Do you want to know more about living with complex PTSD/DISSOCIATION DISORDER? “TUSSILA’S B00K I” is out!

FOR FREE THROUGHOUT JULY 

“Tussila’s Book I” is now enrolled in

SMASHWORDS

2017 July Summer/Winter Sale!

July 1 – 31, 2017

It took me nearly fifteen years to accomplish this dream, but now finally my diary from psychiatric emergency care is published! I very much hope that this book can help to better understand various aftereffects due to childhood traumas!

So far, the responses I have received have been overwhelmingly positive. Many people have already thanked me for sharing my story.

I hope you too will take this opportunity and I am very excited to hear your opinion on my book, please feel free to comment when you have read it!

Hurry to tap  one the of the direct links below to download “TUSSILA’S BOOK I” for free:

Smashwords   Apple   Kobo   Barnes&Noble

Inktera (formerly Page Foundry)   Overdrive

FRONT PAGE, 1.4 MB

 REVIEWS ON TUSSILA’S BOOK I

  “The emotions are so strong in this book that the first time I read it I was crying along with her, laughing with her, angry with her. The strength to go on is inspirational itself.
If you have ever wanted to know what it is like to live with PTSD this is the perfect book.
The paintings are straightforward and inspirational as well.
Health care professionals should definitely read this. I cannot imagine the pain she must have gone through to come out strong enough to share her story. It must have taken an immeasurable amount of courage to post her personal diary.
Everyone has a different story, Tussila has chosen to share her story with the world. Her desperation, and the road to recovery.
“I have no illness; I have an injury. Who would call a traffic accident victim sick, or ill?”
Amazing book. Worth every tear just to have clarity again.”
Review written by Megan Starkweather at:

 Please share with your friends and colleges!

Thank you so much, warmest regards from Tussila Spring =)

ABOUT TUSSILA’S BOOK

Tussilago variations

ABOUT TUSSILA’S BOOK

We are all individual human beings. This fact also counts whether we have a diagnosis or not. It would be a mistake to say that all patients involved in, for instance, a traffic accident, require exactly the same medical treatment. There probably will be a need for individual medical attention and treatment, depending on the injuries and the patient’s ability to cope with the trauma. However, some of the treatments sustained will probably also be similar for many of the patients. This is also true for us suffering from other traumas like incest or bullying. We also are all individual human beings.
Therefore, I am, by no means, trying to look at my story as a universal guide of what complex posttraumatic stress disorder concerns. I don’t even believe it is possible to write such a book because of the wide range in individual histories and personalities.
However, as in the traffic accident, there will also be some similarities concerning the victims involved in childhood traumas. As I have learned, during years in therapy, there will also be similarities concerning the symptoms and aftereffects in survivors suffering from such traumas.
Those similarities have made me conclude that it would be wrong of me to assume that my story and symptoms differ too much from others to be of any interest. In other words, what if my experiences actually can make a difference, wouldn’t it be egoistic of me not to share them?
When it comes to my own understanding of my psychiatric diagnoses, it’s not as if I suddenly saw the light and then it all came clear to me. My road to understanding, and thereby to get a better life, has been, and will be, as in life itself, long, and slow moving and with many curves and hills on the way. The understanding has not appeared in one single flash of light either; it has consisted of all sorts of lights or all sorts of enlightening moments. I have had small lights, large glints, hardly visible shimmers, flashing lights; I have sensed the whole range of lights, especially in the last twelve years. These lights, small or large, have appeared mostly due to therapy. Looking back, let’s say one decade, I really am baffled when I realize how little I understood of myself back then.
I’ve been told from many holds that my challenges in life are not that far from what the others face, except for the prevalence and extremity of some of the symptoms. Based on those assumptions, it might be fair to suggest that the following statement isn’t very wrong, at least I hope, because that implicates also, I’m not that apart from other human beings as I used to believe:
Though I’m quite sure that nobody will recognize everything I’m describing in this book, I’m equally quite sure that everybody, diagnosed or not diagnosed, will recognize some of it.
I hope that by publishing this book I can offer one or two of the previously mentioned lights, or enlightening, mentioned above, to help bring other survivors closer to their way to a better life.

