,
And all the hopes within her head.
For though she searched, she could not find
A way to say what was on her mind.

Throughout the years, though torn apart,
She kept it still within her heart --
That simple, silent, soothing song
That picked her up and spurred her on
To keep on trying, keep on fighting,
Keep on being, keep on writing.
Thought by thought and line by line,
She penned her way to another time.

Now looking back, she reads the ode,
And wanders down life's lonely road.
Some dreams were lost along the way.
She wonders why; it's hard to say.
Despite the innocence of youth,
The harsh reality of truth
Her longing for the dream denied,
And smothered all her screams inside.

How will this epic stanza end?
What lies ahead, around the bend?
Can she endure what e'er comes next
Within the lines of this, her text?
Perhaps tomorrow she'll be ready,
The load she carries not so heavy,
If only she could find a way
To speak the things she cannot say.

Domestic Abuse SURVIVOR

Coming up in a few weeks I'll be attending a special occasion for DV survivors -- a "reunion" of sorts. We all stand around and light a candle and have a moment of silence for those still in DV situations and those who "escaped" their abusive situations PERMANENTLY & were ushered into eternity. It's a time of solidarity, a time of solemnity, and yet, a time of HOPE when we see how many of us there are who DID found our way out.

I can't help but think differently things could have turned out for my children & I ... and how many opportunities we have now. This is the first day of the rest of my life! Although the things I've been through (and in some cases am still going through because of the insanity of the "justice" system) definitely changed my life in a HUGE way, I refuse to be identified as a "victim." Victims are DEAD. I am NOT dead.

I may not have left as soon as I SHOULD have, but I left before he killed me (either physically or emotionally). And although my soul still often feels numb & lifeless, I am beginning to feel a few tiny sparks of hope stirring within me -- and I *KNOW* that better days are coming just around the bend. I will not give up. I've come so far. By the grace of God, I know that I will "make it" ... I am a SURVIVOR.