Change it up

How easy it is, to fall into a rut.

Day in and day out, I have pretty much the same routine, and part of me likes it. I get up, I exercise, I have my breakfast, I go to work, I come home, make supper, watch some television or read or do some work, and then I go to bed. In between, I may stretch or take a walk or do some sort of additional exercise. I’ll also check my email periodically and have a cup of coffee and a snack in the afternoon to keep me going.

Each day, it’s pretty much the same. Even on the weekends, my routine doesn’t change much. It’s great for keeping myself on track with a consistent, reliable schedule. And it makes me quite reliable, as well. I often have so much going on in my life, I don’t have a lot of leeway to stray from my path. That makes me a valuable employee, a responsible spouse, and a solid community member.

It also represents a bit of a change from how I used to live my life, when each day was a new form of improvisation, and I really didn’t have much routine at all. When I was much younger, I drifted from job to job, relationship to relationship, state to state, country to country, residence to residence, a bohemian vagabond who was more interested in the experience of living, than actually accomplishing anything.

Then I got all respectable and what-not. I got a real job. I settled down with a partner. I had responsibilities. And I changed how I did things, becoming responsible to a fault — rigid and regimented and not very flexible at all.

I went from one extreme to another. It wasn’t all bad. It made a lot possible for me that had eluded me for years — a steady income, a (somewhat) predictable career path, respect from people around me, a higher standard of living.

But I’m starting to feel antsy again. Sometimes it’s nice to change things up a little bit, and I’m beginning to feel the pull of change. I guess working in technology for the past 20 years, I’ve sort of become dependent on constant change — I expect it, I’ve acclimated to it, as things are never static for long in the technology field.

The trick now is to introduce some change into my life that doesn’t derail everything I’ve accomplished. My job history is dotted with relatively brief (12-18 months) positions that focused on one thing, then I “traded up’ to something else. I’m not sure I want to do that. I need a change. I crave a change. But I need to find somewhere to have healthy change — not destructive change.

In the past, I’ve been all too quick to just cut and run, when things got too familiar, or too comfortable, or downright easy. I need things to be challenging, and it’s always been tough to find regular challenge that can last. Especially when I’m working in environments that are geared towards standardizing everything and making things as predictable and as “safe” as possible.

I suck at safe. It’s just not me. But being a danger-seeking adventurer doesn’t go over that well in the corporate world.

I need change, and I need it on a regular basis. But I’m also realistic. Looking at my life, I don’t really want to get rid of my routine — it makes my daily life possible in ways that a hectic, constantly changing and shifting series of distractions can never do. But I do want to change some things about my routine. Like the exercise I do, first thing. For about a year, I did the same exercises — lifting free weights in the same kinds of sets, in the same sequence — and I never deviated from that.

Which is fine. If that’s all I wanted to do. But I found that it had all become quite rote and, well, boring. And it wasn’t waking me up quite the way it used to. I guess I’d gotten too acclimated, and I didn’t actually need to work at it anymore — which is the whole point of my exercises, first thing — to work out and wake myself up in the process.

So, I switched up the weights I was using and went heavier. I also changed the number of repetitions in each set.

I also moved away from doing ONLY weights, and I started doing more full-range movement, to strengthen and stretch more of me, not just isolated muscle groups. I started doing a bit of yoga, following along with some videos I found.

The overall results have been good, I’m happy to report.I feel more awake and more “with it,” thanks to this shift in how I’m starting my day. I feel more energized, actually, with these small alterations in my routine. I still have the structure of the routine to get me into my day, but I have some leeway in the midst of it all to perk things up a bit. I can have the best of both worlds – a regular routine that gets me into the day, along with some variety to keep me interested and engaged.

The same thing holds true for my work at my day job. I’ve pretty much “got it down,” after nearly a year of some pretty arduous efforts. Now I need to keep with it and build on what I’ve got, rather than running off to find some other way to keep my attention trained on what it is I’m doing. I need to watch my energy, that’s for sure, and not wear myself out. But I also need to keep active and not let myself fall into the trap of getting bored… and then getting in trouble.

It sounds odd to hear myself saying this. At my age, one would think I have more sense and more stability than to be debating this, but it’s a lifelong habit of cutting and running that I have to overcome. It’s taken me three years of regular rehab — talking with someone who understands my cognitive issues within the context of my history of TBIs — but I’m finally at the point where I realize that I don’t have to completely trash my life, in order to stay engaged.

