Desperation, Frustration….a little rant


It’s been a long time since I’ve written.  Life can really get in the way of being able to see ANYTHING!  What does life look like for Katy right now?

  1. Diagnosed with 3 autoimmune diseases.  Able to manage one with diet.  The other 2 are apparently managed with medications, one is prednisone the other hydroxychloriquine.  Prednisone can’t be long-term, causes crazy bruising and causes other health concerns, finished my second course and now it’s out of my system and all symptoms have come back.  Hydroxychloriquine takes months to work, and that’s if it decides to work.
  2. Daily symptoms: extraordinary pain in my feet, burning pins and needles with swelling, swollen painful hands, headaches, low back pain, body shaking uncontrollably from the inside out, insomnia, mood swings, brain fog and confusion, ringing in my ears, fatigue, low blood pressure, dizziness and abdominal pain.
  3. Recently had to move because our landlord decided to sell our house AFTER we signed another 4 year lease agreement.  Have to love the little clauses in a lease.
  4. Husband’s employer decided to reorganize their departments, which left him out of employment, so we lost our health insurance.  We also lost our church, our second home and a lot of our community.  A churches words on stage only run that deep, integrity doesn’t always run deep behind the closed doors of the church.  I haven’t lost my faith in God, but I have in the people who teach it.  Yes they are also human and sin and make mistakes, but actions speak louder than words.
  5. New health insurance is crap and beyond expensive, so I’ve lost my psychologist and psychiatrist, back to a conglomerate healthcare system that has the WORSE mental health department.
  6. Just had the one year anniversary of my brothers tragic death, which is still so fresh I can’t even touch the surface of speaking about it.

I’m done with seeing and experiencing all of this.  Who gets me through it?  God.  I know He has a plan for us and everything we are going through, I know there is a light and I am seeing glimmers of it in the distance.  But-it feels so far away and hard to catch up to.  I want to feel energy again, unity, pain-free, confident and directed.  Instead I feel slow, alone, pained, uncertain and reeling with desperation.

One step at a time, one day at a time, one prayer at a time…it’ll all come back.  Yet my patience runs thin.

Psalm 23: The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.  He restores my soul; He guides me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

CPTSD You Are My B*tch!


What if we obeyed Jesus, our commander? If you just read that question and shuttered because you don’t believe in Jesus or the church somehow wronged you in your past; PLEASE DON’T STOP READING THIS. Please hang in there with me as the following is about a man who didn’t believe in God or Jesus either. We were taught about this in church last weekend and it made a huge impact on me. The title of this post came to me in church. Yes I’m a Pastors wife and yes my language is foul, but I promised to always be real in this blog and not try to be what people “think” I “should” be.

So if you’re still with me and ready to read more, please read the following passage. Then I’ll explain.


Matthew 8

The Faith of the Centurion

When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help.“Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”

Jesus said to him, “Shall I come and heal him?”

The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

10 When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. 11 I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. 12 But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

13 Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that moment.  


Are you still with me? If so, thank you! I promise I’m not trying to sell Jesus to you or convert you, just telling MY story and experience. 

Basically the centurion had faith in himself to know that when he took command of his soldiers and gave them orders…they listened. Any soldier today in the military, they follow the orders of their Commander In Chief, they don’t do this just because they really like their commander, they do it because they have “brothers” in their unit whom they would die for. These soldiers took an oath and they learned physical and mental discipline that would blow any civilians mind.  If you go against the commander it puts all soldiers at risk of injury or death. The bond built between these “brothers in arms” is unbreakable. 

I chose God as my Commander In Chief on November 11, 2009. I’m  a terrible soldier of God, my faith in Him lacks daily. When I had my most recent CPTSD relapse I closed myself in and DID NOT seek God’s comfort nor direction. My faith went straight out the door. With all honesty it will falter again and again, not because he sucks as my commander. It’s because I have trust issues, control issues, I don’t like being a follower and I hate rules. I’m not a good soldier in Christ.

Going to our regular Sunday morning service last weekend was my first time back in 3 weeks. Why is it every time I go the teaching is ALWAYS about what I’m struggling with? Do my Pastors know me so well they’re actually speaking to me? The answer is no they don’t know me well at all, but they know God and Jesus and they teach truth from the bible. I found a fire and a strength in me that morning I hadn’t felt in months. Jesus answered that centurion’s request not because the centurion was a loyal follower of Christ, it was because he had confidence knowing his soldiers so well. Not arrogance…but confidence…FAITH! Strong faith in his soldiers and Jesus was amazed by that. 

