“I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious.”

flying drone in desert

I waited too long to write this entry, and now I’m bursting.  Unfortunately, this means the information I previously translated and organized a bit in my head is now scattered.  (Inner 19-year-old:  Nobody will notice the difference.  Duh. ((The rest of me’s giggling in the background.)))  My sister is buying another property a few hours further north.  (It’s effectively Canada where Americans have rights.)  I immediately assumed the universe made it more possible for me to drive there, even though it’ll take longer.  I’m running with it.

My sister likes outdoorsy stuff.  The Army ruined outside for me; now, I only appreciate nature from air-conditioned, creepy-crawly-slithery-free environments.  Preferably in 4k. 🙃  I love animals, but I’m the reason my family couldn’t have a dog when I was a kid.  We tried a few times, but my inability to control my excitement got in the way.  The puppy would sense my enthusiasm and mirror it back, usually in the form of a puddle.  Or that time I became hysterical when our new white poodle got loose during a snow storm.  (I was sure we’d never see her again and overreacted. 🤪🤭)

Pets are attracted to my energy.  I have to be mindful of this, especially around working dogs.  I suspect I give off a high level of excitement to meet them, and they love it.  Their owners do not.  Some people don’t invite me to visit their pets anymore.  It’s because they hate seeing them lose their shit over some rando who has never even held them during fireworks.  It’s not something I know how to control, so I force myself to ignore working dogs.  I also watch my neighbors’ dogs from my balcony and resist fussing over them in the elevator.  It’s hard.

excited children

I’ve noticed my cat is changing along with me as I heal and grow.  We’re no longer agitated by thunder and slamming doors.  A year ago, both triggered a panic attack like clockwork, and Amelia B vanished for over every loud noise.  Now, we notice, but carry on as before.  Better than winning the lottery, yo.  My shoulders are two inches lower, now.  (I didn’t even know they were perma-hunched!)  All the aches and pains I discovered when (re?)learning to live in my body were directly related to being stuck in survival mode.

I thought I was safer in that mode, but I was wrong (immediately followed by feeling retro-horrified.)  I used a powerful massager and aromatherapy to train my body to relax.  For 21 days, each time I realized I was hunched up, I sat down in a designated spot with my massager and turned on a lamp. (I use light therapy, too.)  Next, I breathed in my Embodiment oil from Hey Fran Hey and Resonance Apothecary, via The Friend Zone podcast.  Finally, I used the messager on my entire back until relaxed.  It feels incredible, and gradually, it became a habit.  Now, I notice immediately when my body starts sliding into survival mode and correct.

Seeing my cat become more chill along with me is a nice bonus.  The weight of the massager provides additional pressure, which is fabulous.  I want to start getting a professional massage regularly in the future.  Today, the thought of a stranger touching me makes me want to scream, but I know this is temporary.  Wow.  I can remember when the mere suggestion of such a thing made me want to fight.  That’s what I like about baby steps; they leave a trail.  Seeing that little bit of progress motivates me to keep moving.  And Beyoncè.  I’m off to twist all the knobs and push all the buttons on my new Arturia MicroFreak synth. 😆💜✌🏽

Arturia MicroFreak

2 thoughts on ““I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious.”

  • Between tight muscles from having to work extra hard to hold my EDS joints in place to just, well, being my PTSD self, I’ve gotten professional massages just to be able to turn my neck for as long as I’ve been an adult. (PT is helping it get less dire, at least on the EDS front, but I still get them.) I get pretty hefty massages because light touch bothers me and my muscles are basically wooden planks during a flare, but one way I dissociate is actually to…fall asleep. Massage therapists are continually amazed I can fall asleep during deep tissue massage, it’s a safe way I can let them do the thing I need done without actually having to be aware of it. Maybe ask M to try giving you a massage first, simulating the more professional detached mannerisms, to see how you respond to someone touching you in on your back while you can’t see what’s happening. And, start with a chair massage where you can be fully clothed and in a position to jump up if you panic. Work up to a table massage.

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