Actually, on a deeper level there’s something important going on — I’m finally at the point where I (at long last) realize that I’ve been trashing my life to stay engaged, all along. I never realized that, till I learned about how TBI and neurology affect attention and distraction and resistance to interference, that seeking out drama and “refreshed” situations (read, new jobs, new friends, new homes, new… everything) was my way of keeping myself alive and involved in my life.

It’s not that I deliberately want to sabotage myself, or that I don’t think I deserve to have success in the long term. People have told me that story about myself for as long as I can remember. They’ve told me the following:

  • You’re a quitter.
  • You don’t have what it takes to get the job done.
  • You’re not up to the task – it’s too hard for you.
  • You’re trying to sabotage yourself/the group/the job for some deep-seated psychological reason.
  • You don’t think you deserve success.
  • You just can’t.

In fact, the exact opposite was true in many cases.

  • I wasn’t a quitter – I had a really hard time holding my attention on tasks that were easy, and I didn’t know I had that problem, so I could never address it.
  • I did have what it takes to get the job done – in fact, I had more than enough, but the easier the task got, the harder it was for me to concentrate.
  • I was up to the task – it was actually too easy for me.
  • I wasn’t trying to sabotage yourself/the group/the job for some deep-seated psychological reason – it was a neurological and physiological combination of compromised attention, susceptibility to distraction, and anxiety that set in when things started to go wrong.
  • I didn’t start out thinking I didn’t deserve success – but after so many failures and aborted attempts, I started to believe it.
  • I could — I just couldn’t see what my issues were, so I couldn’t deal with them.

As a matter of fact, many of the “decisions” I have made to either “give up” or “start fresh” were not conscious decisions at all. They were impulses driven by a serious need for alertness and attention — which was physiologically compromised by my neurology, and which I could only get back through changing up things, when they got familiar and comfortable and I was approaching mastery.

The easier things got for me, the less I paid attention, and then things started to fall apart. When things started to fall apart, I would get anxious, wondering why the hell things were starting to go south — and that anxiety and worry would further encroach on my already limited attentional capacity. I would start making choices that stressed me out, and because I thrive on a moderate dose of stress hormones, I would keep that up, gradually exhausting myself and burning myself out and endangering my working relationships.

The downward cycle would commence. And keep going. Until I was out looking for another job.

I would go looking for something else that wasn’t familiar — I’d wander off in search of more excitement that didn’t involve the situation I was fleeing. I told myself I wanted another adventure. It wasn’t that I needed to trash my life — I just couldn’t think as well as I wanted to, anymore, in those old familiar surroundings. I couldn’t function as well as I desired, and that made me very anxious and complicated everything all the more.

In a way, the easier things got for me, the harder it was for me to stay.

So, I didn’t.

Now, here I am at a job I really like, with people I really like, in an industry that’s actually stable and growing. I’ve got it really good. They like me, too. There’s absolutely no reason I should leave. So, I need to find ways to keep myself alert and engaged and attentive. Focused. Intact.

My TBIs have trashed my life often enough in the past. Time to change things up. For the better.

When getting hurt feels good

Hurt doesn't always hurt

I’m back from vacation, and I’m already starting to feel over-taxed. Time to get out in front of what I’m doing and take command of my days, my time, my energy. Most important of all,  I need to not get down on myself, thinking there’s something wrong with me, because I can’t “keep up” with everything going on. I have more stringent definitions of what “keeping up” is all about, anyway, so I need to give myself a break and be a bit easier on myself.

I’m doing great. I really am. I’ve been getting great reviews at work, and I have a really good feeling about this year. We’re already through the first quarter, and we’re moving on. Just gotta keep moving on…

One thing I noticed – again – is that I tend to push myself harder than I should. It’s partly because I have high standards, it’s partly because I have this perpetual sense that I’m falling behind, and it’s partly because I really dig the feeling of pushing myself really hard — even to the point where I’m hurting myself. I’ll stay up too late, take on too many tasks, drive myself onward-onward and feel the effects of it, day in and day out, till I crash. But I won’t stop.

I did this when I was younger, too. When I played sports, I would just push myself and push myself and push myself, playing through many injuries, including head injuries. It didn’t help that I had pre-existing concussions by the time I got to high school and started playing organized sports. I think, in fact, it contributed to my willingness/eagerness to play through injuries. Definitely, having the prior concussions contributed to the impact of the ones I sustained in high school. They made the actual injuries worse, and they made my responses to them less intelligent and more stubborn and non-compliant.

Why?

Am I innately self-destructive? No, I’m not.

Do I want to hurt myself? Did I have a deathwish, back when I was younger? No, that’s not it.

Do I disrespect myself and think poorly of myself, so I have to be punished for some terrible thing I think I”ve done? Sometimes I feel that way, but not all the time.

