Drink water, eat regularly, get exercise, rest

Soon...
Yes.

My sleeping has normalized, at last. After 3 days of vacation, I finally got to bed by 10:30, and I slept till 7:00. That’s progress.

I’ve been getting good exercise, getting out in the mornings to walk the beach or roam around town, and I’ve been able to nap… and relax.

Nice.

It’s really important for me to keep on a schedule. If I’m not, I can get tired. When I get tired, I get cranky. I’ve had to catch myself a number of times, yesterday, to keep from getting “snappy” with my spouse. I hate when I get short-tempered… especially when my spouse needs my help. I seem to get more short-tempered more quickly when they really need my help. That’s the worst time of all. I want to be patient and helpful, but my patience runs out when they are most in need.

That’s something I’m working on. It’s come up drastically in the past, and it weighs on me with the guilt. It was worse when I was first dealing with my TBI stuff and wasn’t getting any help, yet. My spouse had fallen and hurt their back, and I was so angry and confused and turned around, that I just walked up to them, yelled at them, and walked away in a rage. I couldn’t figure out how to handle the situation, and I left them lying by the road in pain.

I’m not proud of that. But I know now it was the TBI that made me do that. I would never do that myself by choice. And I think of that situation often, when they are truly in need of help with something, and I am feeling short with them. I don’t want to be like that ever again. The injury they sustained that day has worsened over time, and now they are nearly disabled by it at times.

I sometimes blame myself for that — especially because I didn’t help them in the following days and weeks and months… as their injury worsened and their back ache spread down their legs to their knees and the whole way to their ankles, but I couldn’t figure out what to do about it — and neither could they.

At least I got some help, when I did. If I had never gotten help, things would be even worse now, I’m sure. But it’s hard to face my own role in making this situation what it is. Fortunately, my spouse is getting physical therapy, but it’s been years since they could walk and move without pain.

Of course, they’re responsible, too, for much that happens in their life. They make unhealthy choices and resist common sense, so it’s not all on me. Still and all, I do feel a responsibility for this situation. And it’s incumbent upon me to manage myself properly, so I don’t pose a risk to them anymore.

I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.

This vacation is about us being here together. Being a couple again. Being partners again. This is the first vacation we’ve had all to ourselves in a long time — for the past several years, they’ve always wanted friends to join us. But this year, no one can come, so it’s just us. And that’s fine with me. It’s easier for me to take – and it’s more of a vacation for me.

Drink water, eat regularly, get exercise, rest… and reset.

It’s important.

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Chyna’s brain to be examined by ‘Concussion’ doctor after accidental overdose, manager says – LA Times

What a drug promises is not always what it delivers
What a drug promises is not always what it delivers

This is both sad and cautionary.

Chyna’s manager said he knows how the wrestling star died last week.

Chyna, whose real name was Joan Marie Laurer, died of a combination of the sleeping pill Ambien and a form of the tranquilizer Valium, her manager, Anthony Anzaldo, said Wednesday.

Chyna had been taking the legally prescribed pills over the course of three weeks, but wasn’t using them properly, he said. Her death was the result of an accidental overdose, Anzaldo insisted, not suicide.

Source: Chyna’s brain to be examined by ‘Concussion’ doctor after accidental overdose, manager says – LA Times

I am really looking forward to finding out what Dr. Omalu discovers, and if it has anything to do with Chyna’s brain function. My new neuro prescribed Ambien to me, six weeks ago, but at the recommendation of my former neuropsych (it was one of the last things they told me, before they departed), I have not taken it. Frankly, I’d rather acquire the skill of getting enough rest, than take my chances with Ambien.

The neuro was not pleased and kind of rolled their eyes in disbelief that they said so. however, I trust my old neuropsych more than this new neuro — they’ve been “in the business” for a heck of a lot longer, and they know their neuropharmacology a heck of a lot better than the neuro (who didn’t even read their neuropharmacology recommendations, at first).

