I wanted to write about the meditation I have been using to help center me when my mind drifts back to my Mexico time. It isn't original, however it has helped me through so much in the past 6 months.
I was meditating at the Tibetan Meditation Center in Frederick and I chose to visit events from my past life in Mexico. I knew that this would not be easy, but I felt that I was in a safe place and no harm would come to me.
I've found that assigning my feelings to objects which I can see in my mind help me deal with those feelings. For instance, when I think of something I fear I see it as some sort of challenge. Then I see myself as the perfect protagonist to defeat that challenge.
In my mind's eye, I see Mexico as a large red gate, which is the actual front gate of Casa by the Sea. I do not see past this gate, save for a few occasions where the memories from inside this area spill over and impact my ever-day life. However I could hear it, always gnawing at the daily decisions I make. Small triggers, bring me back there, constant reminders of my Casa by the Sea days tauntingly saying "I'm still here."
While meditating, I saw these gates and felt the evil which lived behind them. I saw myself as a skilled adventurer, poised and ready to combat whatever difficulty lie behind that gate. I walked up to the gate and it slowly opened. I saw the everyday life of a prisoner at Casa by the Sea. I saw the staff, the uniforms, the same eerie foreboding of whatever wicked this way came. My strength started to waver, merely seeing these sights again brought with them dark feelings.
I felt my physical being become sick. My stomach turned in circles, my head pounded. My breathing became strained, and sitting up became an impossible task. I hunched over, the emotional pain I retain from Casa became physical pain. This wasn't working, I had to change my path.
I realized my approach was my problem. I came to this vision thinking my problem was a nail, because I am great at hammering. I really needed to allow the nail to be and work around it. I distanced myself emotionally from the events. I saw them happen, I accepted them. However I realized that they can no longer affect me in the present.
My physical pains disappeared. I continued to venture out, exploring other memories and being at peace with them. Returning from the temple, I had never felt so at peace.
30 July 2009
24 July 2009
As I look back on it
July 11, 2001.
That was the day that I was taken to Mexico. Against my will, without my prior knowledge, the first crime I was ever subjected to. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, not knowing whether I was awake or dreaming. I feel the affect of these events every year.
July 11, 2004 - First year out of the program. I had 2 weeks before I left for the Army. I hadn't realized what really happened to me at Casa by the Sea, so I dismissed the flashbacks.
July 11, 2005 - I had a bad feeling all day. I spent the evening with my girlfriend (at the time) and hoped to forget it. I woke up numerous times throughout the night, suffering from a recurring dream where I get taken away. I never figured out how to escape my own prison.
July 11, 2006 - I was at Balad, Iraq for this event. I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and scared out of my mind. I grabbed my rifle and held it in my sleeping bag. A roommate was concerned about me doing this, I stepped outside and spoke with him for most of the night. I did not sleep that day.
July 11, 2007 - I had just married my wonderful wife. We went out for dinner and I hoped having someone else next to me would prevent any nightmares. They came, but were less intense. I felt some security.
July 11, 2008 - My wife and I were in the middle of an argument and she was in California. I was in Maryland. I knew this day would be bad. I knew I could not handle it. I tried taking this night sober, however I could feel the anger boiling inside of me. I knew that I had neither the willpower or courage to face this demon. I resorted to the bottle and became excessively drunk. I paid for it the next 2 days.
July 11, 2009 - After my trials and tribulations from December, I felt ready to take this issue head on. I had all the tools, and knew what was heading my way. I spent the day relaxing at home with my wife and dog. I played Bingo at the VFW in the evening. The feelings were there, grasping for some semblance of control. They never got a hold. I visualized my Grandfather's ranch, up in Glennville, CA when I started to feel scared or hurt. I grasped the Phurba which I wear around my neck. I repeated various chants and sayings which brought me comfort. I made it through the day and slept like a baby.
That was the day that I was taken to Mexico. Against my will, without my prior knowledge, the first crime I was ever subjected to. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, not knowing whether I was awake or dreaming. I feel the affect of these events every year.
