Just a quick update on the situation post EMDR. I finished the EMDR on March 5th. I think I was still “processing” a lot the few weeks after that because I had a few bad seizures the next week. At first I was really disappointed because I thought the therapy “didn’t work”. I changed my thinking on that because it DID radically shift my perception of myself from feeling worthless and fearful to feeling whole, supported, loved and WORTHY. My depression has never been better, and I feel very positive about life.

After that first week after the EMDR I had a nice three week streak with no seizures where I even had a yoga teacher training weekend without even one! This was a small miracle in my book. There were a few times I felt one coming but instead I would think, “why do I need to seize right now?” and the answer would come. Usually I was trying to avoid a difficult emotion. So instead I would let the emotion come out, have a good cry, and then feel better.

In April I had 5 seizures ranging from small to medium and currently I’ve only had one small one in the last 4 weeks. When I’ve gone this long without a seizure I begin to see positive effects trickle down into my body. I have less fatigue, more energy and I need less sleep. The one negative is I have more headaches. My chiropractor explained it this way. That my electrical pathways tend to get “mixed up” or “crossed” which causes the headaches and migraines. the seizures are like hitting reset on a computer, and resets all the electrical pathways. She is having me take a LOT of magnesium to see if this will help keep the electrical pathways from getting crossed in the first place. We will see.

I have had two bad “flashbacks”. That was kind of weird and super intense, but I didn’t seize so that’s a good thing. I think the flashbacks will become less intense over time.

Over all I am feeling more confident. So what if I have a little seizure once in a while, so long as I can live my life the way I want to.


Trigger warning: graphic description of being triggered by abuse and choking.

This is the second flashback in a week. Both triggered by something I saw in a movie, that hit too close to home to what happened to me. But I haven’t had a seizure. The last flashback was almost a conscious choice. At one point my head started twitching to the left, which is a strong aura that tells me I am on the verge of seizing. Up until that point I had been trying to hold back the flood of overwhelming emotion that threaten to engulf me. So as a last ditch attempted to ward off the seizure, I stopped trying to hold back the flood and I let it over take me. So I didn’t have a seizure, but I was plunged into an emotional blackness.  I am writing this the morning after, I feel emotionally drained, but physically I am fine. If I had had a seizure instead, I would probably be emotionally AND physically drained.

I just happened to watch two movies within a week of each other what had strong content almost identical to my trauma? One movie was, I thought, a romantic comedy! Except in the movie they were grown women and I was a child. It’s a miracle I walked away.  I don’t believe in coincidence. The universe is testing me. It is showing me look, you are strong enough to walk through the fire. You can handle this. After all it’s only pain right? It’s only grief? It will lessen with time. These are emotions that have been trapped in my body for 23 years. I am honoring what I’ve survived by feeling what I was incapable of feeling or processing then. 

In the second paragraph you can see my memory is a little fractured as I remember my hands being in two different places.

It’s dark. I don’t know where I am, or when. I don’t care. All I care about is the pain. There is nothing else, just blackness and pain. I writhe in agony, micro movements inside of tended muscles, that keep my body balled in as small a shape as possible. The pain rips blackness through my heart, leaving an open wound that spreads to my stomach. I hear screaming, but it’s not me. I feel nauseated and want to throw up, I open my mouth but all that comes out is a broken cry, vocal vomit. Silence. Saliva slips past my open mouth that is held motionless in a soundless scream. Then I realize I’m not breathing. Breathe, Beka, breathe! The breath comes in ragged through my throat. I’m alive. I sob the breathe out, wailing voice. I’m alive. Breathe in again. I’m alive. The weeping sounds move with my breathing and have the rhythmic quality of a mewling babe. It sounds loud to me, but no one comes. After a time, I quiet down.

My hands are on tiles. I am in a strained, fetal position. I open my eyes. My vision of the tiles is framed by messy hair and the hood of a sweatshirt, pulled over my head. One hand grips the sweatshirt at my heart, the other arm is wrapped around my head, gripping the hood. That’s right, I’m in Angie’s bathroom. It doesn’t feel real. It’s 2015 and you’re in Angie’s bathroom.

5 minutes ago I was doing yoga on the bathroom floor. Feeling the cool floor against my hands, feeling my body tense into the postures. I flow into crow. Breathe in, breathe out. But I’m avoiding what I know is coming. My body begins to twitch. It’s coming either physically or emotionally. If I let it come out physically, I will have a seizure. And I will be sick from it for the next few days. The mentally healthier option is to, what I call, “what through the fire” let the emotions come. It’ll be over soon. I let my mind go. It is being called to the past, I stop holding it back. The present slips away. I curl into a ball of pain.

8 minutes ago I was splashing water on my face clinging to reality through tactile sensation.

10 minutes ago I was standing over the sink crying.

11 minutes ago I was sitting the on the toilet crying.

20 minutes ago I was watching a movie with two friends. There was a scenes where a woman is accidentally strangled to death my a man obsessed with her. He was just trying to keep her quiet, and keep her from screaming. He didn’t mean to kill her, he loved her. He’s manic. Like a panicking gorilla trying to handle a wounded sparrow. It was an accident. In the movie the woman dies. I say “he can’t give her CPR?” My friend says, “I think she is past saving.” I can’t believe she died.

I slowly push myself away from the tile, and stand up. I walk into the living room. I’m still somewhere else, I feel like I’m playing a video game, controlling my body remotely. I pick up my glass and walk into the kitchen and sit down on the floor, propped up by the cabinets. My friends both learn over from the couch to look at me. “Are you all right?” I shake my head no. “Seizure?” “Flashback.” “What can we do?” “Ask me questions.” They look puzzled for a minute then start asking about yoga. How long have I practiced? What’s my teachers name? What style? The answers come slow. I have to think about it. My brain is foggy and lost in time.