Looking around, I found this at Sports Concussion and the Clinical Neurologist, Part III, which looks like a good read. It didn’t take long for me to find a mention of Ambien (underline emphasis is mine):

Sleep is best treated with natural, over the counter remedies to prevent dependency and rebound insomnia. Compounds such as diphenhydramine (25 to 50mg), valerian root and melatonin (3-12mg) can be used alone or in combination. Diphen-hydramine is also effective in aborting migraine and other headaches and can also be used as a short-term headache preventative. Melatonin acts to maintain sleep. If medication is required, then TCAs would be considered first line due to their ability to treat associated symptoms. Trazodone, which is chemically similar to TCAs, is another alternative. Sedative hypnotics such as zolpidem (Ambien) and eszopiclone (Lunesta), which can cause rebound insomnia and worsen post concussion symptoms of headache, cognitive symptoms, or dizziness, should be avoided as should benzodiazepines and barbiturates.

So, yeah, WTF, neuro? The last thing I need is rebound insomnia, and worsened post-concussive symptoms. I’m trying to get rid of the headache, cognitive symptoms, and dizziness — specifically — so, why would you prescribe them for me?

And what about all the other folks out there like me, who have been prescribed these things and are possibly having side-effects?

It truly is maddening.

Once upon a time, Chyna was taking Ambien and a type of Valium, and the two interacted all wrong. Maybe there were other factors at work, but the simple fact is, if she did have a history of head trauma, then she was taking at least one drug that she should have stayed away from. And her doctor should have known that. If insomnia — and rebound insomnia — worsen cognitive symptoms, and IF she was having trouble sleeping (which is a safe bet), it would have been harder for her to make good decisions about what to do. And that’s never helpful. Especially if you’ve got a history of brain injury that already makes things difficult and puts more “stuff” on your plate.

I’m sure Chyna never intended to wind up dead, but that’s what happened. And sadly, given the circumstances, I wish I could say I’m more surprised.

R.I.P. Chyna. You were a warrior, for sure.

The things no one tells you about brain injuries

Good reading: http://personalhealthcareplans.info/the-things-no-one-tells-you-about-brain-injuries/

It was tough seeing Alex, my shadow for so many years, going it alone and winning a place at university ahead of me. School staff showed great patience and understanding, and I was gradually re-acclimatised to the world of academia.

I stumbled plenty of times, took far too long agonising over essays and worried constantly about what fellow pupils thought of me, but I persevered and Hull University offered me a place, to study geography, while promising to support me in my quest to make sense of my new life.

I over-analyse, suffer from paranoia and bouts of depression, as doctors warned I would, but I do my best to put on a brave face and smile. And I’m afraid I’m rather obsessive. I used to be Bart Simpson, but now the Queen could visit my bedroom it’s so neat and tidy while my clothes have to be washed to death and hung in a certain order in my wardrobe.

What really gets to me, this time of year

And that's what I have to say about that - to some folks
And that’s what I have to say about that – to some folks, anyway.

I had an epiphany yesterday while shopping for supper. My trip to the grocery store was irritating and tiresome. Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be something or someone in my way. From the drivers on the road, to the people in the supermarket, it was like a maze getting around.

This time of year is crazy, and if I’d had better judgment, I wouldn’t have been out, period.  But I was still sick, still not thinking clearly, and anyway, I was on a mission to pick up my lumber supplies to fix my stairs, and I just needed to get up and out of my head, anyway, so what the hell?

Anyway, despite being foggy and disoriented, I managed to find the cut of lamb I was looking for. {Whenever my spouse is away, I make myself a dinner of lamb — cooked in olive oil in a pan with onions, mushrooms, yams, and green beans – and salt to taste. That’s my treat, since I love lamb, and my spouse hates it.} It took me several tries of walking up and down the meat displays, before I finally found the lamb — but now I know where it is for next time. And I found a yam that would work perfectly for just one person.

