TBI Complication No. 763: Being defenseless against vampires

This one drives me crazy… especially now that I’m aware of it.

One of the things that my neuropsych eval has brought out, is that my processing speed is considerably slower than one would expect, given my other relatively high cognitive ability numbers.

Slowed mental processing speed — not being able to think things through quickly — is one of the Big Three most common after-effects of traumatic brain injury. And since I’ve had so many tbi’s over the years, it’s not surprising that this is an issue for me.

My difficulties in this area are particularly pronounced in social settings, and they include (but are not limited to):

• not being able to respond immediately to questions my partner asks (making them think that I’m ignoring them, when I’m just trying to catch up)
• having a hard time following what police officers are saying to me when they pull me over (and they do)
• having a tough time expressing myself to my doctor(s) and engaging in productive conversation with them
• not being able to figure out what people are trying to communicate to me and get from me (socially speaking) and keep them from taking advantage of me

The last one recently turned out to be a big issue for me, about a week ago. I know a person who has been through some really hard times, over the past couple of years. They were in an abusive relationship with an aggressive spouse who was very hard on them… so they left. They were homeless for a while, and as sometimes happens with homeless folks, they were preyed upon violently and really got roughed up. It’s a terrible story, and they’re pretty much of a wreck over it. They’ve been reaching out for help, but they haven’t been able to find the kind of assistance they need — if they even realize what kind of help they need, to begin with. And the people they reach out to, just aren’t qualified to help them with the level of trauma they’ve been through.

One of the complications is that this person is really caught up in their own drama, right now. Without taking away from the awful, terrible things that have happened to them, they seem to be invested in wallowing in a “poor me” kind of attitude. And they aren’t shy about taking up lots of time telling you all about it.

Now, I’ve been there myself, many times, so I know what it’s like — you’ve been through some shit and you want that to be recognized and respected by other people. If you’ve been ignored or further victimized by the legal system, that’s even more reason to feel sorry for yourself and tell your story to everyone who will listen, so you can get some support. Like I said, I’ve been there myself and have done it plenty of times. I know what it’s about… but in my experience, it doesn’t work very well.

Anyway, I ran into this person last weekend — no, they actually sought me out. They knew I was going to be at an event, and they basically hunted me down, driving hours out of their way to get to me. When they caught up with me, they buttonholed me and launched into an extended monologue about their past trauma and how they need this help and that help and this help and that help… my head was spinning and it was making me extremely agitated, just listening to them. It was bad enough that I couldn’t follow what they were saying exactly — their damage was showing and they weren’t very coherent — but what they were talking about was just horrifying.

Now, when people tell me stories or relate experiences, I tend to envision what they’re talking about and try to put myself in their shoes to see what they’re experiencing. Trust me, the last thing anyone would want to do is envision what this person was telling me, or “co-experience” their pain and trauma. By the end of our encounter, I felt utterly defiled. As though I had been dragged through the mud with them. I know I wasn’t, but the whole conversation — envisioning what they were talking about, seeing if I could sense their experience, so I would understand them — wasn’t good.

My brain totally failed me that night. I wasn’t processing quickly enough, and I couldn’t figure out how to defend myself. I couldn’t follow what they were saying without “experiencing” their story, so I opened myself up to sharing their trauma — on top of all the stuff I’ve got going on. I wanted to run and hide, but I was like a deer in headlights. I knew I should get away from them — run away! — but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. My brain wouldn’t kick in and come up with an excuse for me to step away… or even alert me, when they started talking at length about this terrible shit that’s gone down with them… I could sorta kinda see it coming, but I couldn’t think quickly enough to evade them or redirect the conversation.

And so I was trapped. Pinned down. Defenseless against the onslaught of this person who was “vomiting” all over me… at a total loss for words when they were all but asking me to come and stay at my house until they got their legal situation sorted out. It was all I could do, to keep silent, ‘cuz a part of me was starting to get amped up on their tale. That part of me that starts to “kick it” when things get dicey, was getting revved, but at least I had the sense to not invite them to come live with me (understand, their spouse is aggressive and crazy and lives in the same state as me, and the last thing I need is to have them showing up, screaming and banging on the door at 2 a.m. — been there, done that… not much fun).

Thinking back, I can definitely see how my slowed processing time and my irrational, inexplicable, purely physical need for stimulation sucked me into that conversation and got me stuck there. After all, I was tired… taxed… I’ve been going through some very confusing times around medical testing I’ve been having, and I’ve been increasingly depleted over the past weeks. My brain is foggy and my reactions are slowed. So, I’m more susceptible to getting sucked into drama, because the part of me that needs to function “normally” needs an adrenaline pump… a noradrenaline shot… an infusion of those stress hormones and a nice boost in blood glucose… to feel normal again. And what better way to get that — quickly and with almost no effort on my part — than to actively listen to (and vicariously participate in) the trauma-drama of a seriously damaged individual?

I’m not being facetious, here, in case you were wondering. I’m totally serious. At the start of our conversation, the numb fog I’d been in for days started to lift suddenly. At last, I could sense the world around me. This person was so edgy, very much like a wounded wild animal, just being near them felt dangerous — and my body responded with the usual dose of stimulants/opiates that kick-started my foggy head. And I actually felt awake, for the first ten minutes of our conversation.

But here’s the problem with this kind of engagement — as stimulating as it may be at the start, it eventually wears me out… particularly when I’m fatigued and foggy to begin with. And by the time the evening was over, this person who had latched onto me had sucked much of my energy — energy i needed for myself. I could feel myself starting to shut down and become numb to my surroundings, but I couldn’t stop myself. I could feel my attention becoming even more fuzzy than before, my reactions slowed, my ability to discern and judge diminished. And I ended up getting home way too late… which didn’t give me enough rest to see my neuropsych in the morning. When it came time for me to hear my test results, I became argumentative and difficult. I wasn’t able to modulate my reactions very well and I came across as disrespectful and defiant. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

I really need to take a lesson from this. In these personally challenging times, I need to be fully functional, and conversations like the one I had last weekend don’t help me do that. I need to protect myself from people who are indiscriminately roaming the landscape looking for energy to tap into… to suck out of people… without contributing anything in return.

Again, I don’t want to trivialize what this person is  going through. It’s awful, terrible, infuriating, and it highlights many of the weaknesses in our modern legal system. But I need to protect myself against people who — whether by choice or out of desperate, unarticulated need — are hell-bent on draining the lifeblood from me. I don’t have unlimited resources, and I’m in a pretty vulnerable place, myself, these days, so I can’t take on more stuff that others are carrying around with them. Especially if they are bound and determined to demand that you help them — when what they need most is not a shoulder to cry on, but some competent professional help and legal assistance.

I was/am in no position to help this person. But I got drawn into their trauma-drama, and I paid the price. I need to take a lesson from this and remember, I have to protect myself and keep my own life upright in the stormy seas I’m sailing, these days. Now, when I’m by myself (like right now), I’m really good at recognizing my boundaries. But I need to keep my own safety in mind when I’m out and about. Last weekend, when it came time to draw my own boundaries and protect myself, my slow processing speed just couldn’t keep me safe. And my irrational, physiological need for stimulation pushed me out onto a wire without much of a net underneath me.

And that sucks.