Where the Acute Morphed Into the Chronic

As life as I know it would, I wrote a very good blog posting this morning - if I do say so myself.  I was so excited about it. I saved it, I thought, scheduled it to post on Friday at 3 a.m., started another blog posting, and left to run some errands.  When I went to do the final edit, I discovered much to my chagrin and dismay that everything I wrote, even the captions of the pictures, etc. was gone.  All gone.  If I had the energy, I would cry.  Should I see what I can do to recreate it?  Or should I just post that today's blog is missing because the dog ate it?

Oh yes.  I don't have a dog. 

Our campsite at Lands End park in Tobermory, ON.  Hubby setting up.

There are times in life when you have a clear cut beginning to a different phase in a situation whether it be physical, emotional or both.  There are other times when you don't, when things just morph from one thing to another without a clear cut divide.  For me, when the acute phase following workplace bullying morphed into the chronic phase, there was a dividing point I can look at and recognize as we were heading to a camping vacation about six months or so after the first stress breakdown.

Although I knew I hadn't been feeling up to par, I had no idea that there was something called the chronic phase after a trauma much less what it looked like, tasted like and, most importantly, felt like. This is the phase that feels like it never ends.  The one with intangible, mostly vague symptoms which are both physical and psychological: a fatigue that never seems to end, lack of balance, hyper vigilance, combined with the aforementioned continuation of both cognitive/psychological problems and verbal screw ups.

Oh joy, oh delight.

Just what I didn't want and also  something I was totally unprepared for.

Decommissioned Lighthouse,  Tobermory, 

I hadn't been feeling my best for some weeks before we left for a car camping adventure the fall after the end for me at the workplace came and the breakdowns started.  My mind was definitely down for the count.  It wasn't working well enough to get all our gear together.  So helpful hubby put everything together.  He chose the tent, our small canoe camping one - which turned out to be a good decision as I started seeking places that felt safe and the smaller tent felt safer to me than the larger one we usually use for what we call car camping.  He also forgot to test things beforehand, so we had a few surprises and had to find a hardware store first off.

I had two indications right off that something was definitely off inside me.  First, I was always tired.  So tired, that functioning wasn't  happening and sleep didn't help.  I never felt refreshed after a sleep.  I still felt tired and draggy without any let up.

Second, is what I now know is hyper vigilance.  At that time, I didn't even know the term existed, let alone what it translated to in real life, my life.

As we were walking in the small town of Tobermory after getting set up at the campground, a young child ran past me whooping loudly just as she passed me.  I jumped.  I started breathing rapidly.  I was scarred and ready to run.  Only hubby's presence kept me vertical.

It was then we realized that going into a crowded, noisy restaurant was not going to happen.  So hubby suggested we go to the grocery story and buy sandwiches, drinks, etc. which we then took to the lighthouse to eat.  All around the lighthouse are rocks.  Big rocks,  Uneven rocks.  Hubby found a crevice in the rocks where we could be half hidden from other humans as we ate.  It was good.  Very good.

First crisis averted - barely.

Cedar Strip Canoe

While sitting in our little hidey hole, we had a good view of the water around us watching boats including this one which paddled ashore.

That first night, I was snuggled in my warm, down-filled sleeping bag by 7 p.m.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

We've been to Tobermory many times over the years so it was familiar to me.  Kind of a safe place for me.

This time we did different things than we'd done before.  Partly because of my symptoms but also because the weather was bad and most boat excursions were not going out.

Therefore, we went to Cabot Head Lighthouse for the first time.

Looking at the picture above, I look "normal".  I look like everyone else.  There is no indication that I have PTSD and trauma.  There is no indication that anything is wacky inside me.

That's what PTSD and trauma are about.  They're invisible to the naked eye.  One has to look below the surface.  Way below the surface to "see" it.  One has to engage the person in conversation and listen - really listen - and get to know them under the skin.  Get to know the person inside the outward shell.

Which most people don't have the time or inclination to do.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

At that time, I was still thinking that the exhaustion and fatigue I was experiencing were short-term and would go away soon.  I had no idea that not only had they come to stay but were in the process of making themselves at  home in my body.

I was still looking for ways to go forward in my life not only post workplace abuse but also post work.  I discovered that people who below to the friends of Cabot Lighthouse association could volunteer to spend a week or so in the lighthouse in the former lighthouse keeper's accommodations for a modest fee in exchange for volunteer work which could range from groundskeeping to lighthouse tours.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

We spent time inspecting the lighthouse, walking various trails around the grounds and, of course, taking lots and lots of pictures.

Sunset at Singing Sands, part of the Fathom Five National Park

No trip to Tobermory would be complete for us without a trip to Singing Sands especially at sunset where the above picture was taken.

Friends of ours were also in the area at the same time.  When we were at Tobermory at the same time, we would arrange to meet at Singing Sands to enjoy - and photograph - the sunset together.  This time, the weather was bad and hubby and I discussed if we should go to Singing Sands as we weren't sure that the other couple would come.  After some discussion, we went anyway.  Just in case.  It turns out the other couple had the same discussion and came to the same conclusion.

The picture above came out of that meeting.  That decision to go just in case the others did too.

It reminds me of how there is always hope in even the darkest of situations.

In my case, hope for healing.

Time to leave Tobermory and head on to new adventures.

As with all good, and even not so good, things must come to an end, so did this part of our adventure along with this part of the noticeable beginnings of the chronic stage post trauma.

We left on the ChiCheemaun (Big Canoe) ferry across Lake Huron on one side and Georgian Bay on the other to Manitoulin Island and from there to the mainland and the Trans Canada Highway.

This part of the adventure ended, but more both good and bad are around the corner.

Looking down from a passenger deck

*****

Although I've done my best to remember and recreate what I wrote this morning, it's not the same.  There are things added and there are things which didn't make it into this narrative.

Even though it's not the same as the original narrative, I hope it will still speak to you and let you know that you're not alone.