Opening Up About My Trauma

Posted on by Astrid

Last Monday, I was going for a walk with my one-on-one for the moment when we saw a few clients and staff she knew (she’s a temp worker). She wanted to “say a quick hi”. That turned into a fifteen-minute conversation between her and one of the other staff, which eventually turned to clients with severe challenging behavior being taken on outings off grounds and then, when they act out, staff being filmed by bystanders when restraining the client. This discussion triggered me, because it led to flashbacks of the times I’ve been “guided” (as staff call it) to my room. More like physically moved by several staff at a time, and the fact that I wasn’t officially restrained (because that probably only counts when you’re pinned down to the ground), is solely due to my lack of physical strength.

I asked the staff, admittedly more curtly than I should have, to not have these discussions in my presence in the future, as it was triggering me. She told me I was making it all about me and if I wanted to offer an opinion I should’ve made sure I listened to the whole thing because now I was twisting the truth. I told her about the time I was shoved to my room and staff threatened to lock me up in there. “You probably deserved it,” was her response.

This led to a whole chain reaction of triggers, in which I started to doubt the validity of my trauma-related symptoms. Didn’t I deserve the harsh punishments my parents gave me? I know at least back in my day an “educational spanking” was legal. In some U.S. states, child abuse isn’t even child abuse if it’s used as punishment.

I can’t go into the details of the punishments I endured as a child, and I’m pretty sure they’re not necessarily illegal. Does that mean they can’t have caused me PTSD?

That evening though, I was having intense flashbacks and decided to open up to my staff for that moment. She happened to be one of the staff who’d shoved me to my room on Friday and threatened to lock me in there. I had to admit – even though I don’t believe it – that I deserved to be physically moved to my room. I mean, the reason was my dropping the F-bomb while in the communal room (and then refusing to go to my room on my own when told to), which, well, truthfully staff do all the time.

After I’d given examples of the way my parents treated me, my staff seemed quite shocked. I honestly don’t understand this, as she restrains clients everyday and never even cares about the impact this has on them. I mean, I know, staff restraining clients is legal, but then again does something have to be illegal to be traumatic? And if so, where’s the boundary between an “educational spanking” and child abuse? Or does it have to be unwarranted? In that case, I must say, my parents acted out of a need to show who’s boss because they’d felt powerless over my behavior. I did, indeed, try to excuse my parents’ actions by explaining about my own behavior. The staff didn’t seem impressed.

I know, in my heart, that the truth is that restraints can and do traumatize clients too. I know I experienced trauma while in the psychiatric hospital because of being locked up in seclusion against my will. I know I still experience emotional trauma. And, of course, I’m more sensitive to this due to the trauma I endured as a child. But it isn’t black-or-white. And this is confusing.

Poem: Home Is…

Posted on by Astrid

Home was
At my parents’
Who were there and yet weren’t there for me
Hurting me in ways I feel I can’t express
It wasn’t safe
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
On my own
Barely holding on by a thread
Surviving but that was about as far as it went
It wasn’t doable
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
In the mental hospital
Where I stayed for nearly a decade
Only to be kicked out again
That wasn’t forever
And that wasn’t me

Home was
With my spouse
Again, barely holding on by a thread
Managing life by sleeping and panicking
It didn’t work out
But maybe that was me again

Home then was
In the care facility in Raalte
About as unsuitable as they come in theory
But it was near-perfect in reality
And yet, I left
And that was me (sort of)

Home then became
My current care home
With harsh staff, chaotic clients and poor quality of care
I wasn’t abused (not really), but that’s about as far as it goes
It doesn’t feel safe
But then I wonder, isn’t that just me?

Maybe soon home will be
The future care home
The big unknown
Will I feel sort of happy there?
No-one can tell
But it’s up to me

To make myself feel at home

This poem may sound a bit self-loathing. It isn’t intended this way, but I couldn’t express as concisely how I feel about my various “homes” and particularly the way people have told me I approach them (ie. the idea that I’m never satisfied anyway because I’m looking for perfection) without sounding this way. This is definitely not my best poem, but oh well, it shows my conflicting feelings about the fact that I’ve never felt “at home” anywhere.

I’m joining dVerse’s OLN. I’m also joining Friday Writings. The optional prompt is “muscle memory”. I guess repeating that I don’t feel at home anywhere counts.