I forgot other things I needed to get, but after 10 minutes inside, I just wanted to get out.

The trip to the store felt like an onslaught — too much light, too much sound, too much Christmas. Everybody being herded (speaking of lamb) towards additional purchases… even as my bank alerts me with a text that my account is below the level it should be.  All the people milling around… it actually wasn’t as bad as it could be, but for me on that day, with my senses going nuts and this sinus infection messing with my thinking and reaction time, all I wanted was to get out of there.

I finally did make my way to the front cash register, feeling and acting genuinely impaired. I was clumsy and pretty much non-verbal, and the cashier had to remind me what to do with the keypad, which I was poking at like an idiot. I paid for my $5.87 meal, and headed for my car, steering a wide circle around the Salvation Army alms-gatherer, who kept trying to get my attention. I don’t support the Salvation Army, because it’s a well-disguised religious and political organization (some call it a “sect”) that doesn’t tell everyone what they really support. I can’t agree with many points of their agenda, and I certainly don’t agree with them hiding it from people who have a handful of change to drop in the bucket. It really irritates me that the general public (who may not know what they’re all about and may not agree at all with what they promote) is every so sweetly pressured into donating to them by kind-looking people with bells.

I was in a pretty sour / disaffected mood, by the time I was done. And I headed to my car feeling slightly guilty about being so “bah humbug” at this time of year. I really wanted to get into the spirit of things, but I was just so underwhelmed with everything around me, so put off by the onslaught, so tweaked by… seemingly everything. At least I’d parked away from most of the cars, I figured. I was in no shape to be navigating between closely positioned vehicles in the state I was in.

I had just finished putting my food in the back of my car, when another driver zoomed past me into the empty space beside my car. They couldn’t have passed more than 6 inches away from me, and if I’d been feeling better, I would have been alarmed.

But I had  no energy for that. It was just one more irritation to grab my limited attention, so I just dismissed and shrugged it off and got in my car. The other driver put their car in park, and just for the hell of it, I looked over at them with a smile. I was feeling so contrary, I wanted to be pleasant, even in the face of the near miss and my total irritation with everything that had happened that day.

The other driver looked over at me sheepishly, then smiled back. A moment later, they looked over at me again with another quizzical smile, and I smiled in return. Then they got out and walked around their car to mine, and I rolled down the window. I figured they wanted to apologize, maybe, for nearly creaming me, and I was in a defiantly generous mood, so I was about to let that be what the exchange was all about. With so much bullshit going on in the world, these days, the most radical, contrary thing I could do, was be kindhearted and generous to someone who’d nearly taken my legs off.

There really wasn’t any need for an apology, and the other driver sensed it, somehow. They said, “Oh my God – how is it the supermarket?”

I said it was actually fine, that I got in and out in no time. I didn’t even mention the close call. Why waste my time?

They said they thought for sure it would be crazy inside, what with all the cars, but maybe it was everyone shopping in other stores.

I said I thought that was probably the case — that if you knew what you were looking for in the grocery store, you’d be able to get in and out. It really wasn’t any more busy than it is on a weekday night.

We shot the breeze for a few more minutes, then we went our separate ways. And both of us felt that much better. Because we’d actually had a real conversation between two real people — not the kind of superficial, crazy-busy rush and push of the holiday shopping experience. For a few minutes, we’d been able to be real human beings with each other, sharing an experience that both of us couldn’t friggin’ stand, that made us into people other than our best selves. And for those few minutes — all made possible by a near miss — we got a much-needed break from all the B.S. of this season.

And as they disappeared into the crowd, and I pulled away to go home, I realized that my malcontent and frustration and disaffection has nothing to do with Christmas, itself. It has nothing to do with the season or the time of year or the shortening of days or anything like that. It’s not because I’m in a BAD MOOD, or that I feel “bah humbug” about everything. It’s not because I’m sick, or I don’t have enough money, or I hate life or my job or politics or anything else.

