EMDR

If anyone stumbles upon this, there is a serious backstory. So much backstory.
I've written, and can upload gently.

This is my raw reflection of experiencing EMDR, which is an offered treatment for people who have had a traumatic experience and are showing some rather serious symptoms of PTSD.
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EMDR

Day 1:

I have 20 minutes to reflect on how today went before I pick up my daughter, so this is going to be an actual jumble and unplanned deluge of words.

I was terrified. Didn‘t really realize that I would be terrified, but I really really did not want to have to be smashed in the face with bad memories. I like my therapist. I don’t really think that he would purposefully force me to relive some terrible memories. It was scary enough just knowing that we would be talking about them.

So the diagnosis of PTSD was, surprisingly, a surprise. I looked at the score, and then the scoring sheet and saw how high it was and my reaction was, “Oh, shit.” This wasn’t good. Of course I want to address an issue like this. It isn’t healthy. Sure, I can reflect now and it makes sense that I’m not entirely coping. Mostly because I really don’t like hearing about pregnancy, babies, and especially birth.
Okay. I don’t want to talk about it.

So I walked in. I’ve been breaking out all week, anticipating today would be confronting and rather unpleasant. EMDR sounds experimental. I haven’t read all of the research, just a brief and realise that there isn’t a lot behind it. It’s a matter of taking traumatic memories and re-categorizing them so they can be processed and triggered or recalled under more appropriate circumstances, rather than all of the time. That’s what I got out of it. I like that it’s more of a subliminal message shooting through the brain, a way for the subconscious to acknowledge and process, because apparently that didn’t happen the first time.

Fair.
I walk in nervous. I sit down. My hands are dry. I’m dry. I know it’s a good thing. Whatever, my heart is beating and I’m not enjoying this so far.
The therapist lets me calm down. Lighter conversation. Distraction. Talk about our relationship with parents. I appreciate the distraction.
I say, “I’m nervous,” and those stupid emotions choke up again because I really, strongly dislike ever feeling vulnerable. I don’t know why my eyes start burning even when I think about thinking about a bad memory. How ridiculous.

So I change seats, as requested. Think about a happy place. Like a literal happy place. I’ve never been great at these visualisations, but willing to give it a good honest shot. Someone on Reddit had shared a calming fantasy about going through a forest, finding a lake and diving in deeper and deeper until coming to an enclosure/bubble with the most comfortable bed and everything needed. That was a nice thought, so I went with it. Okay. So now I’m visualising someone else’s bubble. But it has to feel like my bubble.

His hand is moving back and forth and I’m supposed to follow this with my eyes, as though my eyes are pushing the fingers back and forth. It is a bit dizzying, but I suspect that could be part of it. We start talking about this bubble. What do I see? Follow the movements. What do I feel? Follow the movements. What emotions? Words?

I’m afraid I am not very good at this and it’s going to take some practice. He asks about how I’m feeling or what I’m experiencing now and I don’t know what to say, because it feels a bit silly but I don’t want it to feel silly. I want this to be the most helpful experience and I have to embrace it.  But it’s still someone elses bubble. I haven’t practiced. I should have practiced. How could I have practiced, though, because I had no idea what was coming.

So we’re visualising this bubble, feeling happy and content and heavy and calm and clear and peaceful and sweet. Visualise relaxing and what are you doing. I’m clenching something soft. “Sorry, I don’t know why that’s there”.  “What are you thinking about?” “Practicing pilates in Burma when the teacher used to say to push the thoughts out of our heads”. I’m totally messing this up. But it’s got to become my happy place, so I best own it.

If I want to recall this happy, safe place then we come up with a word to recall it. The first word I like was “peace” but then I kept hearing him say “piece” and I’m off topic again. Maybe I’ll ask to change it to peaceful or clear. I like the word clear.

It wasn’t a bad place to start. I was asked to recall some mild annoyances and I felt those creep up the back of my spine, and then let the peaceful bubble place relax me to push those bad feelings back down. That was interesting. Physically feeling the stress.  Now I realize that I carry stress in my shoulders.

So I want to build that mental exercise of developing that happy little enclave. And I want to practice recalling this using those buzz words that popped up in my brain, however I refer to that place.  That needs to get stronger. And I want to be able to run away to that little place whenever the crap starts to creep in.

And here I was thinking that I was doing so well.