July 11, 2004 - First year out of the program. I had 2 weeks before I left for the Army. I hadn't realized what really happened to me at Casa by the Sea, so I dismissed the flashbacks.
July 11, 2005 - I had a bad feeling all day. I spent the evening with my girlfriend (at the time) and hoped to forget it. I woke up numerous times throughout the night, suffering from a recurring dream where I get taken away. I never figured out how to escape my own prison.
July 11, 2006 - I was at Balad, Iraq for this event. I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and scared out of my mind. I grabbed my rifle and held it in my sleeping bag. A roommate was concerned about me doing this, I stepped outside and spoke with him for most of the night. I did not sleep that day.
July 11, 2007 - I had just married my wonderful wife. We went out for dinner and I hoped having someone else next to me would prevent any nightmares. They came, but were less intense. I felt some security.
July 11, 2008 - My wife and I were in the middle of an argument and she was in California. I was in Maryland. I knew this day would be bad. I knew I could not handle it. I tried taking this night sober, however I could feel the anger boiling inside of me. I knew that I had neither the willpower or courage to face this demon. I resorted to the bottle and became excessively drunk. I paid for it the next 2 days.
July 11, 2009 - After my trials and tribulations from December, I felt ready to take this issue head on. I had all the tools, and knew what was heading my way. I spent the day relaxing at home with my wife and dog. I played Bingo at the VFW in the evening. The feelings were there, grasping for some semblance of control. They never got a hold. I visualized my Grandfather's ranch, up in Glennville, CA when I started to feel scared or hurt. I grasped the Phurba which I wear around my neck. I repeated various chants and sayings which brought me comfort. I made it through the day and slept like a baby.
23 July 2009
NYRA Annual Meeting
Anyone in the Washington D.C. Area, the National Youth Rights Association is having their annual meeting on August 1st and 2nd. Anyone interested, please visit their website at http://www.youthrights.org .
18 July 2009
It's been a while
I have attempted to write about my experiences at WWASP seminars for a while now. Everytime I start, I hit this block. I remember it so clearly, but expressing these events in words has never come easy. In turn, I have decided to put this literary expedition off for now, instead focusing on some more recent events.
I wonder to myself daily, does this mean that I am finally recovering from my trials and tribulations? I have been through hell over this past year. I was taken away by the Army to Walter Reed, escorted there late on a Thursday evening. A certain mental health provider ignored advice from my therapist and wife, the advice to "not re-create Mexico" for me.
I made it through, not without a scar or two. I do not trust my Army Chain of Command. I never will, not after these events. I can only trust 3 fellow soldiers as a result of this. They were the ones who housed me, who spoke up for me by asking my commander the simple question "why don't we call his wife and ask what is really going on?"
I cannot put into words how understanding my civilian supervisor was. She told me "don't come into work until this has been resolved." These 4 people are the only reason I remained (relatively) sane through this ordeal.
It took me 2 months to even consider speaking to my counselor again. I had lost so much trust in the Mental Health field from Mexico, only to have a reckless social worker take the rest away.
I actually confronted this social worker. In my meditations, I always felt her presence gnawing at me. I knew what I had to do, the path was laid out for me. This women is my rapist, the one who took full control away from me and left me for dead. I thought for months about what I would say to her, only because the answer was right in front of me.
I was attending a Buddhist meditation center a few times a month. I would not be feeling her when I was meditating if it did not mean something. So I thought to myself, "What would Buddha do?"
I looked her dead in the eyes and told her that I was confronting my abuser. I told her that she re-created my PTSD and set my recovery back years. I also let her know that I was praying for her soul, "I hope that the harm you caused to me is overshadowed by the good you will accomplish in this life."
I wonder to myself daily, does this mean that I am finally recovering from my trials and tribulations? I have been through hell over this past year. I was taken away by the Army to Walter Reed, escorted there late on a Thursday evening. A certain mental health provider ignored advice from my therapist and wife, the advice to "not re-create Mexico" for me.