Lovin’ Lately (July 14, 2023)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. It’s been forever, probably years, since I shared a compilation of my favorite things. With my birthday just over two weeks ago and all the lovely presents I got, I thought it’s about time. I also discovered some other lovely things. Here goes. I am joining in with Friday Favorites.

1. Lots of polymer clay. Plus some lovely cutters to use with it. I got twelve small, one-ounce blocks of Fimo from my spouse, as well as four two-ounce blocks of Premo and a large block of white Premo. I already opened the Premo in the color 18k gold. Unfortunately, the pieces I created using it, were ruined in the oven.

From my parents, I got a box full of 24 small packets of a budget brand of polymer clay. I also got several cutters. One of them was a unicorn and I’ve really been loving creating pendants using it. Here is the first one, done using the budget brand polymer clay. I was convinced I’d used lilac clay, but it’s clearly blue and that’s not because the clay changed color in the oven. Apparently my staff with whom I did the pendant is slightly color blind.

2. Beads. I got some lovely glass beads from my mother-in-law. Some of them are in the shape of animals, such as butterflies, pigs and ladybugs. My spouse uses the ladybug emoji as a nickname (nick-emoji?) for me, so these are extra fitting.

3. Podcasts. Because as of iOS 16.5, my Braille display freezes when using book apps, including the default iPhone one, I’ve had to find other ways to occupy myself. I started looking at podcasts. A favorite is the Enneagram & Coffee podcast. I especially loved the episode on attachment theory and the Enneagram, which I listened to just a day or two after writing my post on attachment issues last Sunday. I was right to think most Enneagram type Fours lean towards anxious attachment. So do I.

4. My new nightgowns. I bought them at Hema, a department store my spouse and I visit almost each week we’re in Apeldoorn, a few weeks ago. Both of them are so comfy and they look good too.

5. White chocolate peanut rocks. Not sure if these exist in the English-speaking world too, but peanut rocks are basically chunks of chocolate filled with peanuts. They usually come in dark and milk chocolate varieties, but I’d never seen them in white chocolate form. Until last week, that is. Since my favorite type of chocolate is white chocolate (and yes, I know chocoholics say white chocolate isn’t real chocolate), I just had to buy them. And oh boy, are they delish!

What have you been lovin’ lately?

June 2023 Reflections #WBOYC

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. It’s the end of the first half of 2023. Wow, can you imagine? I’m joining What’s Been On Your Calendar? (#WBOYC). Here goes.

Honestly, I can’t remember much of the first few weeks of June, other than the fact that I was extremely motivated to get moving. I had signed up for two Apple Watch challenges. Suffice it to say that motivation quickly diminished and I finally broke my 300-odd day streak of reaching my movement goal yesterday. That is, I broke it last Saturday too but cheated by lowering my movement goal for that day.

In other respects, the month has been meh too. I only wrote twelve blog posts, including this one, and hardly have been crafting. I mostly spent my days playing dice and the odd card game. I think I might be depressed, but more likely it’s the shitty circumstances of living in my current care home.

However, I’m pretty sure my staff think I’m doing well, as I’ve been in the communal room more. The reason is mostly to connect to somewhat familiar people, because I’ve mostly been assigned completely new temp workers. When I try to communicate my discomfort with this, I’m usually met with rather curt remarks that the staff have no obligation to explain their decisions to me and then, when I spiral further into meltdown, I’m met with harsher and harsher actions from the staff.

The month of June is, of course, also my birthday month. I had my sister and her family over in Lobith last Saturday, which was okay, though a bit stressful. I spent Tuesday, which was my actual birthday, in Apeldoorn with my parents and spouse. I really loved the Thai food we ate.

In the health department, I have been doing okay. My cardio fitness level has been declining again, unfortunately and is now just barely in the below-average range. I gained a little weight too, but truthfully my weigh-in on May 31 showed the lowest weight I’d been in forever, so I’m not worried about that. After all, I’m still at a healthy BMI.

How was your June?

#WeekendCoffeeShare (June 23, 2023)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’ve once again been feeling really unmotivated to blog. I didn’t even bother with the Wednesday HodgePodge this week. Today though, I want to write. I’m joining the #WeekendCoffeeShare linky. It’s been a while. I already had my last cup of coffee for the day, but we all need to stay hydrated, so if join me for a glass of water, that’ll be fab.

