Episode 10 Locked Out...Stop Worrying Our Brains Are Liars..

Learning to Self regulate my Nervous System..

.Stop Worrying..

.Start Living...

Fact Check Our Thoughts Before Accepting Them to Be True...

email sleeplessingranada@yahoo.com

I would love to hear from you..

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Hello and another big Scottish welcome from my little corner of paradise. It's another beautiful sunshiny day here. I'm sitting on my terrace sipping my green tea as I contemplate the content for this episode. So much of our life is determined by who we hang about with. Sigmund Freud said before you self-diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first of all make sure you're not in fact surrounded by arseholes. It's a difficult decision to block the toxic humans from our lives When you go no contact, it can be so, so painful. And in our low moments, when we reach for that phone, anything is better than feeling this utter loneliness, right? No, wrong. It's our brain playing tricks on us again. When I find myself in my black, darkest thoughts, I would do some of my favourite things. I played my favourite cheesy tunes volume up and I would dance and sing around my kitchen. I'm sure my poor dogs covered their ears at times I was so unmelodic. And not forgetting the huge spoon and a tub of my favourite ice cream. Ah, self-soothing. It's fabulous. Go on, try it. You might even like it. Now, I own my past mistakes. I no longer can be manipulated. I learn to sit in my pain. In my past life, when my soul called out my name, I refused to listen to her. I let my silent tears flow. I didn't even recognise my reflection. Who was that sad woman in the mirror? When I hit rock bottom the only place for me to go was up up up People always try to shame and guilt trip us for all our past bad behaviours and decisions. But you know, life doesn't come with an instruction manual. We all just muddle around the best we can. Believe me when I say this, it's human to make mistakes. And by God, I've made a few. In my toxic relationship, I was always accused and told to stop overreacting. Stop being so fucking emotional. Before I healed, I would question all the hurtful words that spewed from his mouth. But my feeling just like yours are valid. When we focus on our problems, we have more problems. When I think of all the sleepless nights I spent pacing the floor, trying to get answers, trying to understand why, why? Do you think that your abuser or tormentor would be doing the same thing? I think not. My monster didn't love me. He loved the power he had over me, the manipulation and the control. But now I was changing my mindset. My therapist told me once, close your eyes. She said, if your life was a What would the people watching be screaming at the screen, telling you what to do with your life? This really hit hard. Years and years of journaling did nothing for my inner thoughts that continued to torment me. It just got all the shit out of my head and onto the paper. I learned how to regulate my nervous system, to switch off my flight or fight mode. This was my go-to when I felt threatened and unsafe, and therefore stop all the past thoughts that were on repeat, repeat, repeat. My thoughts had so much to do with the state of my nervous system, self-doubt, anxiety and low esteem. I only learned about the vagus nerve reset a few years ago And I'll explain. This is the part of your nervous system that calms you down. It kept me stable and it made me feel good. There are amazing techniques that you too can follow. It really helped me. I'm speaking about my experiences and how I dealt with my life. I'm not qualified in any way to teach you about techniques. If you Google Vegas Nerve Reset, you'll find hundreds of professionals that can help you. It did for me. Are you a worrier? Oh my goodness, I used to be such a terrible worrier. But worrying doesn't take away tomorrow's trouble It takes away today's peace of mind. When I think back, I've already said this, of all the sleepless nights, pacing, pacing the floor to the least small errors, my mind would spin out of control, creating the worst case scenarios imaginable. These were always far worse than anything I ever had to face. Finally, I would fall asleep and when I woke up, I would find the solution to the worrisome thoughts. Instantly, our nervous system thinks that worry is the real deal. Someone told me this years ago and it stayed with me. Worry is just imagination with a pessimistic filter. Our body doesn't know it's fate. Worry pretends that it's planning but it's not. It's just pacing. Worry shrinks our thinking. The more I worried the worse my judgment got. Worry was simply