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I had no idea what body armoring was until I met my current therapist. I had been doing it FOR YEARS, but I would just call it "stress" or "tension." Once she named it for me, it made total sense. I was putting on a suit of armor to protect against emotional warfare. If you are reading this post, you have probably been doing this for years yourself. You are not alone, and you CAN get that armor off, my friend. It just takes TIME and WORK, and in my experience, some really good therapy. This post is an intentionally short post just to introduce you to the topic and allow you some time and space to research further. I am not a licensed therapist, so I tread lightly on giving mental health advice, BUT I do want to spread information that has helped me and may also help you. Godspeed.
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There is nothing worse than having a fight or flight response. It can last for hours once the adrenaline and cortisol dump into the bloodstream. It is bad enough when you have that response and you know what caused it, but imagine having that response without knowing what caused it. That can feel defeating and depleting. Since I have had too many panic attacks to count over the years, I have started to identify ways and places I feel safe. If I am able to get to one of these places, I can sometimes head off a panic attack or restore a calm mood. I hope you can start to identify your safe places and safe activities. For ME, my top 7 are:
I created a Power Hour with my husband 1-2 years ago. This hour from 7-8 pm is sacred and did not happen until at least 10 years into my marriage. There were lots of reasons we were not connecting regularly, but one of them was some strained family dynamics. I created this time and location so that we could start to connect regularly and so that other family members would respect that time we both needed so desperately. Naming what you need is so important. Deciding what will happen and when it will happen is paramount for consistency and expectations in a relationship. As I have said many times, I am not a licensed therapist.
When I found my AMAZING current therapist, one of the very first things she guided me to ask myself regularly was "do I feel safe?". I barely had time to stretch for 5 minutes a day, so how was I going to remember to ask myself if I feel safe? What in the world was she talking about? I soon realized that the simple, brief, piercing question "do I feel safe?" would become a huge turning point for healing in my life. Do I feel safe in this friendship? Do I feel safe in this marriage? Do I feel safe at work? Do I feel safe with just me, myself, and I? And if I don't feel safe, can I ask those that love me for what I need? Are there some strategies we could implement that would help me to feel safe? Do I need to close spend more time with those people and in those places that help me feel safe? Will that help me navigate the unavoidable situations where I do not feel safe? And most importantly, if I start to feel unsafe (which can sometimes lead to a panic attack), HOW can I get back to safety both mentally and physically? She freed up my LIFE when she explained that I don't have to "fix" whatever is making me feel unsafe. I just have to learn how to regulate my own body and get back to a place of calm and centeredness. Wow. Mic Drop. I don't have to fix it! I can't fix it! This is one of those posts I encourage you to read a few times and perhaps grab a pen and paper. Jot down the places and people who make you feel icky. Write down the people and places that make you feel GOOD. And try to stop focusing on fixing the first list. You can't fix it. Focus on spending more time in and around the second list. And find your seven ways and places to feel safe. Godspeed. Photo Credit: Annie Spratt I was eager and he was young I was ready but he was numb I was happy and he was still I was hopeful but he was nil We had some laughs We had some smiles I read to him at night Does he remember those times? Then I had his brothers and he backed away or did I hedge him out? who could truly say? Come to me sweet boy not you, I mean him I mean all 3 of you silly I mean all of 3 of them It's different they all say he's not your blood Is it different? Aren't they all different? It's clouded. It's mud. I'm stuck and he's stuck. He looks and I look. We smile and they smile. I ache and he