If we were having coffee (or water, but I always start my paragraphs this way), I’d start out by sharing about the weather. Ours has been mostly sunny and warm with daytime temperatures of about 27°C. On Tuesday we had a thunderstorm here and on Thursday it rained continuously all evening. My spouse loves thunderstorms, but Lobith didn’t get any.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I have been struggling quite badly lately. The staff here seem to have decided to consistently send the least familiar to me staff member they have on board to do my one-on-one, even when that staff isn’t the least familiar with the other clients. I am of course the one labeled manipulative when I get irritable at the unfamiliar staff. I originally wrote a long rant about this situation, but deleted it because really it doesn’t help anyone.

If we were having coffee, I’d share that, due to these difficult circumstances, I’ve been feeling rather depressed and not as motivated to do much of anything. I keep playing dice games on my phone in an app called Dice World. I also play dice with most staff.

If we were having coffee, I’d share that my sister and her family are coming to Lobith tomorrow for an early birthday celebration for me. I will be in Lobith by about 11AM, though my sister won’t be there till 3PM or so. Unfortunately, on Sunday, my mother-in-law has to be on call for the animal rescue service she does volunteer work for, so we won’t be going there.

On Tuesday, which is my actual birthday, we invited my parents to come to Apeldoorn. We’ll hang out in a park close by where I grew up and then in the evening we’ll have dinner at a Thai restaurant.

I finally decided today that I do want to celebrate my birthday at the institution after all. I’m going to make cheesecake on Monday and we’re going to have French fries and a snack for dinner then.

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d tell you that I finally used my alcohol inks on a polymer clay project. I made earrings, of course. They’re a bit thick and I later found out my particular brand of alcohol inks isn’t very light-resistant, so the color will probably fade rather easily over time. At least now I know I can use my alcohol inks.

Also, I may get my ears pierced someday. I had my ears pierced in 2001, but wore large silver earrings right after the thingies they shoot into your ears when they pierce them. Thing is, I’m allergic to nickel and silver often contains that, so I got bad inflammation and eventually decided to let the holes close up. Now though I really want to be able to wear earrings again. My assigned staff offered to take me, so that’d be really cool.

How have you been?

TGIF: A Short But Productive Week

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today, I’m joining Paula Light’s #TGIF
once again. Paula writes about this being a short week. I almost forgot about that. I mean, we don’t do Memorial Day here in the Netherlands. We have Veterans’ Day, which I believe is on June 29. However, last Sunday was Pentecost and, as with Easter, the Monday after that is called second Pentecost and is an official holiday too.

My week, despite being short, was productive. On Tuesday, I had a meeting with my behavior specialist and a behavior specialist responsible for a possible new care home (or several, I don’t know). They were purposefully vague about the home(s) this behavior specialist is in charge of. Nonetheless, I think the meeting went quite well.

On Wednesday, I was frustrated all day because my Braille display wouldn’t connect to my PC. I thought the problem was the cable, but it wasn’t. In the end, I found out that I had somehow managed to remove my Braille display from within the screen reader’s settings for default Braille display. My Braille display still doesn’t charge properly, for which a technician will come round on Tuesday.

As of yesterday, I am exercising more than I did last month, because I signed up for two challenges in a fitness app called Challenges. Yesterday, in fact, I burned over 500 active calories according to my Apple Watch. Today I’m not yet there, but I did get in significantly more steps. I don’t want this to become an obsession, so I’m making sure I do other activities too. Like, yesterday I created a polymer clay ice cream cone. I later realized that, because I had used white Premo, it needs to be cured at 135°C, but all the other colors are pretty light Fimo soft, for which 130°C is the maximum temperature (and in fact they often darken at this temperature too). I usually cure a Fimo/Premo combo at 130°C and will this time too, but am pretty sure the Fimo colors will be ruined.

This afternoon, my mother texted me asking whether I’d thought about celebrating my birthday (which is on the 27th). If it’s up to her, she’d like for my parents, my spouse and me to go out for dinner. I discussed it with my spouse, who suggested we go to our favorite chicken restaurant, which is about halfway between my parents and Lobith. Or was about halfway between my parents and Lobith, that is, since when looking it up, I found a different chicken restaurant, closer to my parents (so a longer drive for my spouse) and it turned out our favorite chicken restaurant no longer exists. I’m not yet sure what to do now, but I’ll think on it.