I don’t answer the last question. It doesn’t matter. Emotion rolls through my body, my stomach tenses and my face scrunches up as I grip my hair in my hands. Fat, hot tears roll down my face. My friends come over, sit with me on the floor and place a hand on either shoulder. For the most part, they let me cry. I’m grateful. I let myself cry. I look at my very dear friend through tears and snot and somehow get this seemingly important message to her, through my lips, “I didn’t die.” “What?” As if I am just realizing it myself. “I didn’t die. I should have died but I didn’t. I didn’t die.”

The crying is the catalyst that some how focuses time, space, soul and body. As I eventually stop crying I am relieved to see, reality has firmed up and I’m back, in my body, in Angie’s kitchen in 2015. I look at my friends and say, “Thanks for sitting on the floor with me.”

Yoga and EMDR in the Treatment of PTSD

This is a really fascinating interview with Dr. Bessel van der Kolk who is a psychiatrist that has been treating people with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and other types of trauma for more than 40 years. He talks about the effectiveness of Yoga and EMDR in treating PTSD. As someone with PNES who is working through trauma with EMDR and in Yoga Teaching Training this really cleared some things up for me and realized I could not be on a better healing path.

Really worth listening to, click below:

You’re not broken.

I have been out straight for three days in a yoga teacher training module. A while back I met an amazing yoga teacher who somehow convinced me to take yoga teacher training. It’s a year long program, stretched out into one weekend a month. We do a lot of yoga, but we also study anatomy and philosophy.

This weekend during pholisophy, we were talking about letting go, and letting to of attachment. The Dalai Lama says all suffering if caused by attachment. I did not understand this, because I have suffered a lot and now I am being told it’s because I’m attached. Attached to what? Yoga philosophy would say, PTSD is attachment to a trauma. (Did I get that right?). Attached to an event in the past, a wrong that was done to me, and I took it personally. When someone does great harm to you, it’s really hard not to take it personally. How can you brush something like that off?

One of my friends in the class gave an example of a little girl she knows who was mauled by a dog. She was ok, but after she got out of the hospital she was crying a lot. And my friend asked her, “why are you crying” and the little girl said, “I really miss the dog.” This is an example of how the little girl did not become attached to the event and did not take it personally that the dog attacked her. It is safe to say she will not be traumatized by the event.

After the talk, I went up to my teacher and said, “it’s like I broke my leg and it healed wrong, and for years I’ve used a crutch to walk. I am very attached to that crutch, it lets me walk. It’s my safety net. And it’s as if you’ve taken my crutch away and told me to walk. I feel like I’m going to fall of a cliff, this is life and death.” She looked at me and said, “I’m going to tell you something really radical, you’re leg is not broken, you are not broken.” She reached out and put her hand on my heart and said, “this was never broken, your body was broken but it healed, your soul – who you are, was never broken. Your body was harmed but it healed. You are whole.”

This was very difficult to hear! Back on my yoga mat, I broke down in tears because I thought, ‘if I am not broken, what are these seizures? If I am a whole women who has seizures, what does that make me … weak. It makes me weak.’ Except I know I’m not weak. I feel broken, and yet I’m whole. I feel weak and yet I’m strong. I’m attached to a traumatic event in the past and yet, I don’t want to be. Right now my life is full of conundrums. My brain is going crazy trying to figure it all out.

I have PTSD?

I am meeting more and more people with PNES who also have PTSD. It this point my working theory is that the PNES is a symptom of PTSD. That PNES is a Conversion Disorder, born out of trauma. For a lot of people, the two diagnosis usually come around the same time, and either diagnosis can be quite a shock. We live in a war-time era where we think of people with PTSD as soldiers who have experienced the horrors of battle. Further complication arise when one may not even remember the event.

I started having seizures in 2010, and when I was diagnosed in 2011, all the medical professionals kept asking me, “Did you have a happy childhood?” The question made me angry. My childhood was the only thing in my life I remembered as being happy. I started to meditate at the beginning of 2012 as a way to help my seizures and it must have started to heal some deep part of my brain because by the summer of 2013, I was experiencing flashbacks.

Flashbacks are a terrible thing to experience. While somewhere in your brain you know you are standing in a grocery store or in a yoga class, your past come hurtling back and you feel as if you are there again. For all intensive purposes, experiencing a traumatic event from the past, in the present. Some may actually see and feel that happened, but some may only feel the emotions. For me, at first it was just the emotions. Something would trigger me and I would be shaking and crying and not know why. Now that I have my memories back through therapy, I know why. And knowing why can be very helpful in coming out of it.

At first it was really hard to accept that anything traumatic had happened to me. It was only a few months ago that I asked my therapist, “do I have PTSD?” At that point having something of a diagnosis made me feel better. It’s something I can tell people that they understand. I think I was affected more than I think I was. Life feels normal but I have been living 23 years with this – I’m 29 now. I don’t know what it feels like to be an adult without mental disorders. I used to be very depressed and anxious. When I started meditating, seeing a therapist, confronting my past, and pursuing a conscious lifestyle, my reality of “normal” shifted quite a bit towards the positive. I realized normal people feel safe, feel love, feel comfort…all things I have to work to feel. And while I don’t think I’ll ever be normal – the experience will leave a markedly different viewpoint for me – I will heal and learn happiness, peace, love. I will probably never be normal, but at this point I don’t want to be. I’d rather be me.