It’s because at this time of year, especially, I really want to have some real contact with real people, and just put aside all the busy-ness. I want to be able to have a real conversation with another human being about something that is real and genuine. I get upset and disaffected and grumpy about the bullshit. All the commercial crap, all the bogus posturing, all the appeals for financial help at the end of the year. All the nagging and pleading and posing… it just makes me insane. It’s a waste of my time, and I resent the very existence of it.

So, it’s NOT that I’m not in the Christmas spirit. I actually am — very much so. The thing is, I’m in a real Christmas spirit, and I have no patience for people who aren’t willing to be real, and businesses and causes that make themselves out to be something that they’re not. I resent feeling like people are constantly trying to trick me, and I detest all the spin that goes on in the news. I get sick of being lied to, especially at this time of year, and I resent being forced to work harder at my life, because retailers can’t seem to offer anything of sufficient value during the rest of the year, to make their businesses solvent. I’m sick of the deceptive cycles of holiday debt, followed by months of struggle underneath the added burden. And I’m sick of a system that makes it all possible — even mandatory.

I just want my freedom. But apparently, that’s too much to ask. And the sight of the plight of so many people who are trusting others to point them in the right direction, just weighs down my heart.

So my lack of Christmas cheer is actually not a bad thing. It’s a sign that I’m alive and kicking, and I have precious little wish to live less than a fully true life. I have no patience for spin and obfuscation and masking agendas to sign on adherents, and I have no wish to perpetuate it.

If someone wants to engage me in a real conversation about real things, and be genuine and human with me, I’m all for it.

But if you’re just dishing up more steaming B.S. on a silver platter, you’d best keep your distance. To you, I say, “Bah humbug!”

After the Hit – Age 4, Possible Fall Off a Chair

big-chairThis is an injury I cannot 100% confirm, but much about what I recall fits the description of what happens to a kid before, during, and after a concussion from a fall.

I was placed in a daytime childcare setting with another one of my siblings, when I was about 4 years old. Both my parents were working to make ends meet, so I was in childcare till I entered kindergarten.

This fall happened in a house that was filled with kids. The big kids went up stairs, and the little ones stayed downstairs where the caretaker could keep an eye on us. I always wanted to be upstairs with the big kids, but I knew I wasn’t allowed up. One day, one of the “big kids” encouraged me to come upstairs and join the fun. I was a small kid for my age, but I had a big heart, and I wanted to be part of the fun. So, I snuck upstairs with the other kid, and I got to play.

The game that day was climbing onto chairs and jumping, as though we could fly. I had always been a climber (I climbed onto the top of our refrigerator when I was 2, and I downed a whole bottle of tasty orange-flavored baby aspirin). So this came naturally to me. Along with the other kids, I climbed up as high as I could go, and I jumped. One time, I landed wrong – maybe my head hit something? And the next thing I knew, one of the big kids was running downstairs calling for our caretaker that I needed help.

I remember a lot of confusion and yelling. I wasn’t supposed to be up there. I dimly remember getting a concerned talking-to, but most of the yelling was at the other kids for inviting me up there. My mother was called, and she came to pick up my sibling and me. There was worried, hushed adult back-and-forth talk, with a lot of apologies from my caretaker. Then I was taken home.

After that, I was determined to go back upstairs and join the big kids again. I couldn’t get it out of my head. My caretaker had to keep an eye on me, or I’d be back upstairs. Nothing they said to me would stop me from wanting that. I wanted to climb. I wanted to jump. I wanted to fly. If it’s possible for a young kid to perseverate (get stuck on one idea and not be able to let it go), I fit the bill. In addition, I was subject to crying fits, where I could not let it go. I just could not. I would cry and cry and cry inconsolably. Nothing could stop me. I would just cry.