So, why do I do it? Why do I push myself hard (and crash hard, too) when I know it has a negative effect on me and my world.

Because as much as I intellectually know it bodes ill for the rest of my life, the simple fact is, it feels really good to push through, to play through, to keep going.

This comes back, yet again to the energy/focus/analgesic stress idea that’s been on my mind a lot, over the past years. It has to do with the calming effects of stress hormones, the way they help block out all extraneous details and simplify things for me. It has to do with the pain-deadening effects of the biochemical cascade that comes online when you’re in high-pressure, dangerous, high-stress situations. It has to do with the rush and the chill that comes from extreme living.

It has to do with pain and trouble introducing a relief of some kind, and how I instinctively seek that out.

It’s not that I want to harm myself with stress and pain. I actually want to help myself. Because the pain and fatigue and confusion of so many stimuli coming up — when I’m fatigued, I become even more sensitive, and my hearing, sense of smell and touch, and eyesight all become amplified, picking up every little thing. It’s painful and confusing, and I just want it to stop.

So, I push myself. I push myself through the work I’m doing. I push myself to get up earlier, to stay up later, to take on more tasks, and I overwhelm myself.

On purpose.

Not because I want to hurt myself, but because I want to help myself. And the stress hormones do just that. The adrenaline I get pumping, the intense focus I bring, the ability to shut everything out, just to focus on one individual task or experience at a time… it gives me a huge amount of relief. Relief from the aches and pains and sore tightness in my joints and muscles. Relief from the fog that sets in from having so many responsibilities going on that I lose track of. Relief from my insecurities about being able to get anything done at all.

Just relief.

And that’s a problem. It’s always been a problem, for as long as I can remember. As far as I’m concerned, this need — real, physical, logistical (NOT psychological) need — to plunge into stressful situations — has been at the root of many of my issues over the years. I can very easily see how it has fed my behavior issues, my distractability, my inability to complete things, my restlessness and inability to stay the course over so many years before I got started with rehab. Contrary to what many psychologists will say, I’m convinced (from my own personal experience) that it’s NOT a psychological choice to “sabotage” myself — that’s not it at all. It’s a real physical, logistical need that’s borne of neurological conditions, not psychological ones.

And to think that for so many years, I was convinced that there was something wrong with my psychology, that I was suffering from low self-esteem, that I was self-destructive, that I was somehow psychologically impaired, when all along, there were fundamental underlying neurological and biochemical reasons for my behavior and choices.

It makes me a little nuts, to think of all the years I spent feeling psychologically impaired because of misunderstood neurological conditions. But at least I’m aware of the true nature of my issues now. And that’s half the battle, right there.

If I can get some rest, step back, take another look at how I’m living my life, and make some choices that I want to make about how I want to live my life, rather than having them be made for me by reflex or reaction, drive by others’ agendas, that will be good. I’m doing that now. I’m looking at my pain levels, my sleeping issues (I’ve started lying down on the couch earlier in the evening and just going to sleep for a while when I’m tired, so I’m less exhausted when I actually go to bed – and I can actually GET to bed), my daily routine… I’m looking at it all.

Vacation was good, but it didn’t solve everything. But at least it gave me a little more rest and some distance to contemplate what it is I’m doing with myself and why/how I want to do it all.

Which is good.

Getting hurt isn’t the only thing that feels good. Sometimes getting things right feels pretty awesome, too.

I just need to make a point of focusing on that.

And find yet more replacements for the kinds of activities that give me that huge rush — the rush I don’t just crave, but can’t live without.

Introducing Project Brain Wave

Project Brain Wave is an initiative coming out of King of Prussia, PA.

It is

a movement of contributions committed towards the protection and preservation of athletes’ careers through the sharing of knowledge and personal stories.  Project Brain Wave originated at the community level in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, and has since expanded to become adopted by The Concussion Blog, for the goals of all contributors at this site target one thing—addressing the sports concussion crisis.  Through this effort, we hope to give a platform for the voices of those who were once rejected by the stigma concussions are associated with.  The sharing of stories of those who have suffered from mild traumatic brain injury, as well as the thorough distribution of facts regarding the brain and concussions specifically, will be essential to the fight to gain universal attention and acknowledgement of concussions in sports.  As Christopher Nowinski once said in an interview with John Gonoude, “We need to take a step back and start taking care of ourselves.”

