My “Shining” Moment

Posted on July 30, 2011 by Betsy

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About 20 years ago I was on the board of directors of a computer software users group. We were planning our annual convention to be held in Orlando, and took a trip down to meet with the hotel and negotiate our contract. We had flown in from all over the country the night before and had a brunch meeting with the convention and catering manager.

We all placed our beverage orders and he said “well let’s get down to business”. Our treasurer, a gal from NYC said “I’ll warn you, we play hardball.” He had squeezed the seven of us into a booth with him. He and I were facing each other up against the wall–each blocked in by three people. I pulled out my leather portfolio, intending to take notes. I placed the portfolio on the table in front of me, opened it and pulled out a 10 inch butcher knife. I then waved it in the air and started laughing hysterically.

I suppose what made it worse for him was that the other board members knew me, and knew there must be a great story behind this, so THEY all started laughing uproariously too. So this poor guy is trapped in a booth by a bunch of strangers laughing like maniacs, and the one directly across from him is brandishing a huge knife. He did his best to crawl under the seat cushions while turning a true whiter shade of pale.

We got a hell of a deal on the catering.

How I got there.

Months before, my husband and I had gone on a trip to Hawaii. We brought back a box of pineapples and I took them in to work, along with the butcher knife to slice them. I threw away the remains of the pineapples in the carrying box I used. That left me in a secure government facility with a big knife to carry out. I couldn’t put it in a bag, because it would slice right through. I didn’t think walking past the guards holding it in my hand was a good idea either. I searched around my office and found one of the many leather portfolios I had. Conferences used to give the portfolios out with notepads in them. I tucked the knife securely in the inside pocket and carried it home–where I promptly forgot about it.

As I was preparing to leave for the trip to Florida, I realized I would need something to take notes on. I scavenged through my home office and grabbed a leather portfolio, intending to make an outline for the meeting while on the plane. The bridge on the way to the airport was being repaved, so there was only one lane traffic, and a big waiting line. My little orange Porsche did not do well sitting idling. It overheated and died. I missed one whole cycle of people crossing while I tried to restart it. The traffic manager helped me roll it onto the median and told me before to turn on the heater–that it would draw the heat out of the engine and help cool it down.

I was at the front of the line for the next crossing and the traffic manager said he would hold the others back for a few minutes so I could roll down the approach–since my baby was a stick shift, he said that would start it. It was August and the 914 had no A/C. So there I sat in my black broomstick skirt, red and black checkerboard muscle shirt, black and red spiral earrings and red sandals, getting sweatier by the minute as the heater blasted full out. The coasting trick worked, but now I was REALLY late.

So I rushed into the parking lot, late for my flight, and running through the airport. At the last minute the portfolio would not fit in the side pocket of my carry-on, so I stuffed it in my checked luggage and then ran for the x-ray machine.

Can you imagine what would have happened if I had run up to the guards, dressed in rocker chic, all frantic and sweaty, and put that knife thru the baggage X-ray?

All of that was going through my head as I sat there in the booth and stared at the knife. It took a while for me to catch my breath and explain what had happened to the rest of the gang. The hotel manager had to excuse himself for a while. We were all still laughing when he came back (I think he had to change his pants). I wonder if he ever got over the shock–he was jumpy the whole time we were there (even when we came back months later for the actual convention).

It was not quite over. I had a side trip planned to see my brother, on a small plane that had no baggage check–you just stowed the bags under the plane yourself. It was one of my good knives and I didn’t want to lose it, so I had to mail it back to myself. The gang said that in the future I could do ALL their negotiating.

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Posted in Strange but True | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Overcoming Fear of Heights

Posted on July 24, 2011 by Betsy

Fear of heights can take different forms. One form is Vertigo, a feeling of dizziness triggered by looking from a height. With normal dizziness, a person will feel that their surroundings are spinning or moving. Vertigo is different in that the person with Vertigo feels as if they themselves are moving. The person with Vertigo may actually fall due to an instinctive reaction to that perceived movement.  True Vertigo can occur without any heights being involved. People who get the dizziness or Vertigo symptoms can’t ride in glass elevators, or stand close to windows in high rise buildings. They also have trouble with aerial tramways, chair lifts, and escalators. They don’t like window seats on airplanes. They may even be bothered by scenes in movies that depict a view down from a height. Vertigo is generally a medical condition (which should be evaluated by a doctor to rule out serious causes);  some forms can be medically treated. Otherwise one option is to avoid the triggering views.

