Tear drops of self control

I found myself on the receiving end of a violent tirade this week. The person was so angry he was unwilling and truly unable to hear anything that came from mouth, including an apology for a misunderstanding. He confronted me in an exhibit of pure rage including threats of harm to my wellbeing. I sat in my chair, and without hesitation, didn’t move. My hands placed securely on the arms of the chair, my body relaxed, and my face void of emotion. And I sat, and I received his yelling and threats, and I absorbed his emotion, and I resisted the urge to respond, and I refused to engage, escalate, enrage. And when he finished or maybe realized I was not going to respond, he left. This is the most desirable less likely outcome. This could have had many endings, which no doubt would have included me returning to a version of myself for which I have so worked to control. I understand these situations are as much about myself as they are the perpetrator. The work I have invested into making myself a “kinder gentler” version of myself has been a lifelong process. To understand and adhere to a strict doctrine of conflict resolution that is based on nonviolence. I believe this is part of my destiny, to restore some type of balance in my life and the community.  

After he left I was consumed with emotion. . I took a deep breath and began the process of de-escalating myself.  My hands shook, my face was flush, adrenaline rushed through my body, and tears ran out of the corner of eyes. Tear drops of self control.

 

Have a Blessed week, I have...

B

The person I was...

So I haven’t written in two weeks as I have had a lot going on in my day to day life. Spring brings a whole bunch of projects that have been put off all winter, yard work, etc.

 I had the privilege to read through my probation record, which one of my good friends was able to get out of storage for me to look through. It was hard to read. It tells the story of a young man trying in every way to destroy himself. A story that if read aloud, the narrator and audience would surely believe that the main character would not make it, doomed to either spend his entire life in institutions or death. To read what professionals thought of my wellbeing, my behavior, my attitude, repeated arrests, failed treatment episodes and interventions, to read what people outside of my world tried to put the pieces together of what I can only describe in reflection as pure inner and outer chaos. My prognosis was not good. I was not going to make it. And yet here I am. And if I think about, which I do daily, I don’t understand why. Why did I get so lucky? Why did my higher power pick me to save? I know that I am truly blessed. The majority of those with my background rarely make it. I knew that then. I knew that the odds, statistics, the professionals, didn’t believe I would make it, that I would come out the other side. At the very core of my soul I wanted a different life, I am still motivated by this. I am still working on making myself a better person, and a better life. There is little perfection in this. If I am honest with myself and others I can and am able to recognize when I stray from the course and correct it. I thank God daily for my existence. I hope when this journey comes to end that others will reflect on my life and be proud of where I have come from and what I have achieved. Although I sometimes have to be reminded, I know that I am.

B

resiliency, trauma, and a history of violence

Sometimes I attend training's to improve my work skills and more often than not, leave learning something about myself and why I do certain things. This week I attended a training session on trauma informed care, one the current “buzz” words in the treatment profession at the moment and learned a lot about who I use to be. One of the sessions addressed how to work with someone who is “flooding” or having adrenaline overload. This really hit home as I used to be pre-wired with a high level of adrenaline, a way to keep vigilant and be on my best defense to protect myself. Many people inquire about my apparent calm, laid back disposition and I have never been able to explain it in a clinical way. This has taken an immense amount of work on myself, to let go of those things which trigger adrenaline flooding, conflict in any way.  The most upset or adrenaline charged I have felt was a couple years ago when someone confronted me in a parking lot, he thumped me on the chest when he was talking in a “put down” way. I was able to defuse myself and walk away. The adrenaline rushed through my body so strongly that my hands were shaking. I was threatened, I felt unsafe, and I wanted to put my hands around his neck. This is one of the greatest things I have accomplished through my recovery, letting go of conflict and the ability to diffuse myself. I was not always like this even in recovery. I recall many times getting into physical altercations, as a result of escalating verbal disagreements. Confronting others unnecessarily because I felt disrespected, challenged, or had my feelings hurt. I have a history of violence and I was raised in an environment full of conflict, violence, and trauma. This is how I was built. This is not something I am proud of and something that I work on and manage on a daily basis.

B

http://conflictunraveled.com/vt_wp/?page_id=887

so my work is back from the museum and for sale on tumblr....http://bradleybullock.tumblr.com/

A return to space travel

A return to space travel

2 weeks ago I slipped and fell getting out of the bath, landing face first into the edge of the toilet. I instantly had a ridiculous black eye accompanied by a gash in my eye brow. This is not the first time in my life that my face had looked as though I was hit with a brick truck, a sack of hammers, or 1000 fists. I minimized the damage done and went on with life. But I was not okay. I was advised repeatedly to get an MRI and continued to minimize and avoid recognition that something could be wrong. I slowly started noticing that my perception and vision started to waver. I wrote this off as a possible concussion and continued on. This past weekend, the ground became “un solid” and I fell in a parking lot, again chalking it up as something slick that I fell on. Every day, I have had episodes of dizziness, impaired vision, and lack of coordination and balance.   Every day I have briefly entered “space”. I had left earth and entered a new frontier and whoa was it uncomforting. I have not been under the influence of mind altering chemicals for a long time and have really disassociated myself from the delusion of intoxication. This ongoing condition, for which I have minimized, came to a head yesterday as my ship for outer space finally launched into the unknown. I found myself in a grocery store believing that if I could get some food in my body, my condition would improve. I stumbled through the isles walking on what seemed like an ocean of waves. I held tightly to the shelves till I found a bench to sit on to find my bearings. I kept telling myself over and over to “not lie down in the isle and hug the floor”, “these people will think I am on drugs and call the police”.  I was travelling through space. I had left the earth as I knew it and was a new place where nothing was real and way out of balance.  I made it out of the store and to another bench; tears began to run down my face, I was scared. I was scared. To make a long story short, I am suffering from Post-Concussion Syndrome, and have been placed on medication to help restore my balance and perception. Again and again I was told that I should have come to the E.R. sooner, that I should not have minimized, that I need to remain grounded, and on the planet earth. These feelings are almost directly related to those I was experienced as consumer of mind altering chemicals including alcohol. After the last 2 weeks I can’t believe I used to make myself feel this way on purpose. 