worshipping my problems. Our brains can be liars sometimes. It's a control strategy that doesn't work. It feels productive but solves nothing. It's simply mental snowy flakes flying everywhere. Taking action in the present is the the only place we can take action. Shall I say that again? We suffer more in our imagination than we ever do in reality. I learned to focus on the good stuff going on in my life. I would write down three things that were good and I began to concentrate on these. Make it a habit like brushing your teeth. I know it's easier said than done but believe me when I say it, I know you can do it. Take me for instance. I'm a complete technophobe, a dinosaur in fact. I had the need to get this story out so badly but I had no idea where to start. where to go slowly I taught myself about the basics on podcasting I feel my story is more important than the way my voice sounds or the background noise I feel very proud of myself for facing my fears just starting as the hardest step you're a warrior and so am I hold my hand we can do this together please don't give up the next chapter will be the very best yet oh my goodness I was a terrible over thinker but my problem was really my problem it was the way I thought about them that That was the problem. A lot of my troubles came from the thoughts in my head and how I perceived them. I learned over time to fact check all my thoughts before accepting them to be true and through time and practice I somehow rewired my brain to have clarity and calm. Out loud I would say repeatedly, this is overthinking, this is overthinking, this is overthinking. It's a thought, it's not true, it's not true. But if there were people about I would say these words in my head. Sometimes, just sometimes, we just need to let go, even though it's painful, but we need our peace of mind. And as promised, a chapter from my memoir, and this one is called Locked Out. It was just another perfectly ordinary balmy summer evening. The golden sun hung low over Granada, casting long shadows along the mountains and painting the sky with stunning shades of deep orange and pink. As it dipped over the city, I stood up, stretched my tired limbs and admired the stunning sight. I was thankful for my Spanish parents I sighed. hugging me in its glow. I played catch up with my two energetic, excited pups. They bounced around my feet, yapping and barking playfully, making me laugh in delight at their antics. They chased each other in circles, occasionally stopping to nuzzle at my legs. Their tails wagged constantly and they too felt happiness in the air. This moment of unconditional love washed over me and made my heart swell. I couldn't help, I was smiling again. Yes, dared I admit it, I felt content and at peace. Today was truly a remarkable day. Taking a little break, I jotted down thoughts in my journal, sharing the day's simple joys with myself. As my thirst hit, I went to the back kitchen door, eager to grab a refreshing drink. But to my dismay, I found the door locked. I was puzzled and momentarily my heart sank as I realised I couldn't get back in. There was no access to the front of the house from here. I was in my back garden with nowhere to go and nowhere out. And it felt like a scene from a dark comedy movie. With a sickening awareness I knew I was trapped. Dread consumed me. I understood the gravity of my situation. A wave of panic surged within but I quickly shook it off and tried not to worry. I began pounding on the windows and the other doors hoping against all hope that he would hear me and let us all back in. I swallowed hard battling the bile rising in my throat. My palms pressed against my mouth to halt the silent screams that eagerly wanted to erupt. My serene evening had had turned and twisted into a terrifying nightmare. I was completely isolated. The echo of my frantic knocks meeting an unnatural silence. The sun dropped lower, casting dark shadows across the garden. The temperature tumbled and I shivered. I called out, my name trembling. Hello! I'm outside with the girls! Please let us in! The air thickened with tension, then silence. I knew then it was him. He had done this. Yet another form of punishment for what I had no idea yet. No matter how long I battered on the the window or the doors or yelled at his name. I knew he would not answer. We're on our own now, girls. The dogs, sensing a shift in my demeanour, paused their playful antics and looked up at me, their eyes wide with concern. I had to stay calm and control the alarm, which grew faster than my heartbeat. I had to think straight. There was no way of us getting back into the house from here without him opening the door from inside. Fuck! Fuck!