Thank you for your time!

TUSSILA’S BOOK, CLOSE TO PUBLISHING, words of encouragement to the author

cropped-book-cover-for-webpages3.jpg

All right, Tussila. I can see you are struggling these days, and I don’t blame you. Really, I don’t.

You have been working so intensely with the book for such a long time. Can I just say that I am very proud of you, because your big project is getting so close to being accomplished? Very close. This project, which actually has kept you going through so many year, is about to reach its destination. This project, has kept you alive, by pouring will and determination into you, in periods when you nearly have given up life again.

Coming so close to realizing your big dream, marks in itself a point of overwhelmingly change in your life. I do understand that.

However, this isn’t the main challenge these days. I know that too. The greatest struggles are caused by the paintings. The text, you have gone through several times over the last year. You have crossed the lines of reluctance, of shame, of embarrassment many times during the process of translating, re-reading and correcting. You have gone through the text so many times that it doesn’t rip you open anymore. You have even had it red by strangers, by test-readers out in the big world. They have given you surprisingly warm and supporting responses so far. They have even praised you for your work and for your braveness for sharing your story.

No, it’s not the text, Tussila. It’s the paintings. You have just been doing some research, and you have found that the original 97 paintings must be reduced to 35 for part one of Tussila’s Book. If not, it will be very complicated and expensive to publish the planned e-book edition.

Further, you have recently opened the image files, and you have started to prepare all the paintings to fit into the document. The paintings from chapter one aren’t so bad to go over, plus you have seen them many times during the work with chapter one. It’s the paintings from chapter two and three, which really tears you apart, isn’t it? The paintings you made when you had lost all your fences. When you were about to die, and in a last attempt to survive showed yourself naked, stripped for all dignity and self-respect, lying open like a stanching wound with nothing left to cover yourself with.

These are the paintings you are working with now. You haven’t seen them for years. No wonder, this is tough Tussila. You are allowed to hesitate, to resent for a while. You are allowed to be sad, even depressed for a while. Don’t you worry, you might get used to the paintings too, as you did with the text.

Also, let’s make a deal Tussila. I know it is very hard, not to say impossible, to choose only one third from this large pile of paintings, they were almost equally important when you painted them. Remember Tussila, in the first place, we planned to make a print version. The e-book is only an attempt to finance the print version. So, all your paintings will be published in the print version. Until then, they will be kept safe in you drawers and on the computer.

If we think about it, maybe it is enough to publish 35 paintings as a start? Maybe it’s more than enough for now. All right, Tussila? Let’s go then!

First, a cup of coffee. Well done Tussila, (and myself too for that matter…)

It is happening right now! I mean my book-project is happening, yes it is, right now it is!

This I really must share with you my dear followers! You may rightly have wondered why my blog name “Tussila’s book-publishing blog” differs so much from my recent content in it. And you sure are right to wonder too. The case is that I had some attempts last year to find somebody willing to test-read for me, however since none of these attempts led to actually finding someone, I needed to put the project on the shelve for a while. As you surely can imagine, it takes a lot of courage to share ones life story, and it takes even more courage to have to ask over and over again if somebody would test read it… Especially when you are experiencing that your emails aren’t even replied to.

This is the reason I have been posting all these images lately, I had to do something while building up some more book-publishing courage, didn’t I?! Looking back, this period have been important for me too, actually. Maybe the delay was for the best in the long run, I love to make images. And some day, when my book finally is out there on its own. This is what I will do, make images all the time, for the rest of my life.

