Going Within

Vanessa Albright

Description

To find out what causes you to react the way you do.
This is the memoir of how I went from being an emotionally unhappy, fearful, candle-in-the-wind person to becoming a happy, calm, stable and well-balanced person. This is about the journey I took to get there which was a long, difficult ride but I finally arrived a much happier person. I took a hard look at what was going on inside of me and found out what triggered my pain and suffering. Looking back I realize the journey was so worth it.

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• PTSD
• Biography
• Posttraumatic stress disorder
• Anger
• Autobiography
• Trouble de stress post-traumatique

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 19 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663243034
• Langue: English

Extrait

GOING WITHIN




Vanessa Albright









GOINGWITHIN


Copyright © 2022 Vanessa Albright.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.






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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-4304-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4303-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022913707



iUniverse rev. date: 10/11/2022



I dedicate this book to my beloved parents, family, and friends, all of whom have taught me so much, helping me along my spiritual journey.



Contents
Chapter 1 Early Life
Chapter 2 Early Life
Chapter 3 My Father
Chapter 4 My Father
Chapter 5 My Mother
Chapter 6 Adult Years
Chapter 7 Losing My Parents
Chapter 8 Spiritual
Chapter 9 Sleep
Chapter 10 Health
Chapter 11 Anger
Chapter 12 Therapy
Chapter 13 The War Within
Chapter 14 The Bubble Effect
Chapter 15 The Healing Begins: Turning Point
Chapter 16 Beginning To Heal The War Within
Chapter 17 Building Confidence
Chapter 18 Learning To Love
Chapter 19 Past Life
Chapter 20 Neurofeedback And Helplessness
Chapter 21 Conclusion