UNKNOWN: 9:44

Fuck!

SPEAKER_00: 9:45

I knew he would not rescue me. Sighing heavily, I took a deep breath, inhaled the familiar fragrance of the flowers as I walked up and down the garden looking for a way out. I couldn't let panic take over. There had to be a way out, you fucking prick! Primal instinct kicked in. It urged me to push through the terror that threatened to paralyse me. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I steeled myself. When in survival mode, it's incredible how strong we are when all other options have been taken from us. We often unleash a vast reservoir of resilience we didn't know we had. As I paced back and forth, I Termination set in and I continued to search for my escape. I faced the daunting sight of a five meter high tiered wall encased in security fencing. I refused to be held captive within this prison and I prayed my sentence would end soon. Suddenly I spotted a tall paint splattered ladder in the gardener's room. An unexpected opportunity, a beacon of hope and my way to freedom. My mind went into overdrive as I envisaged the possibility that with the rickety old ladder I I could pull myself up to the upper floor, scramble over the first floor fence, and slip into my dressing room through the open door. Yet even as I considered this, I began to quake with fear. Anxiety continued to bubble within me. I bawled my fists into my hot, angry face to quench the stem of tears. But then reality struck. I now had another huge problem. My deep-seated phobia of heights. This deep dread wasn't just a passing fear. It was a legacy passed down from my dad, who had struggled with vertigo Why, oh why, hadn't I inherited my mum's great legs and tiny waist? We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose. I have to know one in particular. The thought of ascending that ladder filled me with dread, and my heart pounded faster and faster as reality set in. I stood there, staring at the weathered ladder, my gateway to freedom. I recognised that sitting idle was not an option. Fear had its place, but could not, would not dictate my actions. I could almost feel the weight of that inherent fear. anxiety pressing down upon me amplifying the fear of what I needed to do the air was thick with tension and every sound seemed to amplify the silence of my predicament I took a deep breath and offered up a silent prayer I propped the ladder against the wall I was shaking like a table jelly and my knees were trembling so badly they were knocking the hell out of each other I clambered onto the first string and then the second and up and up I went suddenly I'd reached the first section of the tiered wall whoa I'd done it I'd conquered my fear whoa i paused to catch my breath and pulled the ladder up to the next level freedom was now in sight as i clambered over the fence i looked up only to see 20 stunned inquisitive faces they stood bug-eyed and mouths agape staring at me at the moment i endeavored to haul myself over the wall i was absolutely mortified but i continued my climb with no shoes on my feet and wearing an oversized white t-shirt i tried to hide my modesty a full eclipse of the moon, my bare arse was on display for all to see. Thank God I kept saying to myself for my agility and strength. I finally managed to claw my way up, beat shredded, battered and bleeding and bruised. Every muscle in my body ate, crying silently, humiliation coursing through me. My Spanish neighbours turned around and got on with their lively family pool party, oblivious to the terror and horror that I endured. The sound of children as they shrieked with delight, their laughter ringing through the air. Adults lounged lazily around the pool's edge, soaking up the final rays. Their faces were glowing as they sipped their cold beers. A heavy, profound emptiness and sadness settled in my chest and constricted my throat. The question burrowed deep into my mind like a persistent echo, reverberating in an empty hall. Why me? Why me? His persistent need for control enclosed me like the tightest fitting corset, squeezing my heart and restricting my ability to breathe freely. I felt powerless Trapped in this never-ending, totally fucked-up, toxic existence. I was his plaything, his puppet, trapped in chains. He pulled all my strings and I obediently danced to all his tunes. He would lift me up, then discard me when his mood changed. I had no choice. No one to hold my hand. No one to comfort me. No one to share my pain with. Shame was my constant companion. I needed to flee this festering frustration. I always believed that when you love, you love the darkness within, not just the light. but his dark side was destroying my mental health. I could no longer live in the darkest, deepest, blackest swarm of his emotionally warped brain. Desolation overwhelmed me. A black cloud of self-doubt and longing whispered, you will never be enough. You'll never be enough for him. I tried and failed miserably. I tried so hard to keep a modicum of decorum. I screamed so loud at the injustice of this fucking horrible toxic thoughts infested my brain. I shook my head to get rid of them. I had to concentrate on this task I had at hand. My screams went unheard as they were all in my head. As tears of rejection and humiliation cascaded down my withered facade, I sighed. I would have to change my attitude. I'll need to change it now. Relief consumed me and I began to hyperventilate. I slowly and cautiously pushed my dressing room door open and stepped inside. The house felt unwelcoming. A cold, empty shell. No longer my happy place. I shuddered. Its familiar warmth replaced by an eerie stillness. Feelings of betrayal surged through me. I crumpled to the floor and gave in to the tide of unbearable emotions. I continued to sob uncontrollably, each cry a raw, poignant reflection. I felt the tears stream down, mingling with the remnants of my shattered hopes and dreams. My body shook with every sob that escaped from my lips. My tears flowed as I pressed my forehead against the cool, hard surface beneath me. Every complex emotion I had bottled