Some coping techniques:

  • Glass elevators–stand facing the (opaque) door
  • Aerial tramways–stand in center of the car, hold to the center pole, look at the floor
  • Airplanes–get an aisle seat, or close the window shade
  • Escalators–use an elevator or enclosed stairway instead
  • Heights in general–don’t look down!

Another form of fear of heights is a fear of falling. Some people primarily have trouble with heights in a natural setting; they can’t walk along a cliff because they feel like a wind is pulling them over the edge. Others have trouble with descending long escalators (but are okay riding escalators going upward). Some even have trouble with upper level walkways in shopping malls–they fear they will trip and fall over the rail. So for these people, it is what they imagine happening that causes their fear. Because of that, there is a technique that can cure the fear in a single treatment.

Your brain can’t imagine two different things at the same time. So to prevent yourself imagining a fall, instead imagine singing the Star Spangled Banner. That particular song is used because it is hard to sing, and takes more concentration to imagine. If this technique works for you, it will work the first time..  I know, because it worked for me. I can now ride in glass elevators, walk to the edge of a cliff, etc. If it doesn’t work for you, then your options are: a more in-depth therapy, or avoidance/coping techniques.

More coping techniques:

  • Cliffs–stay at least one body length back from the edge
  • High rise windows–close blinds, install frosted coating at least up to waist high, or place a piece of furniture (maybe a chair) in front of the window
  • Mall balconies–stick close to storefront walls, even touching them as you walk

All of these coping strategies are for fear of heights while walking. Related fears, like fear of driving across bridges of certain types usually need different coping techniques.

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Future of the Book

Posted on July 15, 2011 by Betsy

(notes from panel at Spring 2011 Gaithersburg Book Festival)

Participants:

Michael Norris, Editor, Book Publishing Report
Jed Lyons, President & CEO, Rowman & Littlefield (publishing)
Geoff Shandler, Editor-in-Chief,  Little, Brown & Co. (publishing)
Mark LaFramboise, Book seller and lead book buyer,  Politics & Prose (independent bookstore)
Gail Ross, Founder & President, Ross Yoon Agency, (commercial non-fiction, media law)

Norris— He cautioned that authors should be focusing on the quality of their work, rather than what format it will be published in. You don’t build a book for a device that will be obsolete in 11 months;  90% of iPad owners have not read a single eBook on their iPad. The people who buy print books outnumber the people who buy eBooks by 5 to 1. “We will have print books forever, we’re also going to have eBooks forever.” 

Lyons–In 2010, his company (Brown & Littlefield) published more books than ever before (he noted  they are publishing more different titles now, because they are selling fewer copies of each). Mentions AuthorSolutions with negative implications–says average number of copies sold by self-publishers (SP) using print on demand (POD) is ~100. (He did not offer statistics on how many eBook copies that SP sells.) Although there are many more publishers now–7,000–most SP books are not sold through normal channels.  Lyons states that SP books breakdown into 2/3 fiction, with half of those being  erotica. Industry wide, Lyons says,  eBooks are only 6% of total sales volume. He expects nonfiction sales will double in 2011 (to 10-12%).  (It was not clear if “sales volume” meant # of copies sold, or $ value of the sales.) He thinks eBooks are great news for publishers because of their low production cost–no warehousing, etc. Thinks Kindle is the leading e-reader,  their product is “inch deep, mile wide”,and  easier on the eyes. Business model of iPad is different, he says, going deep instead of wide. B&N claims to have 25% of the eReader market. Google has a larger stable of content–because they’ve been digitizing books for quite a while. Biggest concern about proliferation of titles (i.e., the influx of SP authors) is quality–removal of the filter that publishers provided (protecting the public from “drek”).

Shandler–Doesn’t like electronic card catalogs, likes stacks–he has high praise for “stumble upon” encounters, and thinks it is vital to figure out how to provide serendipity in a digital world. He points out that Dictionary.com adds 243 cookies to your browser, and tailors responses to those cookies–this reduces serendipity. In a survey of 43,000 readers,  researchers found that when shopping online, 23% of shoppers end up buying something they hadn’t planned for, but when shopping in brick & mortar stores it is 48% that purchase something extra. Shandler thinks it is a bad sign that there are no longer book reviews in DC or LA papers. Also commented that the industry hasn’t figured out how to let libraries have eBooks.