This happened at the caregiver’s place where I’d fallen. And it happened in other places and times when I was tired and overwhelmed, too. Once, my mother had to pick me up from childcare and take me home, because I was impossible to calm down and I was being too disruptive.

I didn’t want to be in that house, filled with all those rowdy kids, all that noise, and all that activity. But if I had to be there, I wanted to be upstairs with the big kids — jumping off chairs and getting as close to flying that a 4-year-old can imagine.

To medicate or not to medicate

Choices, choices

I’m doing my leg lifts a little differently this morning. I’m going slowly, and I’m not holding onto something for balance, unless I need it. I’ve been having balance problems, lately. Or rather, my usual balance problems have been more of a problem, lately. I’ve almost fallen a number of times in the past few months — while standing up from a table and having to catch myself before I hit my head on the table and/or a nearby chair and bookcase… while starting to walk down a flight of stairs… even while just standing.

So, after talking to the neurologist and my neuropsych and making an effort to notice when I’m dangerously off balance, I’ve realized this is actually an issue. And I need to get it checked out.

So, I’m going to get some autonomic system testing done. I know that it’s been an issue with me, lo these many years, and I need to collect some actual data about it, rather than relying solely on my own observation — which tends to be spotty, because of my Swiss-cheesey memory. If I don’t write things down, it’s like they never happened. And I can’t always take the time to write everything down.

It would just start to get a bit hypergraphic, methinks.

Anyway, over the weekend, I also took some Sumatripan (generic Imitrex), which did knock out the migraine I felt coming on. But it also left me feeling drugged and dopey. I felt “off” all weekend, like I had chemicals in my system. It wasn’t like I was looking for that. I will take meds when I have to. The thing was, I was definitely feeling “synthetic” for a few days. Monday I started to feel better, but Sunday it was like I was in a druggy fog.

I can’t remember if I took the migraine meds before or after I had my dizzy spell, but as it turns out, dizziness is one of the reported side-effects of Sumatriptan. And when I looked at the list of side-effects with my neuropsych yesterday, it turns out that it’s probably not a great idea for me to be taking it, due to possible effects on my autonomic system.

See, here’s the big issue I have with meds: They are dispensed from on high, and unless I have access to someone with an advanced database of indications and contraindications, as well as sensitivity to my situation and an understanding of how things might affect me, I’m pretty much a guinea pig for finding out what’s going to happen with me. And doctors (in my experience) routinely prescribe things that they don’t fully understand. They figure they’ll have me try it out and see — essentially turning me into a science experiment.

I’m extremely sensitive to medications, but nobody seems to take that seriously. Meds disrupt my attention and concentration with the feeling they often give me. Unless I am completely laid out by illness, such as bronchitis or some other major infection that I can’t fight off on my own, the cure can be worse than the illness it’s supposed to fix.

I need to figure things out up front as much as possible, not just find something that’s worked for other people, give it a whirl, and then have my life disrupted by exciting discoveries.

Not when I can take another route to dealing with things.

So, as for the autonomic testing, both the neuro and the neuropsych are thinking I could take a pill to deal with the situation. Please. Another medication? If there is any way on God’s good earth that I can find another way to strengthen the underlying structure of my system, and build myself up that way, I’ll do that. I mean, seriously. Say I do go on a med for my balance. Is that going to help me strengthen my body to maintain balance better? People often have falls — especially later in life — because their systems are weakened, they don’t have the muscular control to catch themselves, and their reactions are slowed. If I use a pill to fix my issues, then where is the incentive to strengthen the underlying “framework” that keeps me upright?

The direction I want to take with the autonomic testing is NOT pharmaceutical. It’s structural. I don’t want additional chemicals coursing through my veins, when I can offset the issues I have with strength and balance exercises, eating right, and getting adequate rest. I need to approach this systemically, not have an intervention which may actually weaken me.