up and suppressed seemed to explode simultaneously gushing like a river bursting its banks the pain was sharp and raw each feeling piercing through me like a thousand needles i had never felt so humiliated so unloved before in my entire life the weight of the world i had been carrying on my shoulders all those years broke free and in a single overwhelming moment my shame intertwined with anger and sadness creating a storm i could hardly contain i didn't know how to process my feelings nor how to deal with the strangle hold he had over me. All my defence mechanisms had eroded. I felt susceptible and laid bare. My vulnerability terrified me, yet it felt strangely empowering. It felt like the first step towards healing. My silence empowered him. Hiding my feelings was no longer an option. It only postponed the inevitable. In that chaotic swirl of emotions, a painful realisation pierced through my fog. I knew in my heart that I had to end this marriage. It felt hollow, as though a part of me had died. leaving me in a state of profound loneliness. The truth loomed over me like a dark cloud. I couldn't save him. No matter how fiercely I wanted to believe otherwise, I had to save myself before it was too late. Memories flashed before my mind. Whispers taunted me and grief for what would never be. Constricting my breathing, I was in mourning. Outside, the soft evening light created a wondrous atmosphere. As I gazed around, I saw that every one of my neighbours was enjoying family time. From my vantage point, I continued to watch them, fascinated. I pressed my weary head against the cold window pane and found comfort in the sensation. It soothed my burning skin and frazzled nerves and my restless spirit. I craved intimacy, love and kindness, but all those fundamental emotions eluded me. I longed for that simple sense of the ordinary, family, comfort and belonging, the simple pleasures that unite us in a bond. It always felt just out of reach, leaving me in the quiet confines of my luxurious prison cell and the ache of sadness and solitude. This is the last time. Yeah, yeah, yeah, said the irritated voice in my head. Yet here we go again. Here we are. Here you still are. Fucking hated myself. He was sucking the very life out of me. A deep hollow emptiness swelled within me. I had to save me before it was too late. My soul needed to sleep. A rest so deep that fear and degradation could no longer touch me. I felt nothing and everything at the same time. My emotions were a kaleidoscope of the most brilliant colours. Now they were toxic, polluted and formed a giant, dark, mucky pool that swallowed me whole, dragged me down, down, down. The black, swirling trenches of my subconscious mind were my only constant. Yet within this vast expanse of absolute nothing, my spark of everything began. I swallowed hard and released a long, slow breath. Just then the monster stirred. He was sprawled naked on top of my bed in a common drunken stupor. Drilled running from his chin and onto my fucking clean bedding. Bastard! The pungent stench of stale beer clung to the air, invaded my nostrils and made my stomach churn violently. He filled me with a deep sense of revulsion and unconscious in a pitiful state of drunkenness his body was heavy and lifeless. You rambling again? said the voice in my head. I gave him my gentle beating heart, honesty, vulnerability, trust and love. So much love. He just needed a subservient someone to be the object of his affection when he desired and discarded when the mood took him. I so quickly misunderstood my trauma bond with him for a soulmate relationship. I had tried so desperately not to wall off my heart, but the battles in my head drowned out my very being. I had to silence the noise. When I realised that the corners of my mind were the darkest shade of grey, I allowed my insecurities and old demons to resurface, dictate and take over and control my actions. Security is the silent saboteur. I would obsess about not being good enough. I had no opinion. I went into survival mode. I had to protect myself. I willingly drank from the poisonous chalice followed into the fiery bowels of hell. Thus was my addiction. He showed me some breadcrumbs of affection and then without warning he smashed me to smithereens without a backward glance. He left me lying bereft on the floor. You cruel, cruel fucking bastard. He knew what he had done but I was the one to blame. I am empowered him. My spark, my sunshine, my desire and hope had now gone. Vilified, I crept into the ensuite bathroom to retrieve the bandages and ointment to clean up my feet. I took a pillow and went downstairs to rest on the couch. I didn't sleep at all that night. In the morning, he came down for his morning tea. When I confronted him about the episode the following evening, he simply shrugged his shoulders. I didn't get an apology. Instead, he turned the situation around as always. It was my fault. I was in the garden and hadn't let him know. And now I endured 10 days of silent treatment, the worst form of mental torture. Out of all the abusive behaviours that he directed at me, this was the most unbearable. Silence is violent. His silent treatment only ever ended when I crossed over the Great Divide, apologising, making his favourite meal, laughing and pretending that all was great. Inside, it was turmoil. My stomach churned constantly. My mind was always in high alert. I would jump at the smallest noise. Flinch if his hand movement was fast and sadness crept through my every crevice, mind, body and soul. I was robotic going through the motion. My pain and anguish never diminished. The ache of utter loneliness overpowered me and down, down, down I went. Over the years, he almost broke me innumerable times. I didn't know at the time that this was a trauma bond, but some inner strength deep down would not let me go. Once I stepped into my power, I grew stronger each stride. Thank you for listening to this episode. Please email me at sleeplessingranada at yahoo.com. I would love to hear from you and any feedback you have. And if you have suffered similar.