LaFramboise–Thinks the changes in publishing (SP, eBooks, and POD) is a great challenge (therefore a great opportunity). Cautions there is heavy competition for your readers. with traditional books stores being challenged by deep discounting and superstores. He says eBooks are 15-20% of the market (again, this is not defined, so both speakers could be correct). LaFramboise views the biggest challenge to be simply  getting more people to read. His store does sell SP books on consignment, local authors only.

Ross–She is a lawyer and agent, covering topics like eBook rights vs enhanced book rights. Hardcover is a list price royalty. Agency model is used for eBooks–25% of net received by publisher (or maybe of the 70% that Amazon pays them). Trade paperbacks–7.5% of list price?? Hardcover royalties are more than eBook royalties, which in turn are more than royalties for trade paperbacks. Publishers used to delay the releases of other formats (eBooks and paperbacks) until the hardback sales had played out. This affects author advances. Her clients see more sales to libraries than to independent bookstores.

Bottom Line (my personal take)–Authors need to be focusing on honing their craft, creating a higher quality product. We need to be encouraging people to read more, and more people to read.  Who cares which format wins out, as long as people continue to pay to read.  As an SP author, a prudent strategy is to make your titles available on as many platforms as possible.

Posted in Nuts and Bolts | Comments Off on Future of the Book

Warning Signs of Unhealthy Relationships

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Betsy

There’s an old tale about cooking a live frog by starting it in a pot of cold water. The frog could easily jump out of the pot, but the water is comfortable so it stays put. The water heats up so gradually that the frog doesn’t recognize the danger until too late, and it is boiled alive.

There are many classic warning signs of codependent and/or abusive relationships. Some are very obvious, like physical violence, verbal abuse, and alcohol or drug abuse. But some early signs are more subtle — they creep up on you so gradually that you are in hot water before you know it.

  • You change your plans for him
    This usually surfaces during very early stages of a relationship. It may be anything from sitting home, waiting for that call, to cancelling standing plans with friends when he does call.  This is a problem with your own behavior. I knew I was finally over this flaw when my new guy called to ask me out and I told him, “Sorry, that’s the night I go out dancing with my friends — but you are welcome to join us.” I did that because I had vowed to never disrupt my life for a man again. Surprisingly it worked out well. The new guy showed up to join me and my friends, and got hooked on dancing. I ended up marrying him.
  • You change your appearance for him
    Sometimes this is the earliest sign of a control freak.  If he demands that you grow your hair out, or always wear high heels, or a particular color or style of dress, watch out. It’s okay for a guy to have a favorite outfit for you to wear, but if he wants you to wear nothing else, or if he sulks when you do, then watch out. Stick up for your own sense of style!
  • He cuts you off from your family, friends, and even coworkers
    This can begin subtly, with last minute cancellations when you were supposed to meet with family or friends or coworkers. He may use a variety of excuses: not feeling well or being “too tired” at the last minute, claiming he feels left out because he doesn’t know the people you work with. Unfortunately, after repeated no shows, you may stop getting invitations at all. He may “forget” to give you messages, or even delete messages from the answering machine and destroy incoming mail.
  • He does stuff without you, but doesn’t want you to do stuff without him
    When my second husband started “stopping off to play darts with colleagues” after work every day, but complained about me taking a painting class one day a week, I knew our relationship was in trouble. This exclusivity can take the form of jealousy, or just be that he always wants you home waiting for him.
  • All his problems are somehow your fault
    I can’t jog because I get really bad shin splints. When my first husband started gaining weight, he declared his weight gain was all my fault, since I wouldn’t jog with him (even though I offered to accompany him on a bicycle instead). That kind of specious reasoning is definitely a bad sign.

Take a look at your relationship–don’t wait till you are being boiled like that frog. My first book, The Comet, has more examples of bad relationships–told as metaphors using a comet, suns, planets, moons, etc. as the players in different types of relationships. it has a non-traditional happy ending that I think you’ll like.