I made it through, not without a scar or two. I do not trust my Army Chain of Command. I never will, not after these events. I can only trust 3 fellow soldiers as a result of this. They were the ones who housed me, who spoke up for me by asking my commander the simple question "why don't we call his wife and ask what is really going on?"
I cannot put into words how understanding my civilian supervisor was. She told me "don't come into work until this has been resolved." These 4 people are the only reason I remained (relatively) sane through this ordeal.
It took me 2 months to even consider speaking to my counselor again. I had lost so much trust in the Mental Health field from Mexico, only to have a reckless social worker take the rest away.
I actually confronted this social worker. In my meditations, I always felt her presence gnawing at me. I knew what I had to do, the path was laid out for me. This women is my rapist, the one who took full control away from me and left me for dead. I thought for months about what I would say to her, only because the answer was right in front of me.
I was attending a Buddhist meditation center a few times a month. I would not be feeling her when I was meditating if it did not mean something. So I thought to myself, "What would Buddha do?"
I looked her dead in the eyes and told her that I was confronting my abuser. I told her that she re-created my PTSD and set my recovery back years. I also let her know that I was praying for her soul, "I hope that the harm you caused to me is overshadowed by the good you will accomplish in this life."
01 July 2009
Emotional Abuse
Where I faltered was not the physical. I failed the mental challenges associated with immersion into a world commonly called the "program." Never have I been mentally assaulted like I was at Casa by the Sea.
We had 1.5 hours of group therapy 6 days a week. Our counselors were not certified or trained in the field of mental health. They were locals who could speak English well enough to talk to our parents. I also wouldn't call it "therapy", it was merely a tool for students to advance. It was easy to put someone else down and give them "feedback" in order to make yourself look good.
The entire system worked in one simple way. Students show up. They are physical abused by the staff and emotionally abused by the upper-level students. In order to complete the brainwashing, students progress to the upper-levels and become the abusers, cementing the transition from victim to minion.
I try to put Casa by the Sea into perspective, in a way that can make sense to those who were not there. It was like Basic Training, but it wasn't. It was a little like being deployed, but it wasn't. It was similar to stuff you see in the movies (Holes, But I'm a Cheerleader), but there is nothing funny about being in such a place.
My largest regret is the simple fact that I broke. I think about it like this. I am a Soldier, I am not supposed to give in to my captors. I am supposed to resist and escape. I failed on all accounts. Sure, I wasn't a Soldier yet, but that does not make my incarceration at Casa by the Sea any less traumatic.
I know this section is weak, doesn't go into any specifics. I have yet to truly face down the emotional abuse I had gone through outside of the seminars. When the time comes, I will be able to talk freely about it. My pieces on the seminars will go into greater detail.
We had 1.5 hours of group therapy 6 days a week. Our counselors were not certified or trained in the field of mental health. They were locals who could speak English well enough to talk to our parents. I also wouldn't call it "therapy", it was merely a tool for students to advance. It was easy to put someone else down and give them "feedback" in order to make yourself look good.
The entire system worked in one simple way. Students show up. They are physical abused by the staff and emotionally abused by the upper-level students. In order to complete the brainwashing, students progress to the upper-levels and become the abusers, cementing the transition from victim to minion.
I try to put Casa by the Sea into perspective, in a way that can make sense to those who were not there. It was like Basic Training, but it wasn't. It was a little like being deployed, but it wasn't. It was similar to stuff you see in the movies (Holes, But I'm a Cheerleader), but there is nothing funny about being in such a place.
My largest regret is the simple fact that I broke. I think about it like this. I am a Soldier, I am not supposed to give in to my captors. I am supposed to resist and escape. I failed on all accounts. Sure, I wasn't a Soldier yet, but that does not make my incarceration at Casa by the Sea any less traumatic.
I know this section is weak, doesn't go into any specifics. I have yet to truly face down the emotional abuse I had gone through outside of the seminars. When the time comes, I will be able to talk freely about it. My pieces on the seminars will go into greater detail.
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