Now, however, book-publishing things are happening again. A few weeks ago, there was a very sweet woman making contact with me, offering to test read, just like that! You can imagine how my heart started to speed up, and how I tried to remember where and how I had planned to transfer the first chapter, if only somebody would care to read it, not to mention where on earth I had saved it, and this fantastic woman, Shruti, is actually one of the bloggers here at WordPress: http://shrutiinsights.wordpress.com/ , and I really would like to share with you all, how excited I am these days. After thirteen years, my book finally is happening. I have already sent chapter two over to her, for test-reading, and have started to translate the third one. I cant explain how relieved I am feeling that she wish to help me through the process. She does much more than test-reading and suggests corrections. She gives me the courage to keep going, I just can’t believe how lucky I have been, meeting her!

Hmh, I had planned to create this post without attaching an image to it, but is seems almost impossible now, the text looks so colorless in a way. So, I need to add one after all, even if the content doesn’t match the text at all.

Or maybe it does? I made this image yesterday, when I was thinking about how lucky I am, and about what opportunities laying ahead of me. Most importantly, I was thinking about how fantastic it is too meet people like Shruti, along with many other nice people out there, or inside here, if you wish. I send you all my warmest regards, and I wish you a wonderful weekend ahead =)

Village
“Village”

Photo-manipulation/digital work, Tussila Spring 2015

Thank you for reading and viewing!

Tussila’s roaring #stigma-fighting fifties!

I don’t know why, but today I’m angry, I’m so angry that in this writing moment, I can’t sit still on my chair, and my back is much straighter than normal, my neck is straighter, my eyes is glancing down on the screen, instead of straight forward at it. All that because I, in this writing moment is taller than normal.

Why this rage, and why now? Is it helpful? is it appropriate? Does this anger point anywhere, and in that case , in what direction does it point?

I will tell you: It points in the direction where the ignorance-believers, the belittling-teams , the professional know-how-experts and the patronizing-lovers live. My anger is an arrow and a sword, which purpose is to strike those communities where it all seems so easy to solve the complex injuries that often follows from childhood traumas. By all means, there are a lot of very competent people out there, trying to help and doing a fantastic job. This goes to those people in various health care units who really isn’t very interested in their patients well-being, and who still claims that they are doing a good job helping.

Most of all, I wish to say, loud and clear, and I will continue repeating as long as necessary: I never allow anybody to call me mentally ill, without me correcting it. What I have is injuries, mostly mental injuries that somebody has inflicted upon me, from the outside. I was perfectly fine when I was born. If I should allow anybody to call me mentally sick, mentally ill, or mentally poorly, I would see myself as weak, because then no causes would be mentioned to explain my condition, and all my courage and strength would disappear.

I therefore, without exceptions, always claim that I have mental injuries. That claim also clearly indicates that there are abusers and wrong-doers in my child history, and that they are responsible for my diagnoses, and not myself. That is my main point. And I guess that my rage mostly comes from the fact that I recently have noticed that terms like “mentally injuries” hardly exists on the web. As far as I can see, the majority still is tagging all mental disorders as “mentally ill”, “mentally sick” and so forth…

And I don’t understand why!

The diagnoses complex post-traumatic stress-disorder clearly has the word trauma in it. I what contexts is it proper to say that the word trauma means ill? As far as I can see, the understanding of the word trauma, is only mixed up when it comes to psychiatry.
Why on earth is that? Can somebody explain what purpose it has, to alter the meaning of diagnostic terms from the somatic health care to the mental health care?

I can not explain it, nor can I understand it.

I’m sorry for this outburst, I hope that I didn’t offend anybody, I just had to get it of my chest!

Knowing myself fairly well, I guess there will be a calmer image posted later today…

Tussila, Tussila, what have we done? Should we close our eyes or should we run?

What happened a few days ago was following incident:

We were denied to post to one of the established psychology communities, they even put black lines over our headlines, before we had the chance to remove it, commenting their action with: quote “this is not the community to share personal medical/psychological history”.

Yes, I got upset. Yes, Tussila got upset too. We removed the postings and gave the new situation a thought.