aches. We give and we take and sometimes it all breaks. His daddy can't get it. How could he? It's pointless. But I have to get it. And do it. And "go on, sis" Keep going. Keep numbing. I didn't know it. He didn't know it. We didn't know it but we did it and here we are and we are in it. So I look at him, a product as much of me as his dad. And I don't know what to do with it. I have these other 2 on my tab. The deductions, subtractions, additions?, conditions? It's all hard and whoever says that it isn't just ISN'T telling the truth dear. See I try to be real. He's "not mine" but I'm his and we're each other's and how does that feel? Would I change it? Some days I would. In a heartbeat. Not a second thought. But does he need me and do I need him and are we better because we came together when we were both broken and wounded and bleeding and cold Now we're mending and warmer and dare I say, a little old. Was it easy? It's been the hardest thing I've ever done. It can push 2 lovers apart quicker than any weapon, any gun, any bullet to the heart that's how some moments felt I have wept, I have wailed, I have screamed, I have knelt But one day his daddy may find out what it took to hold it ALL together and to remain unshook in the quake of dysfunction and abandonment and grief of a sweet little boy looking helplessly at me. She didn't stay, sweet baby, and I'm so sorry. I can't explain it. But I'm here and I'm not leaving, and I promise - I wouldn't change it. To every little boy or every little girl who had a mama or a daddy step up outside of the DNA lines. This is to you dear ones and to the strong adults who have rearranged their hearts and lives for you. We wouldn't change it. Dear God, show me the way I am on this road Lord Do I exit or do I stay? I was once a little girl Learning the Apostle's Creed and the Lord’s Prayer Now I am a grown woman And I have seen far too much despair I have healed some I have broken some Bodies and hearts and souls And as I travel down this road Lord I reach desperately for your hand to hold There are nights I feel so lonely I know you are there but I can’t find you There is an emptiness that can control me I try to fight it but it obscures you There is beauty in the absence Sometimes I see it and sometimes I feel it A tree that has shed its leaves A body beyond Earth's healing A notebook blank and waiting for a pen A shared glance between strangers where love will soon begin A happy baby waiting for his first tooth A hopeful high school senior full of ambition and youth My Mammaw’s vase waiting for its perfect bouquet My middle schooler’s energy as he starts every single day Do I notice the widow alone on the bench? Do I dwell on her grief - Do I absorb her heart-wrench? Or do I peek in the bird’s nest that comes every spring? And await its perfect eggs Soon baby birds with tiny wings There is beauty in the absence God For even sorrow and loss is proof of love I will travel the road you paved for me Gently nudge me in those quiet corners Lord Help me remember I am enough Amen. photo credit: Josh Hild Have you ever been in a crowded room Conversations buzzing Bass guitar, drums kaboom Fun is in the air Laughter all around Does anyone notice I haven't been found? Sure, I am talking pushing out a nod yes Does anyone notice my brand new dress? I have so many ideas, fresh perspectives, big dreams Does anyone notice my ship is moving downstream? Hey, Listen! Watch this! Help me decide what to do! Does anyone notice I have dilemmas and crises too? Take, take, take Always dolling out the goods But I want to receive Dear Therapist told me I could! How do I ask for it? I thought I told them what I need. They can't handle me needing them. For I am the Savior indeed. Not the Savior like Jesus but the Solver, the Lover The Healer, The Lifter The Fixer, The Mother I want to be picked up. I want to be tucked in. I want to be protected. I want to be the less friend. Did I say less? Oh wow. I did. I'm too tired to be the best. I'm too broken to always mend. And pick up and clean up and listen and console. I want to be picked up. I'm no longer willing to be told that something else is more important and you can't handle anymore. I need a net, a pillow, a soft spot. I need a knock on my door. So if you're sitting at that table feeling overlooked and used. I see you, my fellow Fixer, Let's blow up this one-sided ruse. To all the Takers in this world. From all the tired, used Givers.
