This word directly relates to where I perceived myself to be at on January 28th of 2020 where I made an Instagram story with the following sentiments. “I’m a big goal setter but sometimes I push them back and procrastinate. This month and this year is different (said with a cringe amount of confidence). I’m leaning in and putting those steps out into the universe. I can see now that there are people and things being placed in my path that are meshing and aligning so well for what I’m trying to do. I can’t attribute that to anything else but my purpose coming to light. It’s driving me in a new way and I’m so thankful for that.”
Literally the. next. day, an event happened in my family that would rupture it’s very foundation of safety and my heart. The next month, my position in my district was taken away due to a failed levy. And the month after that, our schools were shut down to Covid-19 along with the rest of the world. So needless to say, my hopes, dreams and positive disposition about “everything happening for a reason and falling into place” was really shot to hell and my heart and mental health was in shambles. My theme song for that year would have been a combination of Alanis’ Morrisette’s “Ironic” and “Shot Through the Heart” by Bon Jovi.
So this year, my word that resonated the most with me is……
What I am hoping to reclaim: – my marriage – a new role as Mom to adults with trauma – the belief in myself as a leader in education – my pursuit of impactful experiences outside of school counseling role (public speaking, writing, podcast, etc.) – prioritizing vacation and travel for our family and myself – saying no to people or experiences that drag me down
Even “reclaimed” my hair which had gotten out of control long since the last time I cut it in March of 2020.
Here is what a fancy Facebook quiz told me about my 2022 and I rather like the final result:
Why does stubborn and independent have to be combined together two times?!?!? Sheesh I get it…..
A few other members of Team HB picked words as well – Scott – GROWTH WonderGIRL – RESTORE WonderBOY – “your mom” (typical answer these days – oh joy)
If you’re interested in checking out my previous’ years words on the blog, just click the “one little word” tag below the post and they should all pop up. 2010- me (the year I went to Haiti and met Scott) 2011- you 2012- us (got married) 2013- rooted 2014- connect (Team Brave Dinosaurs formed February 2014) 2015- (survive), didn’t pick a word out of sheer chaos that was our journey this year including criminal trial and extremely hard trauma behaviors 2016- together (adoption!) 2017- allow 2018- spark 2019- value 2020- vision 2021- heal
From his perspective: Ketamine treatments (see part 1 for “what is ketamine”?) have been life changing for me. The treatments have allowed me to think clearly. It has taken my anxiety that i have had most of my life and made it almost non existent. The best way I can describe it is that I can finally breath, but not in the physical sense. I feel like I have clarity and a thousand pounds of gunk as been removed from my chest.
WB and I waiting for Dad after his last session!
NW ketamine has been amazing every step of the way. They have answered all my questions and took away any anxiety or nervousness i had about the process. Their clinic is so inviting and relaxing. The staff is incredible. You’re in a room with a nurse and you sit in a giant comfy chair. There are all kinds of essential oil scents to smell during the process.
During the infusion the only way I can explain it is you are seeing things through your minds eye. It is an out of body experience that is hard to describe. I never felt scared or unsafe. The nurse is always there in case you need to talk to them. One of the most impactful things for me was that I actually got to “talk” to my abuser and finally say no. Also during this process I was actually able to see in myself that I have worth. If you know me, that is not something I’ve ever done or thought.
PS. I listen to non lyrical Native American flute music on my AirPods during the session (he really felt you needed to know this part.)
Celebration lunch at Fogo De Chau in Bellevue.
How cool are these elevators?!?!?!
From my (wife’s) perspective: I have a lighter and more free husband after the last three weeks of treatment. PTSD and other mental health diagnoses can feel like a jail cell sometimes and can be incredibly isolating when others don’t know the heaviness of what is happening behind closed doors. He is slower to react and more gentle in his interactions with me and the kiddos. I am so grateful we have a supportive network that can suggest these modes of treatment and that we have the resources to seek them out for ourselves and our family. I am also grateful my husband loves me enough to listen to my ideas and try them out, making himself incredibly vulnerable to not only the action but me writing about it afterward (and just to reiterate, with his permission).
I know I have been absent on here the last couple of months – it is hard to discern what stories to share and what stories to keep private to protect the relationships and journeys of those I love and care for.
In usual end of year fashion, I look forward to publishing my yearly blog book and don’t want to miss out on a chance to tell some stories from this year – perhaps even with the purpose of sharing inspiration to others that could use it.
This year, my One Little Word was heal (read blog post here). Part of this was researching some alternative forms of healing to the usual suspects of medication and talk therapy. These forms of help definitely have a place in our world of mental health but what I am finding is that some mental health struggles can actually be resistant to this treatment or even worse, they can make some symptoms even worse.
My husband, who has struggled with mental health stemming from childhood trauma (his most accurate diagnosis would most likely be Complex-PTSD but very few clinicians give this diagnosis – especially to adults). After a rough patch this year, he agreed to try some alternative forms of treatment, including both Ketamine infusions and EMDR. I thought I would share a piece of his story (with his permission) about Ketamine, in case you or a loved one is also struggling with depression/anxiety that may be resistant to other forms of treatment.
