EMDR for PTSD

 EMDR for PTSD

If you know what each of these abbreviations stand for, then you may well have experienced them.

I learned them when I suddenly felt I couldn’t get on an airplane because of overwhelming fear.

That was a shocker for me as I love to fly. A high moment in my life was when my husband bought a “tail-dragger” (Cessna 172 aircraft) and promised to teach me how to fly it.

I’d only had a few trips on large commercial planes, so I had no idea the amazing birdlike experience of flying a small plane. It felt like the wings were my arms.

I swooped, looped, and dove, learned how to do barrel rolls and aileron rolls (tail to nose and wing to wing—wheeee). Learned about lift, weight, drag, and thrust. I didn’t pass out during tight turns. Soon, I was doing the pre-flight inspections outside and in the cockpit, navigating, and planning routes as well as doing a lot of the flying.

We flew back and forth between our families in Washington and Oregon, and over lovely beaches and forests. What fun! Sometimes the kids accompanied us too. We began teaching them the basics of flying.
In the plane, I never felt fear or concern. Reasons for that: 1) I had absolute trust in my husband’s abilities. 2) I really didn’t know much about the dangers…had never been in a plane in trouble. 3) I think my body and intuition knew that being afraid during challenges would make me less able to deal with them.

During those many trips, we had a handful of really near calls.

• On one of our first flights, we took my six-year-old daughter along. We flew around Mt. Rainier which was beautiful. But our small plane really wasn’t well enough pressurized for that altitude, and Kris ended up with a broken eardrum…extremely painful.                                                       
• Early in our flights, we went over Mt. St. Helen’s during its prep for eruption…some ash plumes already releasing…but weeks from the big day. However, that was not safe as ash can get into an engine and stop it. We actually had a moment where it quit, but we were able to restart it.                                                                                                                 
• Another time, we suddenly found ourselves flying directly into a dark and turbulent looking storm cloud. My husband whipped the plane around in a super tight wing-pointing-at-the-ground turn, avoiding going nearer to the danger. When we landed, he gave me his hand to show me how sweaty it was—an unusual moment for such a cool cookie.        
• We’d taken the kids with us to some event or fun location. At the time when we needed to leave, there was a thick fog hovering about the small runway. As we were only on VFR (visual flight rules), it was illegal (and not safe) to take-off. However, hubby decided the fog was probably pretty thin, and we’d be out of it “before you know it.” Well, it was an extremely high column, making me feel nervous as we didn’t and still didn’t clear it. Finally, we did. I waited to let my husband “have it” until the children were not nearby. I couldn’t believe he’d taken that chance with them onboard.                                                                                     
• Not too long after that, we were taking my father-in-law for a ride. We were over a really desolate and rugged area with no landing spots in view to any side. (Part of smart flight route planning is to weave in plenty of nearby places to land in case of emergencies.) Suddenly, the plane shuddered off…dead. I’d learned that the immediate thing to do was dive for the gas tank controls and switch on the other tank, hoping the plane would start again with some gas. Although my husband had taught me to do this move, he’d apparently forgotten that, as we banged heads while both of us dove for the controls. Fortunately, neither of us passed out and the plane did restart with the fresh tank. So, “stuff happens,” but Beloved then told me he’d wanted to know how long the tank would last. Not only did we have another person onboard, but we were also not in a location where we could use the wonderful ability of small planes to glide down to any available flat space even without power. I still don’t understand the process he went through that put these elements together for what could have been a family tragedy.        
• Of these six near calls only this one and number three were in no way caused by a mistake of my husband’s. We were flying on a nice day—perfect VFR weather. Suddenly, the nose of another larger plane emerged through a cloud below and in front of us. This was, of course, a rapid experience. As the intruding plane rose rapidly, it was angled toward ours and it seemed entirely possible that we’d collide. With what seemed like inches apart, I watch the belly of that plane moving over us. I could see the bolts. In my memory, I can count the bolts. I felt, the sudden knowledge that I might die. The larger plane making an ascent through a cloud should have been using IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) especially at such an extreme angle. Their fault entirely.                           

At this point, I’ll admit to you that I haven’t named my husband in this piece because…maybe not surprisingly…he is no longer my husband. In fact, he perished several years after our divorce, in a car accident. Four granddaughters were with him. One died, another one is paralyzed from the waist down, two others survived. He’d fallen asleep while a rather inexperienced teen granddaughter drove.

The plane had been sacrificed a few years after our marriage when my ex-husband attempted to take-off from a small airport into too strong a wind. This was turned over to the FAA (Federal Aviation Association) and he lost his license to fly.
 
The final thing that I think tipped me into PTSD was right before I decided on divorce. We’d gone to a fair and got on the really large Ferris Wheel. We got stopped at the top for some excruciating minutes. No longer was this man a person who made me feel safe. In fact, he took hold of the sides of the seat and began to rock and tip it, harder and harder. It was terrifying. I pleaded with him to stop, but he was acting like it was all a joke. He did stop but it felt like an eternity.

These incidents didn’t solidify into a fear of flying for several years. I no longer owned a plane but did have a fun seaplane flight during the interim on a date with Brad…my now husband of 35 years.

The PTSD was truly awakened when I was struck by a truck in the passenger side and out of my view. It was a minor accident with small harm to me or the car, but I began to have weird symptoms. Even with my cautious husband driving, I’d react to passing by other cars at intersections, literally screaming and grabbing to take the wheel. Beyond that, I was afraid to drive, afraid to go through tunnels or over bridges, or to fly.

I was diagnosed with PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder—"anxiety, repetitive thoughts, flashbacks, and other symptoms connected to a disturbing event or events.”

EMDR was recommended. EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Francine Shapiro developed this when she noticed that rapid eye movements helped sufferers of PTSD to have less severe symptoms.

I’d like to say that this was a quick process, but it took a couple of years. My therapist tapped on my knees to direct my eye movements while I had to talk my way through every unsettling moment I’d had in my life. 

The process did begin to work quickly though. Quite soon, I stopped grabbing for the driver’s wheel when not driving. Also, soon, I realized I needed to drive to my jobs and didn’t want to lose those. One evening, I bit the bullet and practiced driving to my most distant teaching location over and over, ending up doing joyous figure eights in the parking lot…never to have either of those problems again.

Tunnels and bridges just faded into the background but flying still held fears. I considered never flying again. Certainly, I could do anything I needed to do on the ground.

But my love of flying won out, and I did not want to give in to this fear, especially as I know enough about flying to respect how safe it is.

I spent a lot of time and money but have had a couple of glorious flights to Hawaii and one to the Grand Canyon…thanks to EMDR and a good therapist.

Ariele M. Huff hosts Sharing Stories, creates Writing Corner, gathers poems, and edits them for Poetry Corner. She teaches online, ZOOM, and Skype classes; edits manuscripts and authors books—over 30 on Amazon; and publishes herself and others on brands Candy Bar Books and Band Aid Books.

SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
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