I refuse to break and let CPTSD run my life for another 30 years, I refuse to put my faith in knowing it’s going to return again and again…CPTSD doesn’t own me! I own it and I will break it and it will be my bitch! Why? Because I have God on my side, I have his strength inside me, I have a fire in me much like a soldier charging into enemy territory.  I know I have to take this fight slow and gently, because the trauma on me was aggressive and fierce. I have to nourish my soul as I take on this enemy and kick it’s ass. 

I have been meditating an armor of God’s strength around me daily. I’m practicing a bilateral soft tapping to calm my anxiety. I’m getting ready to engage in battle by use of EMDR against the stalker trauma. I’m scared as hell, anxious…but ready. I’m going to own its ass and make it my bitch. This is my war effort against my mental health disability. My faith is in my fight against it and I will win

Migraines After CPTSD Emotional Release


Until this past year I hadn’t experienced many migraines and I certainly never put two and two together for their cause. In the past I’ve had chronic pain associated with severe depressive episodes, I grind my teeth when sleeping during high stress moments which causes jaw pain and broken teeth and gone through chronic fatigue syndrome right after traumatic events.

It’s been proven by medicine that pain is typically a side effect of emotional trauma.2  What I hadn’t known nor anticipated were the crippling migraines that would follow after working through a severe past emotional trauma. At this point I can’t count the total migraines I’ve had this year, which seems bad, but it’s actually a good thing in my eyes. It tells me that I’m really working hard to get through the really tough shit buried deep in my thalamus4. Those memories that I thought I had moved through before are clearly coming out in my psychology sessions. I’m  seeing a correlation though, it’s typically associated with crying.

The crying isn’t a cry like an unfairness, anger or physical pain directed at me.  It’s a cry that comes from deep within my soul, that bellows out of me like a grief I had never experienced before. A grief I didn’t know existed until my brother traumatically died this past year from a hiking accident. That loss alone has destroyed me this year and I can’t put into words what it’s like losing him. My own mothers death wasn’t this painful. But I can’t get into his death just yet on my blog, it’s too fresh and too painful.

The grief I felt and still feel losing him, is like the grief I feel when I finally open that closed trauma that I thought I had worked through. Opening that door again and touching that emotion again from the trauma is kicking my ass. My psychiatrist calls it a “body memory”, where my body is helping me process the emotional pain and it’s literally hitting me with physical pain.

After some trips to the emergency room in the evening, trips to my doctor’s office during the day..I finally put the two and two together. The downfall for me is that the migraine is not caused by dilated blood vessels, therefore typical migraine3 medications don’t work for me. The other option is a narcotic, well that’s not a good choice because I had a 3 month addiction to Percocet after a PTSD trigger. My only option has been to go to the doctor and get a cocktail of injections, which consists of Torodol, Phenergan and Benadryl. If that doesn’t work fully they add some Valium on top of it. Knocks me on my ass! Then I wake the next morning to a rebound headache and have to pound water and ibuprofen.  Thankfully my doctor found a new combination of meds we’ll try so I don’t have to go in for injections and I can take these medications at home, haven’t tried them yet or should I say I haven’t had to try them yet.

I’m learning through this process that this type of grief goes away after opening that door to the trauma. Death grief on the other hand is an unrelenting asshole and I can’t shake it.

CPTSD is destructive and I believe to be life threatening if you don’t treat it. It’s scary as hell to face, but I would rather face it – fight it – kick its ass, then to let it paralyze me from experiencing true happiness and freedom. So I may have to deal with migraines for a while and drool all over myself from the treatment of them, but it’s better than the alternative of living with that trauma closed behind a door in my thalamus.


The photo used in this blog has been approved by the artist as long as I provide you a link to her work. I find her Jettison gallery fascinating.

jet·ti·son noun \ˈje-tə-sən, -zən\: a voluntary sacrifice of cargo to lighten a ship’s load in time of distress.

Shout Out To My Followers


I want to give a shout out and thank you to all of my followers across the globe!

  • United States
  • Canada
  • Australia
  • Brazil
  • Mexico
  • Chile
  • United Kingdom
  • Italy
  • Ireland
  • China
  • South Africa
  • India
  • Finland
  • Spain
  • France
  • Czech Republic
  • Singapore
  • Argentina
  • Ecuador
  • Philipines

Your continued support, honesty and love has been beyond therapeutic. Being able to openly discuss my life from the safety of my home has been freeing. Knowing I can also protect my family and all involved from harassment and hate because of my truth is heartwarming.

Honesty is extremely healing! I also want to thank those of you I follow. Your honesty and vulnerability is most appreciated!

May God continue to pour his blessings over you all!