Notes



Chapter 1
EARLY LIFE
Nervously, I sat in the reception room of the huge hospital with my mother, waiting to be called for my surgery. We already had taken care of the tedious medical insurance paperwork, and now we were waiting for the staff to take me away. The waiting room was a beautiful, comfortable area with high ceilings, natural light flowing through, and lovely plants. We waited and waited, until my doctor finally appeared to tell us they were running behind in surgeries, but I was to be taken in soon. I was shaking with fear, and not being allowed to eat all day did not help things. I was frightened, as I had no idea how this major operation would go. My imagination was running wild, though I knew the bottom line: I was going to be sliced open, stitched up, put in some weird contraptions, drugged, and helpless for some time.
It was 1993, and I was forty-one years old, facing the first of what turned out to be three total hip replacements, two on the right side and one on the left.
When I woke up in my hospital room after the surgery, I had plastic air pumps on both sides of my legs, pumping air up and down in timed intervals all day and night. It was annoying, and I found it nearly impossible to sleep. I never felt any pain, though, as they let me regulate my morphine intake with a little handheld pump conveniently set by my bedside.
Within a day, I was feeling hot and itchy, perspiring constantly, imagining things, breaking down in tears when I was awake, and having nightmares when I did manage to sleep. Later, I explained what I was going through in the hospital to my brother, and he said it sounded as if I were seriously overmedicated on morphine. I realized I had no business regulating my medication, especially in that confused state. Fortunately, I was never given that awful freedom again, as patients’ controlling their medication apparently was stopped, at least with that type of procedure.
My fear of doctors and medical institutions goes way back to my first memory in life, some forty years prior to that surgery. The memory is of my being confused and frightened and screaming at the top of my lungs. I was an eighteen-month-old baby alone on a physician’s examination table, with two big strangers on both sides. They were doing something I was sure was horrible to me, and it involved a loud noise. We were in a light blue room with bright lights shining directly at me. The big person in charge to my right, who I later found out was an orthopedic physician, was sawing off a cast he had put on me months earlier, while the person to my left must have been his assistant. Confused, I did not know what these people were doing, but they were scary and determined. They came at me with a noisy thing, and I was sure they were going to hurt me. I screamed and screamed. Why wasn’t anyone helping me? I screamed so loudly that my parents, who were down the hall in the waiting area, heard me, and I suppose everyone else in the office did as well.
My name is Vanessa Albright, although my family refer to me by the nickname Van. I was born in California in 1952 to Mary and Joseph Albright. We lived in various places in the Los Angeles area, where my mom largely had been raised. My dad was just out of the navy, having served in the Pacific during World War II. He’d just finished attending a university when they met and married. For the first five years of my life, we lived in Southern California before we made the big move to Northern California, where my parents raised my two siblings and me and remained for the rest of their lives.
I came into the world with bilateral hip dysplasia, which means that both of my hip joints had not formed correctly and were dislocated. This was discovered when the pictures taken at my first birthday party were developed, showing me standing awkwardly behind a tray table that had my cake on it. After discovering this, my parents took me to see my first orthopedic doctor, who put me in a cast. I was unable to move, and the cast stayed on me for about six months, until the awful ordeal of the cast removal.
This was 1954, when there were few orthopedic physicians specializing in treating children. My doctor was just out of the army. My mother said he was a nice man who did not mean me any harm and felt bad after my screaming incident. He must have been frustrated and unsure how to treat a baby instead of his usual adult patients.
Fortunately, after the cast-removal debacle, the doctor referred us to an orthopedic physician specializing in children. My new doctor’s name was Dr. Fred Ilfeld, and he practiced in Beverly Hills. I found out years later not only that this type of doctor was rare in those days but also that Dr. Ilfeld was a top-rated physician in the field of orthopedics. After we started seeing him, I was put into an Ilfeld brace. As with the cast, standing or moving around on my own was impossible with the brace, except when I was put into my Taylor Tot stroller, which my dad had modified to enable me to get around somewhat. For the most part, throughout my toddler years, I was stationed in one place.
My mom drove me across Los Angeles every three weeks to see Dr. Ilfeld and get new x-rays to monitor my progress. She drove us in a dark gray 1954 Pontiac I referred to as “the Pank.” My mother described it as a luxurious, deluxe model for its time, large and heavy. I particularly remember the huge, rolled, tufted seats because they were so soft and plush. She would set me down in the Pank, and before long, I would flop over, falling asleep. I can still feel the softness of the seats on my cheeks. Later on, when I was older, my mom often referred to those trips as “having to lug you across town every three weeks for years to get new x-rays.” It made me feel like an inconvenience and an obligation. She told me, “You were a financial drain on us then.” Maybe she expected me to crawl to the doctor’s office or thumb a ride and pay for the appointment too. When I became an adult, she mentioned several times how much she disliked caretaking. There was no doubt in my mind she meant it. Having to hear about how she had to lug me across town to see my hip doctor every three weeks for x-rays time after time, I believed her, although I was never quite sure why she was telling me that. I felt shame and guilt. I was a burden to the two people I loved and relied on the most.
My parents both said Dr. Ilfeld was a loving, kind man who adored children. Over the years, many times, my dad told me that if the doctor had wanted to adopt me, he would have gladly agreed. Sometimes Dr. Ilfeld took me in front of medical committees to discuss my current situation, progress made, and the best course of action to follow. Back then, my parents had no medical insurance and were just starting out, so they could not afford a doctor, let alone a Beverly Hills specialist. Knowing their situation, Dr. Ilfeld would sometimes waive the charges for his services. His brace remained on me until I was five years old and started school.
Even though we had moved on to a new, more specialized doctor, the disturbing event of having my cast taken off by my first orthopedic doctor stayed with me for years. Afraid of loud noises, according to my mom, I would burst into tears when she turned on the vacuum cleaner. She had to wait until I was gone to use it. I do not remember the outbursts over the vacuum cleaner, but I do remember clearly as a child and even a teenager being afraid of motorcycles, lawn mowers, and fireworks. When I was sixteen, I attended a Fourth of July fireworks celebration with my friends. Except for on television, I had not seen a fireworks presentation before, so I was excited to be