Trust and Trustworthiness

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. Today’s topic for Tranquil Thursday is trust. This topic is relevant to my life in so many ways.

Maggie starts her post with a quote which says that, for there to be betrayal, there has to have been trust first. This hits home quite hard. As someone who was at least partly rejected by my parents from infancy on, I am not sure I even remember what it is like to have had that basic sense of trust babies need. It may be for this reason that I never felt particularly affected when family members passed away. Even with my maternal grandmother, with whom I was quite close, I never even felt a sense of grief.

Then again, I did feel this sense of grief when my former assigned staff back at my old care home left her job at the care agency in July of 2022. She was the first person I’d ever fully trusted in my entire life. There were others at that care home whom I trusted almost as much.

I am pretty sure I’ll never trust a professional ever again. Not because of this staff, mind you, but because of the way the staff here at my current care home handle the relationship they have with us residents. Several staff have left their jobs here without ever saying a word and then I didn’t find out until after they’d left. Yesterday a staff I’d repeatedly talked about this to, left as well and I only found out, from his colleague, at the beginning of his last shift.

You may be wondering where my spouse is in all this. Well, I do trust my spouse not to betray me – in the sense of leaving me, mistreating me, or the like -, but it’s only been over the past few months that I’ve been able to truly be myself around my partner.

I am, generally speaking, a very distrustful person. When someone enters my life, their first impression has to be really good for me to have a positive idea about them and, when they mess up, I feel very easily betrayed.

With respect to being trustworthy myself, I’m not sure. I don’t think I am very trustworthy, but it isn’t intentionally. I mean, often I struggle with distinguishing between safe and unsafe people and in this sense end up putting myself at risk as well as potentially betraying my spouse. I remember one time a fellow patient at the psych hospital offering to hold my hand when guiding me and he commented about our spouses not liking this if they saw it. I up till that point was cool with this man as a peer and I initially didn’t see the signs that I was firstly betraying my spouse and secondly also possibly being groomed.

In addition, I can be quite impulsive and dysregulated. I’ve told my spouse that I’m leaving too many times to count. I understand my spouse sees this as significant betrayal too. I know – and my spouse knows this too – that we are meant for each other, but still it probably comes across quite harsh.

Advice I’d Give My Younger Self

Posted on by Astrid

In today’s Sunday Poser, Sadje asks what advice you’d give your younger self. Like in her case, for me it would be different depending on my age.

For example, I could have advised my twelve-year-old self not to be so loyal to her parents’wish to have her go to mainstream grammar school. However, rebellion in a young adolescent is rarely seen as a positive thing and even much less taken seriously. Preteens are expected to be loyal to their parents.

Besides, as someone who had hardly any social contact outside of the home, I didn’t know what was “normal” other than what I saw in the house – which in hindsight was far from normal.

For this reason, I am not really sure what advice to give my childhood self other than to savor the few friendships she did have.

To my teenage self, I would give the advice of standing up for herself more but in a kind way. Then again, this is basically the advice I’d give any younger version of myself and even present-day me, but I have little idea of how to go about actually doing it. I mean, I feel like I’m a doormat that can be walked over and a bed of nails at the same time.

I wish I could give myself the advice not to let others make decisions for me, but the two times I sort of made the decision to move somewhere on my own initiative, both went horribly wrong: my move to the psych hospital in Wolfheze in 2013 and my move to my current care home. For this reason, I’m still unsure I can trust my own decision-making. In truth, of course, I was misinformed in the latter case and not given enough time to process the decision in the former, so it’s not entirely my fault.

I guess, after all, there’s one piece of advice I’d give my younger self. It’d be for my nineteen-year-old self in April of 2006, when my parents threatened to abandon me because I was delaying going to university for another year in order to prolong my training home stay. The advice I’d give her is to let them have their way and not allow the training home coordinator to mediate. This, after all, led to the training home being pressured to require me to live completely independently and go to university after completing the program, something I never even wanted.

I know it’d take immense courage for me at that age to be disloyal to my parents, but had I been completely honest about my needs back in 2006, I would most likely not have ended up in my current care home now and wouldn’t even have needed as much care as I do now.

A Child Called “Baby”

Posted on by Astrid

Today, Emilia of My Inner MishMash asks us about our name. How do you feel about it? Do you know where yours came from or why your parents picked it?