After a while, we actually found it amusing. For the first time, after being present online for two months, our posts were unwanted, and where did it happen; in a psychology community. And why; because they wasn’t interested in personal experiences. I must have got it all wrong, I always have believed that psychology tends to be somewhat personal…

Well, after licking the wounds for a while, we returned at the arena. And this is what we have done: We have created a community on our own!

2015-01-025

If you wish to see what we came up with in there, please do visit us at:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/communities/115181410365704605673

If you fits criteria and wants to join us, you are most welcome to, also if you are a therapist, social worker or support-person, as long as you join personally!

Thank you very much for reading!

Now Tussila, lets close our eyes and run!

Yes, I have a severe mental diagnosis, but is that all that I have?

My psycho-motor therapist made me a drawing some years ago.

I was, as usual, very upset because I still wasn’t able to work and still wasn’t able to take part in the social life. The drawing she made was simple: She drew a circle, which she divided in two. She then told me that even if I fail in participating in one of the half”, we might call it the social half’, she wanted to remind me that I usually did not fail in the other half’, the creative one.

Listen Tussila, she then said, you need to try spending as much time as you can in the latter, don’t you!

Yes, she was right, that’s where I need to spend most of my time, and these days, that is exactly what I do!

The child is never to blame

Entering the playroom

Illustration from Tussila's Book

Many, many years ago, maybe almost a lifetime ago, something important occurred in my mind. Now, I would like to share this experience with you.

I was in a dark place. I can’t remember what this particular darkness was about, it was just one of those numberless dark periods of me realizing that I don’t fit in nowhere.

I guess we all are in such places from time to time, some of us rarely, some of us almost always.

The feeling might be familiar to you, the desperation when trying, the overwhelming sadness when failing, the envy of those who seemingly so easily succeeds. Succeeds in taking part of the society, in making friends, in establishing families, in being happy.

Myself at that time, I wanted to smash into pieces the television screen, because the female program host was so pretty and looked so self assure. Though I didn’t do it; after all, the TV was the only distraction tool I owned, and I had no money to by a new one. Besides, I was far too afraid to unleash my rage.

What happens, when frustrations and disappointments loads up over years, when there seems to be nobody particular to blame, when it all boils down to; It’s my fault, I’m useless, I’m worth nothing, I will always be a failure.
I was in this state for a long period. I was choking in my bitterness. I was crawling in my misery, thinking I’d just as well drown myself in it. My self-hatred knew no limits.

Then it happened; I suddenly got aware of a little girl standing in a corner. Her eyes were wide open in fear. She hardly was breathing. It seemed that she tried to hide inside the wall, the way she pushed her tiny back against it. I could feel that she feared for her life. I could feel that I was the one that terrified her. And suddenly; I realized that she also was a part of me.

Then, after some serious thinking, I turned to myself with the following words:

Yes, you are angry. Yes you are boiling over in frustration, and that I understand. However, you are not alone in there. Inside of you there is also a little girl. This little girl just wants to be a little girl. She wants to feel safe and appreciated. Right now, the little girl really wish to paint and draw on a sheet of paper, and you will allow her to. You will organize for her a work station at the table, you will get bowls of water and sheets of paper and paint and brushes for her. Then you will gently lift her up and place her on the chair, wiping the tears off her face, saying sorry, I’m so sorry I frightened you that badly. Now, you go on painting, I will make us cocoa and something to eat, and then I’ll join you at the table.

And so I did. Not at once though, I had to go some more rounds with my self first. At last I gave in, concluding:
To be in this state of self-destructive-ness does no good anyway. If I expect somebody to come help me out of it, knocking on my door offering me comfort and support, let’s face it: Nobody will. In fact, I am the only person who knows what I’m going through now, and I am the only person that can deal with it.
It is perfectly fine being this mad, I am allowed to be as mad as I want to, when ever I want to. However, this does not mean that it is fair to blame the little girl inside. She has nothing to do with it. This is adult affairs. And besides, who knows; maybe in the long run the little girl inside actually turns out being the one that leads you out of this misery, to a nicer place?