I see it every year. It starts around the first week of November and it lasts through the middle of January. The holiday blues. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve actually slowed down enough to think about trends in my practice. Sure there is an actual diagnosis of seasonal affective disorder, but this is different. This is deeper. This is hard. And here’s how I see it every day for two months straight in my exam rooms: Me: Hey Mrs. Jones - it is so good to see you. I know we had to zoom for our last visit. What’s new in your life? Are you ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Are y’all going anywhere? Mrs Jones: oh you know, I will be cooking for the family for Thanksgiving. And the children and the grandchildren may stop by for Christmas. No... I don’t go anywhere. I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Anyway how are your boys? Are they ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Me: oh yes I will be making my Mammaw’s dressing, sweet potato casserole from an old Birmingham recipe from one of my mother’s friend’s mothers, my layered salad that a nurse I used to work with taught me how to make. Gosh that was over 25 years ago now. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Daddy will fry the turkey and my husband will fix the ham and a peanut butter pie. Mama will make the deviled eggs and the Waldorf salad. I will make my mother-in-law‘s corn bean casserole and some homemade mashed potatoes. Of course we will have rolls and cranberry sauce. Another blank stare. I haven’t seen my mother-in-law in over five years. The boys? Oh yes, they are more than ready for Christmas. We got them a matchbox Advent calendar they can’t wait to get started on. They’re growing up so fast. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. The oldest will be home from the Air Force. He and his girlfriend will be together the whole time I’m sure. I smile. But I’m nearly in tears. What is going on? And we sit for a moment. Two women born of different decades and sometimes different skin colors who have lived two very different lives at the outsider’s glance, but are so alike on the inside that it’s haunting. Her daughter is sitting beside her. They look and act so much alike it makes me smile from the inside out. I’m sure that’s what people say when they see me with my mother. I don’t have a daughter. Will my boys take care of me? Alright, get it together Amy. We finish out our actual medical visit and say our go-to goodbyes: Happy Holidays. Y’all be safe. Call me if you need me. And now, after ALL these years, I often hear “you know I love you.” And I believe it’s true. It’s not forced. It’s been earned. Is it against the rules? No, not my rules it’s not. Truth be told, I love her too. Maybe because I see myself in her and I’m cheering for myself in my old age. I’m giving myself a head start and saving myself a seat. I’ve practiced in Kentucky and in Georgia. I worked in a nursing home for six years and then made rounds as a nurse practitioner in that very same nursing home. I’m an old soul myself so I think I draw my elderly patients in and they stick. I stick to them too, and I think they know it. I’ve had so many Mrs. Jones over my 17 years. I’ve had Mr. Jones and Little Johnny Jones or Little Sally Jones as well, but I am so connected to Mrs. Jones that I can almost finish her sentence. Now I’m driving home and this 2 Lane Highway surrounded by trees and cows and horses makes me feel like I could be in any of the four states I’ve lived. It’s familiar and so are these thoughts. I’m a little girl in my childhood home with my brother and my parents and we just came home from candlelight Christmas Eve service and mama made lasagna. I haven’t really been hurt yet. I don’t know what it feels like to love somebody besides my family. I feel safe and secure and like I can do anything in this world. How did Mrs. Jones feel at this age? How did you feel at 10 years old? Now I’m driving home from Tuscaloosa with Delta Zeta on my back windshield. My finals are over. I get to see my boyfriend. I’m taking pre-med classes as well as a full nursing load, but I’ve been hurt by now. I’ve been disappointed and lied to by some people I trusted. But it’s the holidays you see, and I still feel like I’ve got a handle on things. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing at 20 years old? Had you been hurt by then? Oh wow. I didn’t really see this coming. Or did I? I’m sitting alone in my first marital home. Half my furniture is gone. Someone I love deeply told me I don't really need a Christmas tree this year because "it's just you." Am I not enough for a tree? Who am I by myself anyway? I’m driving to Georgia for Christmas. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sad in my life. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing when she was 30 years old? Was her heart broken like mine? Was yours? Gather around now. It’s time to eat. My baby boy is four years old and can’t seem to stop smiling. God gave him to me for sure. The first one I carried is six and almost as smart as I am. The one I didn’t carry but I’ve fed and loved now for seven years is sitting right next to me. Is he thinking about his mama? Will he ever see her again? Tiny pieces of my heart crumble for him. I just started taking prednisone for an incurable autoimmune disease I had to look up on the Internet. Lord have mercy and I really do mean "please Lord have some mercy." I’m only about 3 1/2 weeks into a lifelong diagnosis and I don’t know what the future holds. I’m scared. I’m sad. Merry Christmas y’all. It’s the holidays, right? I wonder how old Mrs. Jones was