Posted in Plugs, Self-help | Comments Off on Warning Signs of Unhealthy Relationships

Naturopathy

Posted on July 3, 2011 by Betsy

The earth’s cup is overflowing
with a healing draught for you
there’s a wholeness Nature’s holding
in the gray and green and blue

Deep in hidden places is
the tranquility you need
to hear the perfect tapestry
in the brush of stone and stream

Wisdom is there waiting
soft in the cool damp dark
feel the whispers of the trees
as you stroke the crumbling bark

The tumbling rush of waters
the stately dance of leaves
the wonder that surrounds you
in a hundred shades of green

c. 3/2/97, B. A. Riley

Posted in Philosophy of Life, Poetry | 1 Comment

Father’s Day at the Beach

Posted on July 1, 2011 by Betsy

Flash fiction challenge–genre: humor, theme: Father’s Day at the Beach, Focus: a purple turtle, limit: 715 words (won first place)

My folks always seemed very conservative to me, so it was a shock when I hit thirty and they declared that I should now call them “Fred and Sara” instead of “Dad and Mom”. Maybe that should have been my first warning, I thought, as I looked at them onstage at the karaoke bar. They were doing a Sonny and Cher medley. Only Dad was Cher (with a beach towel draped over his head for hair) and Mom was doing Sonny (holding a finger over her upper lip in place of a mustache). They’d started with “The Beat Goes On” and now they were doing “I Got You Babe”. How on earth did we get to this point?

I had decided to take them to Ocean City on Father’s Day weekend, to see the classic car show. On the way we stopped for lunch at Red Lobster. Dad is a big fan of sweet tea, but he hates adding the sugar himself — it just doesn’t dissolve right, he says, and he hates the taste of unsweetened. I suggested he try the Boston iced tea — it’s unsweetened tea mixed with cranberry juice. He and Mom loved it and kept asking the waiter for more of “that drink with the cranberry juice.”

The car show was great! In addition to all the muscle cars, there were lots of pristine model T’s and Packards with unusual paint jobs. It was really hot, so we kept detouring back over to the boardwalk for drinks. I always went for a margarita, hoping the salt would replenish what I’d sweated away. The folks didn’t seem to mind the heat as much as I did. They said they were sticking to the drinks they’d discovered at Red Lobster, but commented that the versions served in Ocean City seemed sweeter, “and you know how I like sweet things!” Dad had joked, squeezing Mom’s waist.

Dad’s favorite cruiser was the purple dragster that had its engine completely chromed, including the 6 foot stacks. Mom sweet-talked the owner into letting Dad pose for a photo in the driver’s seat. If I didn’t know better, I would swear she was flirting with the guy. Mom liked the VW minibus covered with psychedelic flowers. “Remind you of anything, big boy,” she laughed, raising her arms over her head and whirling around. Dad chuckled and wrapped her in a hug, even squeezing her butt! I was starting to think my parents were “getting frisky” as they used to say on Happy Days.

When we hit the old-time photo shop, Dad went for the riverboat gambler outfit, which put Mom as a saloon girl. She really got into it. She swished her skirt around and sat in Dad’s lap, flashing a gartered leg. Next we split a bucket of fries, and Dad fed the leftovers to the gulls, while I took photos. When he got tired of holding a fry up for the gulls to snatch out of his hand, he started holding one in his mouth. Mom was content to balance fries on the brim of her hat. I got some great shots, even some with the giant purple frog kite in the background.

Those old folks wore me out. I went to bed while they stayed up dancing to the Caribbean band back by the pool. The next morning they showed me the trophy they won in the limbo contest! I was feeling like a real stick in the mud, compared to these two. After dinner we came to this  karaoke bar where Mom and Dad started their duets. The crowd loved them. When Mom took a break after their third song, I volunteered to go get drinks for us all. Dad stayed onstage (as Cher) and started wailing on “Half-Breed”. I shook my head and asked the bartender for my margarita (a double) and two Boston teas. He said they didn’t serve Boston tea.

“What do you mean?” I protested, “They’ve been drinking Boston teas all weekend,” I pointed at my parents.

“Them?” said the bartender, “They asked for ‘that drink with cranberry juice’, so I’ve been making them purple turtles — very popular here in OC — it’s cranberry juice with blue curacao liqueur, coconut rum, and triple sec.”

That explained a lot.

Posted in Flash Fiction | Comments Off on Father’s Day at the Beach

Games

Posted on June 22, 2011 by Betsy

This piece was written for a short story contest with the following constraints:
max 715 words, genre – Suspense, theme – Family Reunion,  focus – a red scarf.
It won first place.

Cousin Katy was different from the rest of our family. She gave the appearance of beauty even though any individual feature was quite ordinary. Maybe it was her attitude; she seemed to expect admiration from everyone. Every year the aunts speculated about what outlandish outfit Katy would wear to the reunion. We knew we could count on her to surprise us, and count on the cousins to tease her mercilessly. Except for Cousin Malcolm, but he wasn’t a blood relative. He was a step-child Aunt Miranda got in her latest marriage. His eyes followed Katy’s every movement.

