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Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness

~ Recovery from PTSD & depression + yoga, silliness & poetry…

Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness

Tag Archives: Accident

I’m not a tibia

06 Tuesday Apr 2010

Posted by Svasti in Life

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Accident, amputation, India, Reality

Here comes reality – can you dig it? A friend of mine lost the lower part of her left leg a couple of months back, and was actually very lucky she didn’t lose her life. In India, which has been her second home for the longest time until a truck almost tore her to pieces and four surgeries later, there are the photos on Facebook to prove it (just recently posted)… nurses in white sari-style uniforms and swamis at her bedside along with many ex-pat friends and family (she’s back in Australia now).

But in all those photos, looking fragile and vulnerable as she is, my friend is still radiant, serene and peaceful. She’s cool with what is and she’s surfing those waves of reality right into the shore. She’ll probably try to hop as far as she can when she gets there too, before eventually falling over in the sand giggling at the fun she’s just had.

How well can you deal, folks? How much can you accept and remain steady of mind and heart? What if, like my friend, you could no longer do what you’ve always assumed was your birthright and part of what makes you who (think) you are? Like, on a permanent basis, not just for a while?

Pre-assault, I think if something like that had’ve happened to me, I would’ve wanted to die. But maybe something like that DID happen to me, just in different packaging? In any case, I see that my natural response to her situation is quite different than it would’ve been perhaps five-plus years ago.

Like, right now I’m thinking about a possible asana series for the one-legged (seated and floor asana, with some balancing) and encouraging her to plan a trip to our retreat center in Thailand. I am sorry my friend was injured but I don’t mourn for her lost limb. Perhaps it’s because of where I’ve been on my own journey. And/or perhaps because she doesn’t, AND also, because who she is does not reside in those toes, that calf muscle, Achilles tendon, sinews, blood vessels or that tibia or fibula.

She is not lessened. She is not without. If anything, with less surface space to stretch out in, the very essence of her being radiates more intensely than ever before… and she is glorious.

~Svasti

-37.814251 144.963169

After-burn

30 Saturday Jan 2010

Posted by Svasti in Post-traumatic stress

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Accident, disassociation, Emergency Essence, fury that looks like fear, passenger dominos, physiological traces, Post-traumatic stress, PTSD, Satay Chicken Dinner Box, Trams, trauma response

So I’m riding the number 64 tram home from work, just like I do any other day when I’m not cycle-commuting. It’s the end of the week and okay, it hasn’t been the best day ever, but it’s cool… and now it’s time to go home.

I’ve been on the tram for no more than five minutes when it starts breaking quite jerkily. There’s not much to grab hold of coz the tram is packed – every seat taken and those of us standing are just a few degrees off feeling like sardines. Skin touching if you move a smidge to the left or right.

Within microseconds I’m flying, almost horizontally really. So is every other standing passenger. The tram driver it seems, failed to notice a red light and at the last possible moment slammed on the brakes. The resulting game of passenger dominos roughly throws us all a couple of meters forwards.

Nothing I attempt to hold onto works out. A multitude of thoughts race by… oh no… what’s happening… I can’t stop myself from falling… is this going to hurt… there are people falling on top of me… there’s nothing to grab hold of… oh no…

It is only when the tram stops lurching that we mid-flight passengers land ungracefully and mostly on top of each other. My phone, which had been in my hand, is now on the floor and in pieces. Luckily not too many pieces and it can be put back together. When I manage to stand upright, I’m in a completely different section of the tram.

The haze of shock sets in.

The driver does not apologise. Does not check to see if anyone is okay. The tram keeps moving but much more carefully now.

I am not okay. I’m not sure if anyone else is hurt, but I’m too dazed and angry to find out. My already manky shoulder (luckily I have a physio appointment next Tuesday) is throbbing. My neck and lower back are sore.

I’m asked if I’m okay by a woman and her family. Passengers with seats, lucky things. The woman standing next to me and I are both having separate conversations about what just happened – she, on her phone (she’d helped collect the pieces of mine), and I with the family. The woman says that from her window seat she saw the red light, and how he didn’t even try to break until the last moment. It’s not as though a red light happens without warning.

