"You never know how many lives you have touched, so you just know that it is much more than you think. Even the smallest acts of love, kindness and compassion can have a massive wave effect. You made the world a better place, even if it doesn't look like it. "~ Lori Deschene
I never had sleep problems until I got divorced. I also never had a nervous breakdown. Bankruptcy, the struggle for custody of my children and the loss of my business and apartment have definitely driven things over the edge.
To make matters worse, an undiminished, stress-related sleep deprivation can lead to functional disorders, depression and incredible self-loathing.
In other words, insomnia completely affects your mind.
It should have been helpful to have a psychiatrist in the family. At least he was meant well. And although it's not exactly the best way to prescribe it to a relative, I was literally frozen in my bed and my eyes wide open to spend too many nights in a row. Two small children had to be taken care of.
I lived in Las Vegas and was in dire need of help. He was in New York, near the rest of my family. He conceded out of love and pity.
We started the first nights with Ambien. Nothing. We tried Lunesta, which made me more awake. I'm pretty sure the move to Restoril made me fail.
According to rxlist.com, Restoril can cause “paranoid or suicidal beliefs and impair memory, judgment, and coordination. "
Restoril has not restored my sleep. I temporarily lost my mind.
Lying in bed, my eyes were wide open in panic. I was convinced that my children would be taken away to be raised by their father and girlfriend while I was being locked up in a random psychiatric ward and wearing a white hospital gown forever.
I would lose everything and be completely ashamed of myself and my family.
What went wrong?
I was born happy and relaxed; It never worried me much. I was an independent, confident child who had grown into a strong, grateful woman. I was a free-spirited artist who was always known to "look on the good side".
Now that I was waiting sleeplessly and often took my own life, it was extremely confused in mine. Fortunately, I have always come to the conclusion that I can never abandon my children or destroy my family.
Still, I was so traumatized that I could literally only move when absolutely necessary. My meditation pillow was next to my bed; I had just started this exercise and had no strong skills. I only knew that after sitting I could gather enough to take care of my sons.
I do not remember whether two or three weeks have passed, which I now refer to as a "psychotic break".
I remember my relative, the doctor, who said, "Elizabeth, I have given you enough tranquilizers and tranquilizers to kill an elephant and you are still not sleeping. There is a possibility that They are bipolar. It can start very quickly and is in our family. "
Bipolar? Me? Little Miss Sunshine ?? That was all I had to hear.
I started a company that designed clothes that undressed too quickly, so I had to spend some time in Los Angeles. Since my children were with their father two weeks a month, I rented a tiny studio in Topanga Canyon, a beautiful, peaceful hippie enclave between the valley and Malibu.
I knew my only hope for sanity was in this canyon, but my lease had expired and I had no money. My mother, who was worried about my health, gave me the rent for the past month.
I threw away the medication, got into my car (for better judgment) and drove the four hours from Vegas to Topanga. On the way I stopped at Whole Foods and bought at least three different natural sleeping pills with clear instructions on how to use them.
The first nights I threw, sweated and threw. My meditation pillow was the only place I could find relief, so I was sure that I could just sit back and forth for a few minutes if I could pull myself out of bed.
During the day I forced myself to take short walks because I knew that if I did things that were "normal" I would be one day.
After four days and nights of detoxification, I finally slept. Not firm and not completely through, but the spell was clearly broken. I took Valerian, a remedy called "Calms", and melatonin.
At the end of the week, my nightmare seemed to be over.
Months later I realized that I had a nervous breakdown. My nervous system was shot and I had tremendous effects for over a year.
After that, my meditation practice grew stronger every day. And while my sleep was improving, the rest of my life was still extremely challenged. My business failed badly. My former business partner sued me and mortgaged the house I bought with borrowed money. My ex-husband filed for bankruptcy, which fell on me.
Since I had no business, no income, and no way to sell my house because of the mortgage, I looked for huge debts and a mortgage that I couldn't pay. I had very little maintenance or child benefit. The relationship with my ex had become a battlefield littered with the torn pieces of our once happy life.
I had a choice: give up or give up.
I remember wondering how people got over the worst possible things when I found it so difficult to get through a divorce?
How could a mother survive if she lost a child?
I decided to find out this answer and share it with others.
I knew I could write, but needed help with marketing. An ad on Craigslist led me to Angela Daffron, who ran a small marketing company. She was a stalking victim who campaigned for other victims.
Angela's story was devastating and she was clearly able to help others. But I had to understand the surviving pain on an even deeper level.
I tracked down Candace Lightner, whose fourteen-year-old daughter Cari was killed by a drunk driver with four criminal records. Candace had led a crusade against drunk driving and founded MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving). It is estimated that MADD has saved nearly 600,000 lives today.
More recently, Candace founded "We Save Lives", another non-profit organization that has set itself the task of ending driving with drugs.
I had to know how Candace got out of bed the day after Cari's death.
I found her email online and held out my hand. Candace was incredibly generous with her time – this conversation was the first of many that developed into a deep, lifelong friendship.
It was Candace's life's job to get others to safety on the highway, and she didn't let anything get in her way. Cari's life had to serve a purpose; As a result, Candace discovered a way through her pain.
I continued to interview women who had gone through hell and back so that I could learn. So I was able to share. So I was able to relax. A pattern was created:
Mary Griffith's son Bobby was gay and Mary could not accept him. Bobby killed himself when he jumped over into traffic.
Mary became one of the greatest LGBT lawyers of her time.
Eva Eger was forced to dance for the famous SS leader Joseph Mengele in Auschwitz. She survived the Holocaust, but lost her entire family.
Eva became a psychotherapist.