It’s pretty irritating for my neuropsych and my neuro to be so pill-happy. I’ve been on this rehab quest for about 7 years now, and my neuropsych says they’ve never seen a recovery like mine. Okay, out of all their other patients, how many of them are on medication?  I’m not. I refuse to be — especially for things that I can address and strengthen myself — or compensate for (by strengthening other aspects of my neurology).

It’s frustrating and alienating for them to be so eager to prescribe meds. Maybe they just want a quick way to relieve suffering. That impulse is noble, but the pharma aspect of it doesn’t sit well with me.

Anyway, we’ll see. I know where I stand, and I can’t let them bring me down.

Did the math. Yes, we can afford another car

Math is not my strong suit, but this situation looks pretty good.

The numbers are in, and it’s looking pretty good. So far. Based on all the work I’ve done over the past year or so, I can actually afford to buy a decent used car outright. I found one yesterday that looks promising. Granted, it’s not top of the line, but it’s looking solid, and I’ll be going to look at it later today. Here’s hoping it will check out okay, so I can just buy it and get on with my life.

I’m also hoping the salesman I talked to yesterday can cut me a break on the price, if I write him a check. It will save us all time and money, instead of dragging us through all the paperwork and hassle of financing. It works out for him in a way – maybe he’ll sweeten the price a bit for the equivalent of cash.

Heck, I could even give him cash, if he liked. Run to the bank. Get some large bills. Hand him a sack full of Franklins.

That could work.

If I buy the car outright, then I won’t have to carry comprehensive coverage for it — I can get what I need, without insuring it for the financing company’s sake. What they don’t tell you about financing and leasing new cars, is that you have to carry pretty robust coverage for the vehicle, until it’s paid for. Then you can adjust the coverage you have and save yourself some money.

By paying for the car in full, it saves us from a monthly payment, which is good. It’s also nice to own the car outright — which is why I don’t think I’ll ever buy a new car — unless I’m independently wealthy. Heck, even then I don’t think I could justify it. I don’t need a new car smell. I just need reliable wheels to get me to and from.

So, there goes my safety net — my three months of living expenses. On the one hand, it might make more sense to finance just a little bit of the car, so we still have a bit of a safety net. On the other hand, it will be nice to not have to hassle with yet more complexity.

Then again, I expect to be getting a tax refund, and the insurance company will be cutting me a check for the totaled vehicle (not sure how much that will be yet, but I’m hoping it’s more than a fistfull of dollars). So, there will be more money coming in. And I’m working a lot of hours, which means overtime. Time and a half is pretty sweet.

Well, anyway, it’s time to get ready for work. Get myself in gear. Go out and take care of business. And be done with this crap, so I can get back to my regular life.

Amen.

Onward.

Calling the insurance company

Not looking forward to this. I am very tired, and my speech is slurred, my face is numb and twitching, I’ve been sleeping on my arms wrong, and the fingers on both hands are stiff with pins and needles, and I’m having difficulty putting ideas together coherently.

I’ll give it a try and go ahead and make the call. I tend to get better, once I get warmed up, anyway. I’ve got my notebook where I’ll keep my notes and keep everything organized. I have some slips of paper I wrote notes on, and I’ll transfer them to my notebook, so I keep organized. I’m really out of it and disoriented. Things always get worse in the days after. When you’re in the thick of things, everything is a blur. Later, when things calm down, is when the extended problems start.

Fortunately, I got some great tips from someone I met yesterday who told me to go to www.nada.com and get the “Clean Retail” value of my car, then call the insurance company and definitely do not settle for their offer, if they total the vehicle. They told me about different tricks the insurance company tries, like telling me they’ll pick up the vehicle and taking it to their lot, and then just sitting on it, while I wait for my settlement. I also need to find out if I have rental coverage.

I’m not sure how this will turn out. I don’t know if the car is worth saving, or if we should just get a new(er) one. I really don’t know. I don’t have enough information yet.