I probably shared this before. In fact, I did indeed write about this topic in 2019. I didn’t bother to actually look up the post until finishing this one though, so well, here’s the story again through a 2023 lens.

When I was born, my parents didn’t have a name picked for me yet. The reason is the fact that I was born three months prematurely. As a result, for a few hours, the name plate on my incubator read just “Baby”. According to my mother, my father was so displeased with this that he quickly came up with a name (or picked one from the names they’d been discussing among each other). And thus I was named Astrid.

Of course, my parents do have a story of why they named me Astrid. Apparently, I am named after Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. Similarly, my sister was named after Sigrid Undset.

I do like my name, sort of. I like its relative uniqueness. I don’t like the fact that it’s hard to pronounce in English, but I do like the fact that in English-language literature for this reason I hardly come across characters named Astrid. I avoid books when I know they have a character named Astrid in them.

I don’t have a middle name and yet, I always wanted one. As a teen, I’d pick random middle names that bore neither an etymological nor a linguistic similarity to “Astrid”, such as “Elena”. Now if I had to choose a middle name, I’d go with something that also has its origin in northern Europe but is relatively easy to spell and pronounce in Dutch and English, such as “Kirsten”. I liked that one back as a teen too but didn’t use it as often. The name “Kirsten” is Christian in nature though, while “Astrid” has Pagan connotations. However, I don’t really care. The combination might actually signify the importance of the Christ, as the name “Astrid” means something like “beautiful God”.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (December 10, 2022)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. How are you doing? I had my last cup of coffee for the day, but still I want to join in with #WeekendCoffeeShare. I guess you could get a Senseo if you want one, or a cup of tea, or soda. Or you could go for water like I will now. Let’s have a drink and let’s chat.

If we were having coffee, I’d ask you how your weather’s been. It’s been a month since I did a coffee share post and winter has well and truly arrived by now. Daytime temperatures hardly get above 0°C, although we don’t get very low night-time temperatures. Thankfully, despite the cold, I’ve been able to go on walks everyday, as it’s not been raining that much.

If we were having coffee, I would share that I finally reached breaking point here at the new care home last week and my mother-in-law called the home to get to speak to a higher-up, either the behavior specialist or the manager. She was told that I’d had a good day that day. While that was mostly true, it wasn’t about that day. My mother-in-law then contacted the mediator I had been in touch with too. She is independent and helps advocate for clients or family members but is paid for by the care agency.

After a week of playing phone tag, the mediator finally got in touch with the manager and was able to convince her to schedule a meeting between me, the mediator herself, a staff and the behavior specialist. This will most likely take place before Christmas, so the staff who will be attending won’t be my support coordinator, as she’s off on vacation till after then. I did ask that my mother-in-law be invited too, which the mediator initially didn’t feel would be appropriate. Her reasoning was that it’d be too many people attending and that she (mediator) would be there to support me already. However, the mediator is not able to realize how much I’m not able to process during a verbal conversation, so I stood my ground.

If we were having coffee, I would share that, earlier this week, one of the staff and I were able to create a new, more suitable to me day schedule. It was (unofficially) started today (while we’re waiting for the staff to type it out). The new schedule is organized around timeframes, like my day schedule at the old care home, but of course with the note that these are rough directions. I am quite satisfied with my first day using the new day schedule, but of course I do realize that it may only be 2 1/2 weeks before it will be trashed by my support coordinator.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I am loving spending time on my polymer clay again. I am not getting my hopes up yet, but, in my new day schedule, I have lots of opportunities for claying. I made use of them today and created my first actual unicorn! Granted, it doesn’t have a mane or tail yet, because with the particular tutorial I used, you had to bake the unicorn and then attach those parts and bake again. I am hoping to do that tomorrow. I however am completely excited about crafting again. Now all please pray my new day schedule works out and my support coordinator won’t trash it when she comes back.

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d tell you all that I got some lovely presents in the mail from my parents on Thursday. I got a lavender-filled unicorn soft toy that can be heated in the microwave. I also got three different kinds of candy: chocolate, licorice and so-called Dutch traditional candy, which was hard candy. I loved all of them. The online shop also sent a few random samples of a sugar soap, so-called immune boosting capsules and some kind of fruit and veggie powder that you need to put into water and drink. I threw these away. So far, I haven’t actually microwaved the unicorn, but I did hold it when trying to sleep.