On Pushing Through the Post-Traumatic Stress

The past week’s events have really given me a great opportunity to examine my brain’s responses to intense stress, under somewhat “safe” conditions. Despite being relatively safe and with access to help and shelter and the company and assistance of friends, my TBI-addled brain is not functioning properly, and I’ve had a slew of post-traumatic responses that have not made my life easier.

I’ve pushed through the events… I’ve soldiered on, just putting one foot in front of the other… I’ve really tested myself, taking on more things that needed to be done, than was probably safe, at times.  I should have probably taken more frequent breaks during my work — both at home and at the office. I’ve really taxed my system, and now I see that it’s not been very productive. If anything, it’s really slowed me down and diminished my coping skills.

Now, some people I know tell me that my urge to push through is about avoiding dealing with my feelings. That I just don’t want to face my fears and anxieties about possible damage to the house, possible injury to myself, possible impacts to my job performance. Maybe that’s true. Maybe I haven’t wanted to face the fact that I’ve been scared half to death, on and off, for the past ten days.

But I really think there’s more to why I have been pushing through, than just avoiding my feelings. What I’ve noticed about myself is that when I’m under duress, when I’m dealing with a crisis, I sometimes actually feel better than when things are normal and uneventful. I feel more focused. I feel more clear. I feel alive. It’s not just that I’m high on an adrenaline rush — although at times I am. I actually think better, when I’m under a certain amount of pressure and the stakes are high.

I’ve always been this way. I’ve always been inclined to seek out risky situations and push the limits — taking up with questionable people, taking professional risks (like assuming more responsibility than I was up to at the time), pushing myself to continue, even when I’m exhausted and not doing well. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve continued to work or play or drive when I was almost too tired to stand. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pushed on, to get my second wind, and then kept working when I should have quit and gone home to sleep. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken risks with physical labor — going up a ladder when I was dizzy and lightheaded and not balancing well.

But contrary to what my psychotherapeutic friends may say, the times I’ve done that, were not necessarily times when I was hell-bent on self-injury. It wasn’t that I was trying to hurt myself or run from my feelings or avoid dealing with other aspects of my life. Those times actually made me feel better — they made me feel focused, alive, alert. They helped me STOP the constant onslaught of stimuli that tend to overwhelm me when I’m in a relaxed state. They helped me parse through my surroundings and relate to the world around me in a much more stable and calm way.

The times when I’ve been most tested, physically, have often been the times when I’ve been the most clear, mentally.

The only problem is, the times when I’ve really pushed myself, I’ve also hurt myself. Accidentally. Without realizing what was going on. I got into car accidents because I was overtired. I had bad collisions while playing sports that knocked me silly and made me get up slower and punchier than before. I also fell down the stairs in 2004 and hit my head hard on the top 3-4 stairs, because I was pushing myself too much. I was so busy doing and doing and doing and making progress, that I wasn’t paying attention and I slipped and fell.

And that was the beginning of the end of a lot of things I didn’t want to lose — like my job. Like my retirement savings. Like my ability to cope with things like extreme winter storms.

I really think that people need to stop treating the urge to push on through like it’s some kind of psychological disorder. I believe there’s a physiological aspect to it — some of us just function better under high stress, because we need that kind of environment to function at our best. Some of us actually think better, we act better, we understand better, when we’re “high” on adrenaline. Our brains need the biochemical cocktail of high pressure, in order to function at our peak level. It’s a physical need we have… a valid and justifiable need. It’s not that we’re emotionally or psychologically impaired, as some folks I know would say. We’re just built to function better with a certain amount of stress.

But those of us who have a need for stress, who exhibit risk-taking behavior, who are danger-seekers, also need to realize that this physical need can cloud our judgment. It can make us disregard the logical limits of our bodies and our brains. It can make us choose poorly. It can exhaust us without our realizing it. It can make us do and say and pursue things that we really should not. It’s not that we’re deficient. It’s not that we’re any less “manly” because we “can’t keep up.” It’s just that the very thing that feeds us, also can deplete us. And that without our knowing it. Especially if we’ve got a TBI in the mix that clouds our judgment to begin with.

Yes, those of us who thrive on stress do need to give ourselves permission to have the need to push through, but we also need to recognize our own limits. Get enough sleep — especially those of us with TBI after-effects — eat right. Keep tabs on where we’re at, and how we’re doing… And remember to check in with someone who doesn’t have cognitive/behavioral issues (if there are such people) — or, perhaps better said, check in with someone with a different/complementary set of cognitive/behavioral issues — to make sure we’re not getting off-track and we’re not endangering ourselves and our loved-ones with our deficits.

Push on, yes. But know when to say when.