Trauma, Pets, and Coaching - caution - strong emotional triggers

Hi, All,

If you are an animal lover, this post will be a trigger.  If  you have lost someone in a traumatic way, this will be a trigger, and I ask you to consider seriously not reading it.  I  am sharing with you a very personal story about how coaching changed my life, but it is gory and gruesome along the way.  

As you may know, we go to Maine every summer.  You may also know we have dogs.  Our first dog was a chocolate lab named Hershey.  She was the sweetest, and so good with our boys.  We got her when the twins were about a year and a half old.  When she was about 8, we were in Maine and rented a pontoon boat.  We didn't know there was supposed to be a gate on the front to keep anyone from slipping off the front, and going between the pontoons and through the motor.  At one point, with all of us on the boat, we slowed down.  Hershey lost her balance and fell off the front.  We felt the motor hit her.  She came up, thrashing and struggling.  My husband jumped in to get her.  Our darling girl, who had never even nipped a bad child jumping on her or pulling any number of her body parts, bit my husband as he approached and wouldn't let go.  They sank under the water - maybe the most terrifying moment of my life.  He came up, but was obviously injured.  I jumped in after him, to grab him in case he went into shock and couldn't make it back to the boat.  

We got him on the boat.  He  had a huge gash that went through his cheek, and a flap of his face was hanging free.  We put pressure on it, and tried to figure out what to do.  A person with a nearby camp heard our screaming and came to help.  They told us they would follow Hershey, and try to get her to shore, and help her if they could.  We took Phil back to our camp to head to the ER.  He ended up with 40 stitches and 3 hours of work in the ER.  Hershey made it to shore, was not able to be saved, and these wonderful people put her down so my parents didn't need to.

I had 3 days where I did not sleep at all because the scene replayed itself behind my eyes whenever I closed them.  I had debilitating PTSD and flashbacks for more than a year.  They would leave me sweating, shaking and crying.  I couldn't get past it.

Meanwhile, I had joined a coaching group for physicians for weight loss.  I didn't know that she would be coaching us on everything.  At some point, I asked her if coaching could help with the flashbacks.  She said it could.  She walked me through the event, and let me feel and experience the grief and horror without forcing it away.  I won't tell you it was one and done.  I had to repeat the process for weeks.  But they got less, and less, and now are few and far between.  I thought they would be with me for the rest of my life.  What an amazing blessing that coaching was.

Now comes the next sad part.  You don't have to keep reading.  It's ok to stop.  

We had a puppy named Milton when we lost Hershey.  He was a German shorthair pointer, and was the best dog we have ever had.  He loved to go anywhere in the car.  He was smart, and obedient, and so well trained.  He was probably my husband's best friend.  One day, my son opened the back of the suburban to get his football bag.  He left the hatch open.  Someone, we aren't sure who, saw the open hatch, and closed it, not realizing Milton had jumped in and was sleeping on the floor inside.  Even though it was fall, it was really hot.  Indian summer.  Even though the day before had been cool and rainy.  No one knew he was in there.  He didn't survive the heat.  

I thank god every day that I found him, not one of the kids.  I opened the car door, saw him on the floor, and had to reach in to make sure he was gone, although I knew just from looking.  But I had to be sure.  When I touched him, and knew, I was able to keep my son from seeing him as he stood behind me, but not from him seeing me as I lost my mind for a bit.  I could not believe we were going through this again, and a part of me broke.  I couldn't stop screaming.  Part of me was outside of me, floating above, watching, and saying, "You have to stop.  You have to help the kids.  You have to stop ", but I couldn't find the button in my head to turn off the screaming.  

I spent the first night awake, reaching out again and again to touch him in my mind as my brain tried to make sense of this.  I cried and cried.  But I let it run through the cycle, knowing my brain needed to try to make sense of it.  We all took the next day off of school/work.  We processed it together.  I let my brain keep reaching out to touch him.  It was so tough to not force it away.  I wanted to, because the grief was raw and overwhelming.  But I knew, if I pushed it away, it would still be there for me - a week, a month, a year later.  But, after a week, my brain didn't have to keep reaching in and touching him.  I still cried most days, but I could sleep at night, and surprisingly, I slept well and without nightmares.  Within a month, I was not having any flashbacks (after it being very frequent for the first year and a half with Hershey).  It has been a little over a year since we lost him.  I still have to reach into the car sometimes, because my brain still wants to believe it isn't true.  I still miss him, every day.  I still cry sometimes.  I had to stop multiple times writing this to cry.  You might be saying "lady, it is just a dog".  You are right, but I will tell you HEARING that my 32 yo brother was found dead from a heart attack was nowhere near as traumatic as SEEING the whole thing with Hershey.  Losing my brother may have left a bigger hole in my life, but I didn't find him.  That trauma fell to my beautiful sister-in-law.  So, those who think I can't understand trauma and fear because I am not a cancer survivor, I can.  If you think I can't change the experience of your life, you are wrong - I changed my experience, and I can change yours as well.  Coaching works.  It can let us move past these things.  I am excited to help you take this journey too.