Your Growth Is Noticed


As you are shifting you will begin to realize you are not the same person you used to be.  The things and people you used to tolerate have now become intolerable.  Where you once remained quiet you are now speaking your truth.  You are now understanding the value of your voice.  If you’ve angered anyone with your outward honesty, be proud, for THAT fear to remain silent has left the building.


Divorced Parents = Divorced Holidays


I can look back and honestly say I don’t remember NOT ONE Christmas Eve or Day after my parents divorce. NOT ONE!  Well wait..maybe one. I’ll get to that Jerry Springer episode in a moment.

I don’t know how any child of divorce can remember these Christ filled holidays, probably because Christ was nowhere to be found nor mentioned.  Unless it was my father yelling “Jesus Christ!” then slamming down the phone after having to talk with my mother. The chaos and over stimulation of drama was so much…who would want to remember it?

If you’re a child of divorce you know exactly what I speak of.  If not, may I paint you my Norman Rockwell holiday tradition?

It’s the week before Christmas break and us “divorcelet’s” are sitting and eating lunch in the cafeteria asking each other what our holiday schedules look like. The answers were typically like this: I’m with my mom until Christmas Eve at 6pm, then my dad and his girlfriend are picking me up and we’re going to some swanky restaurant. I’ll stay at his apartment until Christmas day, I have to be back to my mom’s by noon. Then I’ll stay with her until New Years Day and dad will pick me up at 10am.

Then there are the “every other year” divorcelet’s: I spent Christmas with my dad last year (I think) so I’ll be at my mom’s until New Years Eve, my dad will pick me up at 5pm and we’re going to eat pizza and rent movies and watch the New York ball drop. 

Seems simple..right? WRONG! With all of this confusion stuffed into our stocking, you can’t forget the stocking fillers! Fillers are the extra fun that comes when you’re packing to go to your dad’s place and you bring your bag to the door, while anxiously dreading his honk and mom’s passive aggressive announcement of “YOU’RE father’s here”, but before this can happen she HAS to ask you THE QUESTIONS.  “What are you taking to your fathers? You better not take your new toy because it might get lost at his house. I certainly hope you don’t plan on taking those nice clothes I bought you I’ll never see them again.”  Everything you were just gifted have quickly turned into bargaining tools of her pathological conditional love.

When entering dad’s car you’re quickly whisked away with the same ol “Hi honey, Merry Christmas”. Then he gives you about 5 minutes to adjust to the atmospheric change to his world and then hits you with “So. What did you get from your mom?” He really isn’t interested for my sake, he’s actually measuring up his own gifts I’m about to shred open, to make sure he out witted her efforts.

Norman Fucking Rockwell! Merry Christmas…shitters full!


Nope, not full yet! I almost forgot the Jerry Springer episode.

It’s me and Sis’s 2nd Christmas as divorcelets, we’re spending this year’s Christmas eve and morning with our dad. We’re all headed over to his sister’s house for a party with his entire side of the family and his girlfriend and her mother. Little history lesson, dad’s had 4 affairs on our mother by this point and #4 is why he left our mom. One of his sisters and 2 of her daughters love our mom very much and are really pissed about the whole scenario and are at this party. The worse part is my oldest cousin is THE SAME AGE as my dad’s girlfriend and my cousin is tough as nails. She drove a dump truck at age 16 (cue banjo).

Alcohol is a MUST HAVE at any of his family events, lots and lots of alcohol. Us kids are even allowed to drink…as long as you’re over the age of 12. Standards people!

One drink leads to another drink, then one death look from my cousin leads to the Jerry Springer SMACK DOWN! Drinks tossed at each other, bowl of peanuts took flight with Rudolph and the littler divorcelets take off for their rooms in fear.  Screaming, pointing, flailing arms (Italian style), mascara running, Aquanet in the eyes and my father in the middle like a black Friday giveaway gift. He’s being pulled at from all sides, pushed, hit and I believe his hairpiece got ripped off. (cue banjo)  It was live action!

Did it get resolved? Nope. Slamming of the front door, followed by car doors and screeching of tires were the ringside bells. Dad’s #4 became known as my stepmother and the cause of a unhealing fracture that’s been painful since that very night. His family has never healed from it and it’s been 34 years.

I now have my husband and 2 son’s and I no longer have to split my holidays, because we have our own traditions now. Our Christmas is centered on Jesus and our deep respect and love for one another.  Each year I pray for all the kiddos who have a divorced holiday, I pray for their heart, soul and strength. May they make it through unscathed.

If you’re one of the parents of a divorcelet, remember, your child didn’t ask for this divorce and they certainly DON’T enjoy splitting the holiday in half. Consider reading from the bible 1 Kings 3:16-28 A Wise Ruling, it’s a great metaphor for this exact moment.

Blessings and Merry Christmas my fellow divorcelets!