The airbags went off, so apparently insurance companies tend to total vehicles when that happened. Also, when I went to the tow yard and cleaned it out, there were pieces of interior that were twisted and bent, that shouldn’t have been, so that looks to me like frame damage. If you hit the front of your vehicle, and one side of the back bumper is pushed out and back, I’m guessing there’s more going on than front-end damage.

Anyway, I have a huge day ahead of me. I have some critical meetings happening, and I also need to make some important calls. It’s not a small thing, this day, and I’m not really feeling up to it. But I’ll do it anyway, as best I can.

Off I go, to talk to the insurance folks.

The worst thing about trauma

It hits at all levels

Just a tip — if you have a weak stomach, don’t Google “trauma” and look at the images. I just did, and I regret it.

Anyway… I’m writing this ahead of time and scheduling it to publish while I’m way. By the time you’re reading this, I’ll probably be on the road, off to collect the rest of the crap from the smashed vehicle my spouse was in. Again, I am so grateful things didn’t turn out worse.

Still, it’s a sh*tty way to spend my day off. Especially when I was in such need of downtime, having been really sick all last week.

So much for that.

To be quite honest, the hardest part about the whole thing was that everyone had to emotionally process everything. They had to call their friends, talk to everybody they met about it, recount the experience, get sympathy from people, have an “emotional release”… and do it all over again. And all the while, the friend’s smartphone kept going off and dinging with every text that would come in, setting off the most irritating set of ringtones I’ve ever heard, and not giving me a moment’s rest. Driving a long distance on very little sleep, having that smartphone go off every 15 seconds was nerve-wracking, to say the least. It was startling and jarring, and no sooner would they settle down from one emotional conversation with someone, than someone else would call them, and they’d launch into their hysterics all over again.

Oh. My. God.

I am so tired. I went to bed when I got home last night — about 6 p.m. And I slept till 4:30 this morning. It felt great to get 10-1/2 hours of sleep, and I have a massage later today, which will be fantastic. I also need to drive back out to the tow yard, halfway across the state, to pick up the rest of the equipment in the trashed vehicle, so it’s not a total loss. I just need to work today, to move and go about my business, work around the house, call the insurance company, and take action, without constant processing going on.

Please. I need a break.

Now, I know that I do a lot of talking, myself. And I have to consider my own approach to talking things through and processing everything. I like to think that I process and move on. That I speak my peace and then make necessary changes to ensure those things don’t happen out of my negligence or stupidity or lack of preparation. It’s one thing to go through difficult times. It’s another, to never shut up about it, and “get stuck” in the whole experience, because you want others to feel sorry for you.

If I ever sound like the friend who kept replaying that experience… somebody tell me to shut the hell up. I am truly sorry, if I ever put any of you through that.

Truly, I am.

The crux of it for me, really, is that when we experience trauma, our bodies are put into shock, and on a physical level, we get primed for startle and hyper-alertness. Our bodies are trying to protect us, and they think they have to keep being alert. But they don’t. Our minds pick up on our body’s hyper-alert state, and they get tricked into thinking that they need to be hyper-alert, too… rehashing the experience, so they can “learn” what the situation looked like, to avoid it in the future.

The thing is, for some situations — like a punk in a fast car being an asshole — you cannot predict and anticipate it, so all the “learning” you are doing is just sucking up your energy that could be spent on healing from the whole hellish experience. And rather than making you safer, you’re re-traumatizing yourself and making everything that much worse.

That’s my argument with people who insist on telling everyone about their awful childhood experiences with abusive parents/uncles/siblings/caretakers, etc. It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t solve anything, it just keeps spreading the trauma around to everyone who had nothing to do with it, and who don’t deserve to be sucked into what was a truly horrific experience.

Trauma needs to be handled in other ways, not talking. It’s a physiological experience, and it needs to be dealt with on the physical level. The body takes over the mind — hijacks your executive functioning — and you have to get it all to settle down, before things in your mind can calm down.