All though these past 2 weeks have been a strange trip, I feel good to be back on the planet, and my space suit has been returned, for today.
B

Grey Area

Grey area-an area or part of something existing between two extremes and having mixed characteristics of bothTonight I observed a treatment group around the topic of Locus of Control. The conversation moved into a discussion of how most people choose to live daily in a place described as the “grey area”. I don’t want to go into an explanation of Locus of Control theory; a Google search will get you what you need. I want to discuss the ever present “grey area” and why so many find comfort there, the key word being comfort. We as humans find comfort rewarding. We like routines and schedules. Our days are planned from the minute our alarms go off in the morning to moment we close our eyes to end the day. We assign value to the monotonous, routine, daily “grind” of our existence. We have technology at every turn to make our lives easier, more scheduled, and more manageable. We slowly turn our lives into existence. We live in the grey area. We live here because it is easy. ( note to reader…I feel like I am way out of my normal range of conversation here, but hang with me and you will see where I’m going!) I am not sure I can explain the true mundane state I am getting at, but I think you can get, I am trying to describe the get up at same time, eat breakfast, got to work, come home, eat dinner, watch t.v., and go to bed type of thing. Day in, day out. Doing the same thing over and over. We do this. We are taught that this is being responsible, dependable, etc. So why am I talking about this and what does it have to do with me? There are many who believe that this type of life can be detrimental to someone in recovery. That living life as existing is the equivalent of being stagnant and that those in recovery do not make if stagnant. Sure having you time planned out is important and being responsible and dependable are important practices for anyone especially those in recovery. The stagnation, the grey area, affects the mental, the emotional, and the spiritual. And these areas need constant stimulation and maintenance. The grey area becomes the danger zone. I believe this to be true about myself. I need to be out of my comfort zone. I need to experience a range of emotions. I like to laugh and appreciate the ability to be sad and cry. I feel as though I am in touch with my emotions and I am not embarrassed with them. This has not always been the case. I went to extreme measures to hide, bury, and destroy those very parts of myself. I was not comfortable with who I was and how I felt.  I wanted to hide in the grey area forever. To disappear. The problem is I could not exist in the grey area, I could not grow and what does not grow eventually dies. I am not always comfortable with this, and some days I want to hide from the world, live in the grey area where I may not be noticed. But I can’t. I have to face the world; I have to deal with the world on its terms. This is where I grow. I do things daily which keep me out of the grey area. I create artwork, I spend time with others, I watch movies, read books, write this blog, and the list goes on and on. I understand the grey area, I get it. For me it is not a healthy place. I need to grow. I need to experience new things. I need to be emotional. I need to assess and maintain my spiritual well-being. I need to mix up my schedules and make life enjoyable even when it’s hard.B  

In search of a magic wand

Many people have asked me a plethora questions surrounding my recovery and its maintenance. I have told parts of “my story” to hundreds of people; from judges, teachers, probation officers, school teachers, counselors, prisoners, teenagers, and friends. I wish sometimes I could fix people, fix myself. I recently was discussing the differences in substance abuse and mental health issues. The feeling that if you correct a behavior you can “fix” many issues around substance abuse, however mental health issues are sometimes equivalent to being a broken person who cannot be “fixed”.  I was told by someone after last week’s post, that sharing my mental health issues was something I was not supposed to do, something you should keep to yourself. Which left me thinking, why do we have to live in the shadows? How has society and even the profession of mental health played into or perpetrated this shame. We know the inherent relationship between substance abuse and mental health and for many years the two have been segregated in treatment and approach. This is of course is not true across the board, both in practice and individual.

Is drug addiction a mental illness?

Yes, because addiction changes the brain in fundamental ways, disturbing a person's normal hierarchy of needs and desires and substituting new priorities connected with procuring and using the drug. The resulting compulsive behaviors that override the ability to control impulses despite the consequences are similar to hallmarks of other mental illnesses.-Nora D. Volkow, M.D.Director
National Institute on Drug Abuse

 I do not have the answers. What I do know is that through living one day at a time I am able to work on being a better person. Most days I am not perfect, however I have the capacity to acknowledge my wrongs and attempt to make amends. I have little desire to use drugs or alcohol, but I struggle daily to deal with life on life’s terms. I believe in the tenants of recovery and the work it requires to achieve and maintain. I know with all my heart that my higher power has chosen a path for me, a different path I was on at one time. I know that I am a recovering drug addict and alcoholic and that I have mental health disorders. I sometimes feel like a person who is broken but I know that if I submit myself to a program of recovery and work on myself daily, my life is manageable. Unfortunately there is no magic wand.
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