Deanne Breedlov's son Ben died of heart disease at the age of eighteen. Before he died, Ben made a video that shared a near-death experience with all the peace, love, beauty, and angels he experienced.
Ben died on Christmas Day 2011. The next morning his video had gone viral worldwide.
Deanne dedicated her days to volunteering at Dell Children's’s Hospital, where Ben had spent so much of his life. It offers love and support to parents with sick and dying children.
My learning continued. Writing stories of loss, rape, and homelessness with everything in between made it clear that compassion was the key to overcoming difficulties.
And it wasn't necessary to write a book, change laws, or start a nonprofit organization. Compassion can mean showing yourself to someone in some small way … even if that "someone" was you.
I became more compassionate. I meditated, spent more time in nature and looked after my body better. I paid more attention to my roles as a daughter, sister, friend and mother. I learned to pause and make sure I was there when someone needed me.
Especially with my children I became a much better listener.
I was also cheered on to share what I had learned with others.
With all these changes, my outside world had not yet caught up with my inside. My mind was stronger, but I was still struggling financially and emotionally. I still couldn't reconcile the chaos I had created in my life.
I had the bad habit of constantly beating myself up for my mistakes and spending sleepless nights looking back at life for all the things that I had kept messing up over and over again.
I also did not know that the unconscious cannot differentiate between the past and the present. Somewhere deep in my psyche, I believed that sleep disorders meant that I would leave the deep end again.
The fear of sleep got worse than the insomnia itself.
I went to a sleep specialist to make sure nothing was physically wrong. My internist prescribed medication when insomnia was very severe. I found a hypnotherapist who helped me train my subconscious. When I woke up at night, I meditated to calm my body.
This time the sleep deprivation didn't finish me.
I was directed to a website called WIFE.org, which stands for the Women's Institute for Financial Education. WIFE was the longest running nonprofit in the country dedicated to women's financial literacy. On the website I saw that I could order a bumper sticker that said "A man is not a financial plan" for $ 1.
At that moment I understood that if I could personally help women through their divorce, I would survive.
Two days later I landed on the front door of co-founder Candace Bahr. She and her partner, Ginita Wall, were two of the country's greatest advocates who helped women financially read and write. They also had a workshop called "Second Saturday: What Every Woman Must Know About Divorce" for nearly twenty-five years.
The second Saturday offered women free legal, financial, and emotional advice at every stage of their divorce, starting with thinking.
I let Candace and Ginita know that I would stand up for them, volunteer and work for them. I told them they would "never get rid of me". Within a year, I raised enough money to help them trigger the second Saturday on a national level.
Three years later we had changed from two locations to over one hundred and twenty.
Every other Saturday I exposed my soul and told groups of women my terrible story in the most vulnerable way I could. Like me, they were afraid. I wanted them to know that they are not alone and will survive.
I also wanted to let her know that her life would develop remarkably.
When I shared my darkest moments, I helped them get through theirs. My true healing began from this room.
When I helped others, I forgot my own pain. And when I saw how my story helped others, my journey of forgiveness began, starting with myself.
With all the new awareness and an amazing, supportive community, my struggles had less and less impact. I continued to work with Candace and Ginita and slowly but surely my external life started to change. I made art to calm my soul and created a program to share art with other women.
My children were the real center of my world and I used every moment I had with them. I became more and more grateful for every part of my life, including – and especially – the struggles.
Had I not divorced terribly, I would never have met Candace Lightner, Mary Griffith, Eva Eger, Deanne Breedlove, Candace and Ginita and so many other remarkable people.
I would never have helped thousands of women survive their own struggles.
I would never have understood that we were all born with infinite gifts that we should share with others.
Insomnia had led to compassion and resolution.
At some point I fell in love and remarried. This time with a man who supported every part of my being, including the soul of my artist. My goal is to help others who have become our common goal: to share the healing effects of art.
We founded The Spread Your Wings Project, a nonprofit that aims to provide an uplifting response to the tragedies our nation is facing today. We are blessed to make massive pairs of angel wings with children.
We are humble and grateful that we have worked with Dell Children's Hospital and the city of Las Vegas to honor lives that died on October 1st, 2017.
It is an incredible honor for us today to work with Dylan's Wings of Change, a foundation that emerged from the Sandy Hook shoot. Ian Hockley lost his beautiful six-year-old Dylan on that tragic day. In Dylan's honor, he founded DWC and Wingman, a curriculum that teaches compassion, empathy, and inclusion to children.
What could be more important than that?
We start "Spread Your Wings with Wingman", where we build massive angel wings with schoolchildren across the country.
What an incredible gift for someone who thought their lives were worthless!
Two weeks ago I had a few hard nights. Instead of turning the madness down, my older, wiser self took over. I took my sleep fighting as a sign to practice more self-love.
I slowed down. I listened to the trees. I have created more boundaries with people and technology. I counted my blessings that everyone I love is healthy and healthy, at least right now. I sent more prayers and gratitude to the amazing people who helped me rewrite mine through their stories.
I prepared for "Spread your Wings with Wingman" and remembered everything I learned starting with:
Compassion – starting with self-compassion – is the key to a good night's sleep.
About Elizabeth Bryan-Jacobs
Elizabeth Bryan-Jacobs is an artist and bestselling author of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Count Your Blessings and Soul Models: Transformative Stories of Courage and Compassion. She founded "Creative Awakenings", a program for transformative creativity that she teaches nationally. She and her husband, artist Bobby Jacobs, founded The Spread Your Wings Project, a 501 (c) 3, to share the profound benefits of art and art therapy. For more information, visit www.elizabethbryanjacobs.com and www.thespreadyourwingsproject.org.
Do you see a typo, inaccuracy or something offensive? Please contact us so we can fix the problem!
