Apologies for rapid fire of posts…last one was written yesterday, but one thing I’ve learned is to document the GOOD as much as the BAD.
The secret? perspective. A different one.
One that is higher.
One that allows you fo float. Above it all. Only there could I see the beauty, only there I can understand what is happening to me.
I just had to get higher.
Up Up Up.
Today was an adventure. I went into the city to start a new type of PTSD therapy. This one involves getting high. Ketamine to be exact. Straight up.
I sat in the office as I took the drug. They took my vitals. They had me walk one foot in front of another. I, of course, aced all these games. Getting high is something I excel at. This I can do. Want me to receite the alphabet backwards? You name. I can do it. Doubtful that there is a high that I have not tried. Doubtful that there would be any change. Pretty sure that whatever they give normal people I would require double.
And I was disappointed.
The result? Sad and high. That wasn’t the relief I prayed for. Now I can cry and be depressed while feeling loopy, great. Thanks doc.
But I was told to wait, it will take a few hours.
And a few hours after I found myself on a helicopter. Steve surprised me in my depression with the gift of not sitting in traffic for 3 hours to get home to my children while high on drugs.
So I got to go even higher.
Up in the sky. And as we got higher, I got calmer. All of a sudden breathing felt easier.
And I could see it all. The buildings, the trees, higher and higher. And I saw myself. My PTSD is not out of no where. Nope my body is keeping score.
I had a cancer scare a few weeks ago. They “found something.” And when I was told after 2 monograms that they would need to do a biospy. I had ZERO reaction. ZERO. My only question was “is this time sensitive? I have a lot of work things coming up.”
I was not nervous. I did not cry. I had zero fears about it. Steve was nervous. He was nervous that I wasn’t nervous. But I wasn’t. I swear. Not for one second. I saw others get nervous. But I was calm. Why should we worry about something we can’t control? If it’s cancer, we will deal with it. I was impressed with myself. I had achieved some state of nirvana. I was unflappable.
I walked into the biopsy and asked if I can work during it? And that I did. I read an article on depression in Gen Z while getting my biopsy.
And it turned out to be nothing. I left that biospy and went straight back to work. Steve was relieved, my family relieved, and I felt so smart- see all that worrying didn’t help you. I am way ahead of you all.
I was totally in control.
until I wasn’t.
Until the blue wave came and swept me up. While in the wave, you can’t see which way is up. Just a whirl of water. It felt like it just kidnapped me. It felt out of the blue.
But up high those waves felt small. Like little hills. And they didn’t sweep the pebble, but the pebble went for a ride.
Maybe the pebble took some ketamine too.
Thankful for the height.
Thankful for the perspective, one that is a bit brighter.
Will report back soon on this therapy cancer moms out there. I will be your guinea pig.
But so far…I’m out of bed.