The year Katy came with her hair dyed green (“I did it for St. Pat’s and decided I liked it,” she explained), Malcolm ventured to comment that the color looked good on her. I don’t think Katy heard him, because that was when the other cousins tried to dump a bucket of Gatorade on her head.

When Katy came in a slinky cat-suit, Malcolm commented that she sure had the figure for it. But the other cousins were chasing her around the yard, barking like dogs and yelping “here, kitty, kitty,” so she didn’t hear.

Last year, when the cousins played keep away with Katy’s big flowered hat, Malcolm tried to retrieve it for her. Unfortunately, he fell off the barn roof and broke his leg. He was whisked off in an ambulance while Katy was being chased by cousins waving pots they insisted would make better hats.

This year Miranda confided in me that she was worried about Malcolm. His college grades were dropping. “He did perk up a bit for the reunion, though,” she added, “although I can’t see why – he never participates in anything.”

I thought I had an inkling. But no one listens to a maiden aunt.

Katy was late, as usual, so she could make an entrance. This year her flamboyance was shown in a vivid red silk scarf. Even with a loop hanging almost to her waist, the trailing ends fell past her knees. I suppressed a brief shiver as I remembered Isadora Duncan dying wearing a scarf like that. It got caught in the wire hubcaps of a car she was riding in and strangled her. I shook my head to banish that memory. The scarf was an excellent contrast to Katy’s hair, which this year was dyed black with blonde tips and spiked all over. I think the kids called it a “hedgehog” style. She had on flowing white trousers and a black tank top and ballet flats. At least her outfit was more suited to a picnic and to the running she was sure to do.

Sure enough, the cousins immediately went for the red scarf. I was relieved that Cousin Michael grabbed the loop, pulling it off Katy’s neck before Bruce and Danny could yank on the two ends and choke her—accidentally, of course. The boys ran in opposite directions, wrapping the scarf around Katy’s waist, and then Michael yanked one end, sending her spinning to fall on her back. Malcolm went to help her up and dust her off, but her eyes were on the other cousins, who were running across the field, trailing the scarf like a kite. She didn’t even thank Malcolm, or notice the way his arm muscles now bulged. He HAD been working out.

Malcolm took off after the cousins in a flash, passing Katy on the way. He must have been spending some time at the track as well as the gym. He knocked the cousins flying, grabbed the scarf, and gently folded it before presenting it to Katy with a flourish. She threw it back at him and ran over to Michael.

Katy and Michael disappeared for a while, and so did Malcolm. Most everyone had left when Katy showed back up, looking for her scarf. I pointed her towards the barn, where I had last seen Malcolm.

When I heard her screams, I ran, cursing myself for not checking on Malcolm earlier. But it was Michael hanging from the rafters by the red scarf. The bright silk clashed with his purple face. I was panting in the doorway when Malcolm stepped out of the shadows.

“Hey Katy,” he said calmly, “have you got time for me now?”

Posted in Flash Fiction | 4 Comments

Guest Blog: The 10 Commandments for Authors (re: Legitimate Publishers)

Posted on June 16, 2011 by Betsy

Today’s entry is a guest blog by Hank Shrier of GBN publishing, who graciously agreed to allow me to use it for my first guest blog. It was originally posted in the LinkedIn group: Independently Published Author’s Marketing Association.

1. I am the Author, lord of the book. I shall have no other lords before me.
2. I shall keep my editor close to me and compensate him/her well for he/she is with me.
3. I Shall not payeth any agent or Publisher or Agent up front for any services for those who demand this are like the snake in the garden of eden tempting me with their forked tongues.
4. I shall respect myself and carefully practice my craft. I shall eliminate errors in spelling, punctuation, and grammar as much as possible before submitting a manuscript.
5.I will humbly accept input from people who are trying to make my writing better. No one is perfect and we all need outside help to maximize our potential
6. I will seeketh a great cover designer, for the cover is the countenance of my book and speaks first to the potential reader. I will not skimpeth on my cover for to do so is to cheat the creative force that breathed life into my creation.
7. I will accept that it is up to me to market my book. I will pray at the altars of Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter. I will reach out to the multitudes of readers with open arms and embrace them.
8. I will respect myself and my fellow Authors by keeping the price of my work at an honorable level. i will not sink to the bottom and sell my soul for .99 miniscule slivers of copper.
9. I will gladly share the credit for the success of my work with those people who empowered me to be in the position to participate in this wonderfully creative process.
10. I will respect my fellow craftsmen and support their efforts with my mind, heart and soul. When possible, I will support them with my purse as well. I’ll not ask for or accept any free books.