Indeed.

They get off the tram a couple more stops down and I gratefully take one of their seats. I know I’m going to report this and ah… I can see the tram number, an individual identifier. I check the time… yeah, it happened just after 6pm. Along with the route number that should be enough information for the complaint I’m going to make.

Everything feels a little surreal. I make it to my stop and walk home unevenly. I feel the strain in my body – that always happens in a fall because our muscles futilely brace for impact.

It’s done. I’ve called Yarra Trams and explained very calmly. Yes please, I’d like someone to call me back and tell me what happened as a result of my complaint. No, I’m not sure if I’ll need medical treatment for the pain in my body, I’ll let you know. Okay, thanks for the reference number, I’ll write it down.

Done. And yet not.

Seems that trauma leaves physiological traces not just in the brain but also in the body. Oh…

I remember a little now. Yeah, this is what it was like. I can never remember properly afterwards, the same way you can’t quite recall how painful it was when you broke your arm. You know it wasn’t good, but the details escape you.

Until something happens to open the floodgates. I’m teary. But I don’t realise this, until I’ve been sitting in the dark for about three hours. Tears yes… and fury that looks like fear. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t done anything. Oh right, that disassociation thing… I stop feeling normal at all.

But I am okay. I know that. I know I didn’t die, I didn’t hit my head. I am not seriously injured, but it was close. Another half a meter and I might’ve hit my head on something upright and made of metal. But I am safe now.

And yet I start to hate everything. My body leads the revolt with memories of how it used to respond. Ah… the after-burn of PTSD thanks very much.

Mostly, my mind is not engaged at all in what’s going on. There’s so many reactions and responses going on. Things that make me wary of loud noises. Things that make me move very slowly. Things that keep the tears coming even though there’s nothing to cry about, really.

But it doesn’t stop. I take some homeopathic Emergency Essence (designed for treating shock). Actually I take several times the dose. And I head out on my bike to double check that the world isn’t still trying to kill me.

It’s late, but I find food and I wander around in an attempt to recalibrate my mind. But even once I’m back home eating my Satay Chicken Dinner Box, I’m not okay. See, these things always take time. More Emergency Essence before bed.

Sleep was fragmented and awful at best. And today I am all aches and pains with a side dish of trembling like a leaf.

It shouldn’t be that hard. Yes, the tram driver was a dickhead and I’ve done all I can in that regard. And I am okay, really.

And it’s been almost a year since the worst of my PTSD symptoms vamoosed. Yet a small and relatively harmless incident like this breathes life into the trace elements of my trauma response.

Luckily, I live with a yoga teacher and I hear she’s kinda okay at sorting out physical aches and pains. I’ll find some time for all of that later. Right now I have to go and do family stuff for my sister’s birthday. I’m bringing the cake. And there will be niece cuddles.

And I will be okay eventually…

~Svasti

-37.814251 144.963169

Crash

15 Sunday Mar 2009

Posted by Svasti in Depression, Life Rant

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Accident, Anxiety, Bike stack, Confusion, Crash, Depression, EMDR, Fear, Gravel rash, Injuries, Intuition, Mojo, Panic attacks, super powers, Unemployed

Been in a funny little funk this week. And its made it hard to write, damnit. Which really doesn’t help matters.

Where there’s movement after a long period of stagnation, often what you get is the discovery of more stuff to deal with. You couldn’t see it before coz there was so much else in the way…

Fell off my bike the weekend before this one. Took a major tumble. I’ve mentioned my clumsiness before… Somehow though, I managed to not break any bones, trash my clothing, and I didn’t wreck my bike. Overall, it was a pretty successful stack (Aussie term for fall/crash).

Returning from my yoga studies course, I was travelling on the footpath (which I don’t do a lot, but this was a busy road), and probably going just a touch too fast (ahem, when would I do that??). So when the broken footpath came into view, it was too late to avoid it. Just beyond this nasty piece of trouble was dirt – not helpful when you’re trying not to skid.