That means resting and eating right and moving. You cannot heal without some sort of movement. You just can’t. You’ve got to get out of your head and get your ass up out of the chair/bed, and really move it. Because if you don’t, your body is going have a backlog of stress chemicals that convince it that it needs to be on HIGH ALERT, and you will keep reliving your shitty experience as though it were still true.

Okay, enough of my rant. It’s time for me to do something constructive with this energy. Time to move.

Time to go juggle. And get on with my day.

Onward.

 

So much for my weekend off

Where’s my damn’ car?

Well, it was a nice thought. I had three days to work on my projects and pretty much unwind, catch up with myself, and sleep… get healthy, etc.

That was the plan, anyway.

Then my spouse got into a really bad car accident on Saturday afternoon, and I had to drive out to a country hospital to meet them and the business associate they were traveling with. The hospital was really old-fashioned – like something out of the 1950s, and the ER physician was about as dynamic as a brick. I’m not sure that he did a thorough job checking out my spouse, who hit their head on the door frame. They said they just had a bump on their head, and they didn’t have a headache. My spouse kept trying to charm the doctor, while he was doing the examination, which can’t have made his job any easier. I didn’t know what to do, other than keep them from lying to the doctor outright. They’re terrified of doctors, and they were completely freaked out by the whole experience. So, there was only so much I could actually do.

My spouse and their friend had their doubts about driving — road conditions were not good, and visibility was poor. But they had committed to the trip, and their destination had good weather, so they thought it would be fine, once they got out there. None of us factored in the weather between our home and their destination. Ultimately, thought,the real problem was no so much the road conditions — rather, the poor judgment and behavior of the person who caused the wreck.

They were not hurt badly, but they had to go to the hospital to be evaluated, and then because of their states of mind and body, they couldn’t get back in a car and drive home. So, we spent Sunday hanging out at a chilly little country motel, wrapped in coats and blankets, trying to stay warm, eating Sunday brunch, finding the tow yard where the car was, collecting their personal items, trying to fit them all into my little hatchback (with three people in it), and getting everyone home safely … from quite a ways away.

They are both truly lucky to be as healthy as they are. They’re lucky to be alive. They both could have easily been killed, if they’d been in a smaller car, or there had been more traffic on the road they were on. For that I am truly grateful. There are a lot of things to be thankful for in this. The car may be totaled, but I kind of hated that car, anyway. It was too big for my spouse — or just about anyone — to handle safely. Especially in low visibility. Or where the space is tight. They felt safe in it, but that’s a grand illusion.

I have no idea where or how we’re going to replace the vehicle, but I’ll figure something out. I just got some money from an estate settlement from a relative who died within the past year, and I was going to use that money to fix the house. But it looks like it may go to either fixing this car or buying a new (to me) one.

My insurance company already hates me, because I’ve filed claims for damage to the house that was actually my fault, rather than an accident. I didn’t realize you can’t file a claim if it’s your fault, or if you didn’t call a repair person to look at it before. I thought you could file your claim and then have the repair person come. I guess it’s the other way around. And now I look like an insurance fraudster. Nice.

But this accident was not my spouse’s fault, and it’s a legitimate claim. Basically, a young kid driving a fast car got “adventurous” on a very narrow road and caused 13 cars to pile up. 7 of them had to be towed (including ours), and a whole bunch of people went to the hospital, including my spouse and their friend/business associate.

And I spent Saturday evening and all day Sunday dealing with the fallout.

I know I’m rambling here. I’m tired and still out of sorts. It’s going to be a few weeks, till this settles down, I’m sure. I just have to keep on — steady on — and take care of myself. Keep balanced. Just deal with it.

Well, anyway, it’s time to take a break. This whole thing has got me thinking a lot about trauma and how to deal with it. I’ve already written a whole long rant about it — I’m going to split it into another section and publish it later. For now, I’m going to focus on being grateful that things didn’t turn out worse.

Because they really could have.