Post-Traumatic Growth
David Rolands PhD in his book, The Power of Suffering: Growing through life crises 2020, through several life stories voices the philosophy that underpins the five domains of post-traumatic growth as developed by psychologists Richard Tedeschi, PhD, and Lawrence Calhoun, PhD, in the mid-1990s. It is suggested as the Phoenix rises from its ashes, people who have faced severe trauma suffering one or more crises may develop the resilience and courage to pass through their ordeals and live on. I have endured several crises that have crushed my ability to make the most of life’s opportunities. Nevertheless, I am now aware that becoming low about my difficult circumstances will not help me and this is my take on the five domains discussed in The Power of Suffering: existential or philosophical change, appreciation of life, relating to others, new possibilities, and personal strength.
Firstly, to grow through trauma we need to get over pretending that we are not going to die and therefore have to convince ourselves the world is a safe and reliable place. Rather eventually many things may become incomprehensible and buried in time. This includes what others think considering they hardly give us a thought, let alone a reasonable one. Life is for the living, I will not be shackled down by the misery of others. It is my experience to avoid people who are mentally-ill as they are poison to my life. Apparently, we have to care about humanity although most of its members are insufferable from close up. This was true of my family and later certain work colleagues. We have to look forward to the future but from what fate had in store for me, I certainly would not want to know. Being me means and has always meant being able to find the striving needed to maintain my distinct identity for more than seventy years, with all the pain and torment that has been inflicted upon me. I have had to stay on my side knowing deep inside I was crazy and strange. This developed because I have always been terrified by the violence of the world but also the explosive anger that I carry as an autistic person called a meltdown. As a child I was demonized for my behaviour by my insensitive parents and I stayed fragile and afraid. As an adult I was berated for my autistic traits and I stayed hypervigilant and lonely. As an older man I am criticized for expressing my discomfort at my cancer outcomes and I stay angry and sad. I have not grown more compassionate about others because of the hurt inflicted upon me as suggested in stories in the The Power of Suffering 2020. A lot of harm done is stupidity, humans are not rational and some want to judge someone they think they knew twenty or more years ago. They are incapable of living or accepting the present.
Nevertheless, I have an appreciation of life; I enjoy movement and my independence. Regardless of some horrible situations and awful people I have the ability to move on, even growing slowly. Even if this meant I did not follow the expectations of a society which I found hollow and cruel. I could not find myself content in a society that rejected my sexual identity nor recognized my neurodiversity. For years, I was physically beaten and constantly criticized then berated when I failed to live up to other’s expectations. I am autistic, I do not always understand people as there is a barrier, I cannot read people well, and I have never understood how the world operates. My life has been made up of chunks of intense activity separated by periods of time alone. My autism has caused me my worst crises as people have misunderstood my intentions or seeing my naivety have moved to use and abuse me. My career in pottery was stymied by my inability to handle challenging people. Now, I have no choice in art making but to paint pictures and keep away from crazymakers; my contacts have been diminished.
My relationships with others were shaped by my difficult childhood. My early depression was never attended to and I was abandoned by careless parents to find my own way. Born to a farmer who was locked up emotionally from his life experiences which he did not speak about and a mother who did not just become schizophrenic in 1980 with her diagnosis, but was always suspicious and competitive with her own children. Looking back she was childish. I would start work at fifteen to support the family into a private mortgage when the share-farm collapsed for my father. A period of history never fairly acknowledged by my parents or siblings. I left school and left home to escape the violence of my father made worse by my mother leaving to have an affair. She was never truthful about that time and spread the story she had left home to look for me. I was shocked to find my siblings allowed that lie to travel, my family was the basis for moral outrage throughout my life. Even being the victim of violent crime later never approached the betrayal of my family. Later I found groups that smelt like family could lie about those they wanted to ostracise, like me. Dad would die when I was seventeen from a heart attack and Crazy Daisy my mother would live on to torment me for thirty-two years. There was no mentoring or kindness which left me unprepared for the traumas I would face. I grew up to be a loner regardless of having two brothers and two sisters; the age gaps were too wide. Some families fail. Sometimes I enjoy the company of others, often I do not; it is boring to mask my autism all the time. Instead I have developed a rich inner life that gives me sustenance in isolation. It was protection; I just wanted to make my art and crafts and be left alone. Unfortunately people who have poor mentoring in their early lives will find life harder to manage. Trust is an issue as I wait for the disappointment. It can be extremely difficult for a person with autism to move on from past memories and experiences, I ruminate about past negative situations.
New possibilities in life after crises present real challenges but are essential to move on. Presently my prospects in life have been diminished by my age and cancer. However I have personal strength; I have lived through many ordeals from homelessness in my youth to malicious false accusations in later years. Such toxic memories are violations of my dignity that activate my PTSD and present a hard challenge to move past. The platitudes of others to placate me are as toxic. I accept my old age will mostly be distress, pains and catheters; it already is. It has been my experience, although we hope to look forward to the next few years with excitement, most days are a trail of disappointments and our expectations are dashed. There is widespread evidence of the invasive nature of cancer treatment and the detrimental impact on a person’s social, financial, and psychological wellbeing. Earlier after recovering from major surgery from being a stabbing victim at twenty-three, I would eventually find myself living in a tin shed with three cats going slowly mad. But I would gather my wits and go to Art College and had the best three years of my life after I had been put through the horrifying late seventies mental health system. As I said, I had a late start and unfortunately I always seem to be starting again.