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Sidewalks to Nowhere

Posted on June 12, 2011 by Betsy

I first saw them in Kentucky. Near where I grew up is Land Between the Lakes, a wilderness park created by the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA). It is land that falls between Kentucky Lake and Lake Barkely–lakes created by TVA dams. People used to live there, between the rivers. The government came and forced them to sell their land. In one place an entire small town had to be moved. When the lakes started filling up you could look through the clear water and see the trees and buildings below. Many buildings were left standing, to provide homes for fish. The houses that were not to be flooded, were torn down so that they would not attract squatters.

Driving through the newly public land, you could see where the houses had been. There are sidewalks to nowhere, sometimes ending in concrete steps that go up to emptiness. Occasionally there is a chimney still standing, pointing at the sky in silent protest. Over time, the chimneys fall; the steps and sidewalks are overgrown by vegetation, making it hard to spot the old homesteads. Except in springtime.

In springtime, the jonquils bloom. Some call them daffodils, but by either name, they are golden sentinels to the homes that were. They stand in straight rows, showing where the edge of the yard was. They march in parallel lines, pointing the way to the old doorway on either side of the sidewalk that was. When I first toured the Smoky Mountains, I found the same sunny reminders of homeowners forced to relocate by the National Park Service.

So now, every Spring when I see the yellow bells with their tutu petals, nodding in the light breeze, I think of the lonely homesteads in Kentucky and Tennessee. How strange that of all the man-made changes to the land, it is the flowers the owners planted that remain as a reminder of those who lived and loved there.

What will be our legacy on this earth? Will the things that we have built also fall into decay? If so, we had better begin planting flowers, planting them in lines and designs, to show they were deliberately placed.

Posted in Philosophy of Life | Comments Off on Sidewalks to Nowhere

PTSD Survivors Speak: We Have To Wake Up!

Posted on June 7, 2011 by Betsy

This post was originally a guest blog I wrote for http://healmyptsd.com  
“Heal My PTSD” is a support group for survivors with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

All PTSD is not the same. As survivors, we have different traumas and different experiences before and after the traumas that shape our behavior and affect our recovery. Some come by PTSD from prolonged, severe stress and injury – like combat or child abuse. Some have a single traumatic event, like a severe accident or natural disaster. I’ve also heard of PTSD cases triggered by loss – of a spouse, parent, or even a job or health. Those cases would be different, because the trauma hasn’t necessarily gone away.

To me, the key factor in classic PTSD is “Post”, meaning “after”. You are feeling stress even though your trauma is over. You’re home from the war, grown up and out of the abusive home, healed up from the car accident, or rescued from the flood, but you still feel the stress of the triggering event.

The first step to healing is to REALIZE that you have survived. That you are no longer in the war zone, that you are no longer a child at the mercy of adults. It sounds so easy, but it can be really hard to achieve. This is especially true of cases of amnesia induced by single event traumas like car accidents. The amnesia is usually triggered because the brain shut down when you thought you were going to die. Trying to take you forward through the events will have the same result-your brain will refuse to go there (just like it did the first time). But a clever therapist will start the regression at the survival point and step backwards (“what happened before that”). That way you are starting from a point in the past where you KNOW you survived.

What you know intellectually doesn’t always mesh with what you feel emotionally. When you encounter a situation that in some way matches a time when you were in danger, suddenly you are back in the emotional state that accompanied the trauma.

It can be a sound, a smell, a touch. It can be the curve of the road, or a change in the weather. Your body remembers that condition and those emotions will come flooding back. The false cue can even lead you to react in the way that you reacted to the actual trauma, whether that response is appropriate or not.

It’s like the husky pup orphaned in the dead of winter. The clever pup digs a pit in the snow to shelter itself from the arctic winds — the pit keeps the puppy alive by conserving its body heat. When summer comes and the snow melts, the pup may still try to dig a pit, in the dirt. The pit is no longer needed, but the pup may not see that — it is stuck in the rut of doing what worked before.

As survivors, we have to wake up and realize that the snow is gone and we no longer have to hide. We can learn new behaviors and new responses to old triggers. We can go forward with the mission of “don’t let them win”.  After all, surviving and living a good life is the best revenge against those who wronged us.

Posted in Philosophy of Life, Self-help | Comments Off on PTSD Survivors Speak: We Have To Wake Up!