Northwest Ketamine was recommended to us and he had a very good experience there. I will post a Part 2 with some of his own thoughts on the treatment.
Have you heard of Ketamine infusions before? If the answer is no and you or a loved one is struggling with mental health, remember to do some research and ask questions – there is more out there than medication and talk therapy!
I struggled with what to call the experience of WonderGIRL moving out of our house unexpectedly this last summer – although many writers talk about it as a transition (when your teen moves out or goes to college) defined as “the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another”….that just didn’t fit this particular experience.
Our experience was much less of a process and ongoing period but a jump off a cliff into the anxiety-ridden unknown. And as we move forward, I am going to write about this experience just from my point of view and not sharing a lot of details about her or her choices during this time – and the reason I’m writing about it at all is to practice my own form of self-care and survival and my own processing of disenfranchised grief that happened during this time.
At the end of July, WG decided she was ready for adulthood outside of our home. While I am sure she was fully convinced she had the skills necessary to do so at the time, I knew a different story but had no control one way or the other. In Brene Brown’s newest book (must-read BTW), she writes, “as it turns out, being able to see what’s coming doesn’t make it any less painful when it arrives.” Because the thing is, we PREPARED for this transition. We were talking about her adulthood with her therapist starting at the age of 16! We purchased a house to transition into a downstairs apartment for her. We had countless conversations spelling out (and acting out awkwardly) every hard thing she might encounter and how her emotions might react to front load her body’s reaction. We provided all the safety and the protection and the structure that all the books said we should.
The only picture I have of us during this time period. We saw each other less than 5 times in 5 months.
And I’m pretty sure the hurt and the grief was the same amount as folks that literally didn’t even see the cliff looming ahead. After she left, we tried to set up regular meeting times – they all fell through. After she left, I tried to text and remind her of our unconditional love – they weren’t returned. After she left, I checked my phone obsessively just for a sign that she was still alive or hadn’t ended up at the ER for suicidal thoughts. I felt twinges of hope when she sounded lucid and genuine and then waves of despair when I encountered the shell of a daughter I had raised for the last 7 years.
I truly felt like a failure – I did all the things that I knew how to do from countless trainings on the effects of trauma. I did all the things I thought I should do as a foster/adoptive mama. I advocated for her in all the ways I knew how to – and it still ended like this and her choices were that of any other kiddo aging out of foster care (I’ll share those devastating stats below) – so what was all the heartache, the criminal trial, the social workers, the allegations, the painful moments even for?!?!
This feeling (not her or her actions, just MY bodily response) sent me into a state of depression for quite a few months this Summer/Fall. People even reached out to me with typical requests to share my blog or talk to their friends about adopting or taking in teens with trauma and I told them I was the wrong person to ask – I would have told them to run the other way!!!!
I went to work and to volleyball and sometimes thought of nothing else besides returning to my bed and Netflix the second I could. I found small pockets of joy (especially during volleyball) that kept me going but was having a hard time. I found this image while scrolling social media and it resonated with me for that time period – like I’m going to work and outwardly showing signs of flourishing, but definitely ALSO in a period of depression.
And just in case someone you know is in a similar state, I thought I would share a little section titled “What helped me during this time period?” – my husband and WB understanding my grief and letting me be – check ins with our therapist – vocalizing my struggle to my colleagues and my volleyball team – adjusting my goals of movement and self-care to accurate standards (work out 1/week vs everyday for example) – texts that just say “checking in” without any judgement if I don’t respond – being clear with my boundaries (“I don’t want anyone to come in my room tonight”, “I can’t go to that family thing – you need to go without me.”)
Although WG didn’t technically age out while “in the system”, any history of foster care and a trauma-brain can contribute to these outcomes.
Again, I am writing about this experience just to process it for myself but also to highlight a journey that I don’t see revealed in many other places. Having a struggling adult child with mental health issues is SO ISOLATING – you care about their privacy and dignity with their own story and can’t share the same as with a little child, yet folks really don’t know how to help or what to say even if you do share. So you spare them that experience and say nothing…..
As I am still smack-dab in the middle of this transition, other things I’d like to document here: – what I learned (about myself, about young adults with her background, about our system) – the impact on my marriage
She sat at the back and they said she was shy, She led from the front and they hated her pride, They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance, They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence, When she shared no ambition they said it was sad, So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad, They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears, And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears, And she listened to all of it thinking she should, Be the girl they told her to be best as she could, But one day she asked what was best for herself, Instead of trying to please everyone else. So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees, She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves, She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine, And she told them what she’d been told time after time, She told them she felt she was never enough, She was either too little or far far too much, Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak, Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek, Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs, And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her, And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave, For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.
Came across this on Facebook and it took my breath away….had to share. Had to save so I can stumble upon later.
Getting married in our late 20s meant we had some stuff to work out in our early relationship. Some past patterns and hurts that showed up early and threatened our relationship in big ways….I am so glad those hurts stretched us, made us vulnerable, and got us into therapy because it built two individual humans strong enough to endure what was to come.
The last two years have included some dark and hard tunnels. And I respect and love this man for blindly walking through them with me hand in hand….without knowing when the light will come.