My resilience is built on an ability to see the bigger picture of us all moving on to annihilation which is well considering the heartbreak I endure. I have had it drawn to my attention that I have never had reliable confidants. My cancer treatment has made me older, physically weak and vulnerable. The radical surgery scarred me and cut nerves, the radiology has caused deafness and tinnitus, while immunology has caused severe psoriasis flares over forty percent of my body and aggravated psoriatic arthritis in my hip. Good thoughts are sometimes hard to hold onto. Nevertheless, cancer is just another trauma in my life. People soon understand what sort of person I am when faced with adversity. I will crash and burn, have on many terrible occasions, but I come back with a fierce determination to metamorphize into someone they will not manage. Changing in the face of enforced demands is something I either do quickly or resentfully slow. Meaning I will weigh up the options and burn my bridges, turn my back on those that have abused me, and leave those places and situations where no peace can get in. Teaching high schoolers was brutal and the bullying from senior staff left me depressed and I threw that profession away for the sake of my sanity. Abusing my trust or taking me for granted will get you burned in my phoenix fire whether people or situations, there is no difference. My values are beliefs that are essential for determining who or what is desirable or undesirable to me like integrity, independence, health, knowledge, and bravery.
There have been occasions I fell into the despair created by those good at manipulation, good at guilt trips, and deceit. A narcissistic colleague in a gallery grabbed me in a viper’s grip, something that continues to the present over twenty years of damage, as narcissists will never let you go. I ignore the emails and phone messages she sends, following me on social media, and the use of her proxies stops my interest in local art events. My mother also used proxies to attack me at my art events further afield to undermine my confidence and joy; schizophrenics often have narcissistic characteristics. However, the most important thing underpinning my resilience is a determination to do something with my abilities. You need to rise to the occasion, whatever it is, it is indeed a question of mastering your circumstances. My view of the world has evolved from study and observations. I do not need be loved and understood by a whole lot of people, such attention is ever more in doubt. My crises have changed me at those points in my trajectory. Others expected me to be famous, I never desired that, some acknowledgement is encouraging, but living through other’s hard work is lazy. Popularity has little substance. Only pets may love unconditionally. Using social media means I engage with others. I have stayed in a long-term relationship because my values were never to be promiscuous, ruthless, or divisive. My partnership has survived when so many others have failed because I had no expectation Neil would fix what was broken in me and vice versa. Also it was a matter I preferred quiet company to drama, glitz and glamour; I picked the quiet and gentle one.
Crazily we have to believe that humanity collectively is making progress although most new inventions, like nuclear power and AI, unleashes potential appalling unintended consequences. A lot of things and activities like buying or collecting things seldom make any difference to our lives. Even traveling, unless maybe potentially off-world or walking trips, is always better in memory or hope. Our so-called friends will gossip about us and we would be devastated by hearing what really goes through their heads. This was true as a mature-age student at university where I was vilified by younger students who despised my work ethic and mocked my looks and bluntness. I received Honours, they did not which never meant anything because I never found a place to use them effectively. Fitting in is difficult for me, so I seldom bother now. Feeling self-conscious, afraid, and anxious can make it harder for autistic people to establish friendships. When friendships change or finish then negative self-talk overrides good sense and autistic people can begin to believe they are not capable of making friends. Frankly, it can be difficult for others to be aware of the special interests of autistic people and what they are looking for in a friend.
There is an uncomfortable fact about self-awareness, we lie to ourselves about situations to make them better than they invariably are. Sometimes to enjoy life may mean we delude ourselves by weaving illusions about how good and fair the world is, social media feeds the lies. Better to move with purpose, make mistakes and often you will not. That is my resilience, my ability to move past dreadful stuff. Cancer has taught me that oncology cannot heal everything that is broken by the disease. This leaves a lot for me to do, my focus is on my future. My values fine-tuned by brutal events means I do not stand on others but I will not respect just anyone, I am picky and reject overbearing or needy types very quickly. Uncomfortable incidents occurred at the hospital I am being treated because of low trust with others. Gratitude is something I do not do, it suggests manipulation, rather I am appreciative. Whether it is wise to spend a lot of money to save older patients needs to be considered. Maybe I should have resisted and died. Instead, all my fears were tested as I underwent excruciating treatments. I passed all the tests; it is something I do well. Change often comes too late in my life. So now, time to put energy into painting and the life I have now as a cancer survivor, these are the most important things I can do. Focusing on my health requires an acceptance that my scars tell a story and remind me of my resilience. Some days I will walk for hours causing blisters and irritating my psoriasis but I do not care. Being out in the world as an observer is medicine and always has been. A wanderer at heart, the Tarot’s Hermit or a loner stepping out where angels dare not tread. My traumas have told me to chill out, only look for what really matters presently, and hone those values that I can expect to be returned in kind.
I identify with the stories of moral outrage described in the book, as well of the intrusive nature of serious disease and the hospitalization required. Many of the stories discussed the many people they depended whether friends, community, or family. This was restricted for me. I had Neil who looked shell-shocked when he saw the surgery staples in my neck. He has stood by me and I am glad and appreciative he did. There was no holistic culture at the oncology wards, unless you liked being a patient and those people exist. Not people I want to know, I moved out of the surgery ward as quickly as I could and visiting the hospital is a painful reminder of everything terrible: overbearing doctors and nurses, loud patients, ugly smells, and intrusion. I have as with my other traumas moved through it as quickly as I could. Bad memories will return, often with the physical discomfort I must endure for the rest of my life. However, I am a survivor and all I can be granted by others are dry platitudes which mean nothing. Rather it is the choices I can make that enable me to grow on. Bad memories will surface: my insane mother, narcissistic colleagues, and those who have wounded me. And they mostly will pass like sand through my fingers and like an hour-glass a turn of events will bring on triggers and rumination. I deal with it; despair is futile, like anyone with PTSD, depression, and rumination, I look forward to a day which is calm and there is no pain. One thing I have in common with all the lives in the book is that there is an ending to our time. Regardless of how we deal with our suffering, the amount of time left is finite. So that makes how we finish our lives valuable.