when she first questioned her mortality? How old were you? Were you 40 years old like me with a child in pre-K, one in first grade, and one silently falling apart right in front of you? You see that’s what the holiday blues are. They are every heartbreak and broken promise. They are all the fears and all the lost relationships. They are that empty seat at the table. The phone that barely rings. They are the one that got away and the one that stayed too long. They are your mother, your father, and your children. They are every husband you’ve ever had. How can they not be? We can’t erase our memories. I don’t have a cure for the holiday blues. I think they’re part of life. Mrs. Jones might tell me they get better with each decade or she might tell me they grow and take up more space than we should allow. I’m scared to ask her. None of us even talk about it really. We just say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, y’all be safe. So this is my letter to you at age 45. Some heartaches of mine have healed and some are still there. I don’t think we should only remember the good times because that’s not what made us. It’s certainly not what made me today sitting right here baring my soul and giving you the permission to bare yours. Acknowledge the things that built you. Godspeed. This goes out to every Mrs. Jones that has ever allowed me to know her. She is me and I am her. And I thank God for that. A popular book in the field of marriage and relationships is Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages. In his book, Dr. Chapman discusses the five core languages used to give and receive love. Knowing your love language and that of your partner is quite beneficial as you navigate various scenarios and frustrations throughout your relationship. I will link the quiz below. The 5 Love Languages according to Dr. Chapman are:
Originally written in 2004, the book has now sold over 6 million copies. I read it when it was originally released, and I read it again when I remarried. I knew the importance of speaking the same love language (or at least being aware of my partner's love language) . I think it is helpful to know your close friends' love language and the language of your children or other close family members. If you are not familiar with the concept, I will use this brief example: Amy (acts of service, physical touch): " I am so tired. Ugghh I have so much to do. I don't know how I'm going to get it all done." Husband thinking to himself (words of affirmation, quality time): Amy is so tired. She should go to bed. Maybe if I keep encouraging her to go to bed, she will. Amy thinking to herself: If he would fold this laundry, then maybe I could go to bed. But instead he's just telling me I should go to bed. Husband thinking to himself: Why is she folding that laundry when she is so tired? If I offer to fold the laundry, she may lash out at me since she's so tired, and (needing words of affirmation) that would ruin the night, so I will just stay with her (quality time) and gently encourage her to go to bed. Amy fuming at this point (acts of service, physical touch): If he's not going to fold the laundry, he could at least rub my back. Then maybe I could relax enough to go to bed. But husband doesn't rub my back because he wants the words of affirmation and reassurance to do so and the spiral continues. Neither spouse did anything WRONG, but remembering each other's love language might have made for a much more pleasant evening. Pleasant evenings bleed into smooth mornings and so forth. This example is just one of many. It can apply to family, friends, coworkers. You may be trying to show appreciation with a gift or money but they WANT / NEED to hear you say why you appreciate them. They may be doing all the little chores and acts of service to get your attention, but you WANT / NEED them to stop running around and spend the afternoon with you without any distractions. It really is fascinating once you know the love language of your partner or best friends. You can spend an entire afternoon dissecting why one situation went south based on love language miscommunication alone. But back to PHYSICAL TOUCH, I think this love language is often overlooked and misunderstood. For obvious reasons, it's viewed with caution, and while that is good... it is also robbing us of a basic human need. With the surge of technology and virtual everything, many of us go days or weeks without touching another human, particularly these last 2 years. Throughout my career, I have used touch as a means to reassure and connect with my patients. Since I received touch as a child and infant in a safe, healthy environment, I have been able to give touch easily. I know that is not true for everyone I encounter, and I acknowledge that. Here are some ways I have used touch in my practice:
Here are some ways I have used touch in my home with my children:
My challenge to you, wherever you are, however old you are, whatever childhood you had, whatever love language you prefer, however many times you've been hurt, is to THINK about physical touch in the setting of a newborn baby. I have linked an article below touting the science behind touch and neurological growth and development. If you're old enough to find this article, then you have been a child yourself. You may have children or be involved in a child's life. We all know that a crying baby or toddler is often soothed by the touch of a loved one or caregiver. Animals are the same way. I dare say, adults are ALSO the same way. If you love someone (your child, your partner, your mother, your close friend), touch them. HUG them. Incorporate safe and healthy touch into your daily routine. We have grown generations of adults now who are not used to being touched. Those untouched adults are now having more untouched children. Those untouched children are looking for affection in ways that a simple "cuddle session" (what we call it at our house) may have averted. It saddens me when I shake a teenager's limp and nervous hand or attempt an appropriate side-hug with someone and am greeted with surfboard-stiff awkwardness. I see the physical and emotional effects of the untouched in my office each week, and it breaks my heart. Pat Harris was my first grade teacher. She had a Hug-Me-Spot right by the door to her classroom. No student could enter her room in the morning or leave her room in the afternoon without hugging Miss Harris on the Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs a Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs an army of Miss Harrises. The rules and restrictions have created a generation of kids that don't know what touch is actually appropriate, and adults that are too glued to their phones to use their hands to rub their child's back or snuggle on the couch. These touch-starved kids marry each other and are LONELY and starving for affection that was never modeled for them. And here we are. I challenge you to touch someone today. And tomorrow. And the next day. Hug. Cuddle. Kiss your partner. Squeeze your child. Hold hands. Make touch a part of your day every day. We may really change the world. 🌎 Let's try it. ☀️ Godspeed. Hey, I know you. I share a bed, a remote, and a living room with you. I ride in the front seat with you. I talk to you numerous times a day about kids and groceries and logistics. I know how you take your coffee and what you like on your pizza. But, do I know you right now, at this very moment, 12 years in, more or less than I did say 10 years ago? BEFORE our conversations revolved around schedules and pickups and homework. I know I have changed in the last 12 years. Surely you have as well? Have I asked? Have I noticed? Have you seen the changes in me? Have you noticed? Are we giving each other what we need? (my therapist is ALWAYS in my ear- "tell them what you NEED Amy! tell that person what you NEED.") Every year we try to take a trip sans kiddos to regroup, reconnect, unplug, and just have fun together. It is a WORTHY investment (time and money) in a marriage or relationship. Parenting is hard! Adulting is hard! Marriage is hard! Sure, some people make it look easy, but let's leave them out of it and talk about the real work that staying married involves. We usually try some "games" or conversation starters to break our habit of only talking about our kids, our jobs, or our day-to-day frustrations. Sometimes we play "would you rather?". Here are some of the ones we asked this last date night:
Wait, what just happened? We soon realized that the frivolous conversations led to deeper ones and that was the eventual goal anyway, BUT had we ever really talked about any of these things? We have not crossed into some of those territories personally, but we have witnessed other loved ones facing different challenges. Those various challenges have seemed more frequent as we age, or perhaps our reservoirs of empathy grow deeper with maturity and life experience. To be quite frank, husband and I had not attended many funerals together prior to the last 2-3 years. We were busy attending weddings or baby showers. That dress with heels and coat and tie now have a different destination it seems. And so it goes. This weekend we've discussed our future grandparent names, how we picture retirement for each of us individually as well as together, and trips we plan to take. We have discussed aging parents and various family caregiving scenarios. Our first few "just us" getaways involved naps and recovery from pure exhaustion and planning out toddler birthday parties, Halloween costume ideas, or Santa ideas. Now we are brainstorming passive income ideas, retirement goals, and our own personal dreams and desires. We are transforming, both together and separately, from Mom & Dad, to 2 people with our own passions, fears, and personal insecurities. I am by no means a marriage expert.
I have seen a beautiful example of marriage in my parents and some of my other family members. Husband and I have each had a failed marriage prior to this one, so we know how painful divorce is and we are each way too stubborn to go down without a fight. I'm not writing this as a beacon of marital bliss, but rather as a tired working mom in the thick of motherhood, menopause, and midlife (try having kids in your mid-30's) 😜. I am writing this as an imperfect, hard-to-please, bleeding-heart woman married to an imperfect, hard-headed, scared-of-abandonment man that didn't see the example of marriage that I saw growing up. We are actually two scared-of-being-vulnerable humans bound together by beautiful boys and God, fate, the universe - but we, too, are still trying to figure it all out. If you find yourself still figuring it all out, it's OKAY. Stay the course. My Uncle Don told me one time many years ago, "Amy, you know how to stay married, right? long pause. You just never leave. Neither of you. You stay and you don't leave." Time and space apart can sometimes be good for a marriage. They can allow room to think and heal. But time TOGETHER has been our best strategy. Make your marriage a priority. Make your spouse a priority. He or she is a worthy investment. You can read all the books and try all the counseling, but sometimes you just need TIME together and conversations that bring you closer than you thought you might ever be. Godspeed. |