I could see what was gonna happen, and so I called on possibly the only super-power I actually do have… the ability to think clearly as I fall, and do what I can to minimise the end result.

As in, make sure my fingers aren’t in bad places, don’t try to break the fall with an outstretched hand (which can result in broken wrists) and try to relax as much as possible. The opposite of ‘bracing for impact’. Also, I threw myself off my bike, knowing I didn’t really want a handle bar or any other part lodged firmly against my ribs, for example.

‘Course, that doesn’t mean that I got off scot-free. Hardly! As I lay there fully stretched out on my belly, arms in front of me… trying to asses if I was okay, a lovely, well-meaning dude (himself a cyclist) came over to see if I was alright. But then, without warning tried to lift me to my feet, grabbing me under the shoulders while standing in front of me, causing my back to arch upwards… Don’t do that, please, I begged.

He looked offended, but I explained, I need to get up a little more gently. And y’know, its handy to understand if someone is really injured or not, before hauling them up by the shoulders! Rolling to one side and sitting up was much more ideal, once adrenaline stopped pumping so hard and I could start to feel the extent of my injuries.

Thank goodness for cycling gloves, is all I could think while inspecting the trashed palms of my gloves (grateful it wasn’t my hands). Elbows didn’t fair so well, though. The day was warm and I was dressed in an orange North Face t-shirt, not really ideal for cycling (though tempting when you think you’re invincible on a warm day).

Oh yes, it wasn’t pretty.

It was gravel rash.

Both elbows and knees, and my stomach. Found out later I was also gifted with a bruised boob. Ouch!

Left elbow was the worst. But both were nicely mashed up. Blood, dirt, tiny pebbles. Profusely stinging.

And what was that? My left shoulder was putting in a serious complaint. Didn’t have time to think about it too much, coz I was in danger of fainting.

The nice old guy checked my bike was okay and seeing I wasn’t in need of emergency treatment, directed me to a nearby seat. Which I needed, to catch my breath and make sure I was okay.

I needed to regroup if I was gonna cycle another five kilometers home.

Almost there, I dragged my bruised and battered self into the pharmacy conveniently placed on the road home… got pain killers and bandages and stuff from a very unsympathetic looking pharmacist.

Luckily as I said, nothing broken. I did wonder though, where my hot male nurse was… the one who shoulda been there to pick up the pieces!

So, anyway. Here I am, just finished a course of EMDR therapy. I’ll go and see my therapist again in a month. Just to see how things are going.

But on top of the physical meshing of body against pavement… there’s been another sort of crash.

Or, perhaps the best word is… panic.

No job. Again. No income. Limited stores of cash that won’t last forever. The job market is D-E-A-D and I’m not even getting a nibble from applications I’ve sent in! Doom and gloom on the news, unemployment’s jumped x%. Whatever skills I have, they’re only useful as long as there’s demand for them…

But there’s actually a bunch of work in my field in Sydney right now. So what am I doing here, anyway? In Melbourne? With nothing really going for me? The only thing that’s actually working for me here, is my yoga course. The whole move-to-Melbourne-and-become-closer-to-my-family thing was a wash. Of course, there’s my beautiful nieces.

But they aren’t my life. That’s my sister’s family, not mine. As for me? I’m trying to get my life back on track, fighting really hard for that and… its one thing after another.

Not to mention… my mojo has vanished! That little light of intuition, voices in my head that talk to me, tell me stuff… well, its been radio silence almost all of the last couple of weeks.

So what the heck am I doing again? Do I actually have a point, here? I’m not so sure about that right now…

That panic attack it seems, was just waiting for a clearing to have its turn. And so I couldn’t write. Couldn’t do anything much, especially in the last week… and I’m not feeling pulled in any one direction or the other. Nothing to guide me. Nothing.

And that’s where I am, still.

Got ordered out of the house on Friday by a friend… which helped but still, I’m not cool with all this nothingness. Though as a yogini, I darn well should be!

I know, I know. I’m still healing, moving on from demons of the past. Licking my wounds. Give myself a break. Yaadayaadayaada…

~Svasti

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