Contributors are:

john gonoude

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Co-Director of Project Brain Wave
Writer, The Concussion Blog
View John’s Bio

tracy  yatsko

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Education Advocate for Project Brain Wave
Public Speaker
View Tracy’s Bio

glenn  beckmann

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Innovation Specialist for Project Brain Wave
Marketing Communications Manager, Schutt Sports
View Glenn’s Bio

dustin  fink

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Co-Director of Project Brain Wave
Founder, The Concussion Blog
View Dustin’s Bio

lauren  benwell

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Education Advocate for Project Brain Wave
Director of Public Relations & Marketing, Full 90 Sports
Some of these folks have been active over at The Concussion Blog. It’s great to see them branching out and taking more of this information online.

But getting hit on the head was just part of the game

I’ve gotten to watching YouTube videos today, since I’m off work. Here’s another one I just watched:

Just part of the game

I’ve been thinking back to when I was a kid, and all the rough-housing I and my siblings did. We were a pretty rough-and-tumble gang, and we played a lot of games that involved a fair amount of hitting and falling and running into each other. We used to play full-contact soccer in the back yard, and by the end of the game, any living plant on the periphery of the “field” would be shredded, we’d be all hopped up from chasing and jumping and crashing into each other, and our heads would be spinning. It’s like we got this major contact high from going all-out, and the experience of falling down (or being taken down) and having your vision be disrupted, have your hearing get weird, and be wobbly and unsteady on your feet, wasn’t something we were particularly worried about.

If anything, it was part of the game. We just went all-out. And this was in the days before organized sports took over. These were sandlot/backyard games, and God only knows how many concussive or subconcussive hits I took over the course of my childhood and youth.

In retrospect, when I think back on those games, I can remember some element of wooziness many times. I can practically feel the wooziness when I think back. Memory is a tricky thing, of course, and there’s no guarantee that I’m 100% on, but the feeling of being out of it when you got up and went back to playing was not unfamiliar to me. If anything, it meant that you were playing right. You were going all-out. That’s all that mattered.

There’s another piece of this sports concussion discussion that I think gets lost in the shuffle — the fact that sustaining a concussion, getting hurt, having the breath knocked out of you feels… well… good. It wasn’t a bad thing. It didn’t scare me. It didn’t even hurt as much as it might have. OR if it did hurt, the pain-suppressing endorphines would flood in, and all would be right and well with the world.

Getting concussed was actually a good thing, as far as my feelings told me. It may have knocked me off my feet and pulled the rug out from under me when I got back up, leaving me wobbly and woozy, but otherwise, I felt like I could do anything. Like I was a berserker in some Norse battle, where the worse I was hurt, the more intent I was on going back in.

This is all anecdotal, of course, so it’s an unscientific observation. But it may be worthwhile considering, among athletic trainers and others who are looking out for kids’ safety on the playing field. Feeling something that is closer to good than bad, after you’ve sustained a brain injury, is all the more incentive to lie about your symptoms and dive right back into the game. And having more concussions in the course of playing isn’t necessarily detected as a bad thing. It feels right, and since we live in a society that tells us “If it feels right, it must be right,” going with your instinct to seek out more of the same kinds of hits that knocked you off balance would seem to be the “right” thing to do.

It’s exactly the opposite of right, and it’s very, very bad. But it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Great video, compliments of The Concussion Blog

Thanks Concussion Blog

It’s great to hear stories from female athletes. I’ve read that females tend to be more vocal about their issues than males — hopefully we can all learn something from the experiences they’re talking about.

A few days back, I wrote about how head injuries can affect women differently than men, but I think that straight talk about concussions cuts across gender lines, and seeing individuals being honest and detailed about their experiences can help others who may have difficulty vocalizing — male or female.

What IS a concussion?

The Concussion Blog can tell you.

One concussion, two concussions, three concussions, four…

I had a meeting with my neuropsych last week, when we talked about my concussive history. I had read the article by Malcom Gladwell in the New Yorker called Offensive Play, and I had some questions about how my past might have made me more susceptible to tbi, later in life.

I was wondering aloud if my rough-and-tumble childhood (when falling and hitting my head and getting up and getting back in the game ASAP were regular parts of play), might have brought me lots of subconcussive events, like so many impacts on the football field. I checked in with my neuropsych, and they had me recap from the top, all the head injuries I could recall. My recollection and understanding of them was considerably better than it was, just six months ago. What came out of it was the determination that I’d had enough genuine concussions to do a fair amount of damage to myself. Forget about subconcussive events; the concussive events sufficed to cause plenty of problems, on their own.

It kind of threw me off for a day or two, and I got pretty stressed out and ended up pushing myself too hard, and then melted down in the evening. Not good. It’s hard, to hear that you’re brain damaged. It’s not much fun, realizing — yet again — that you haven’t had “just” one concussion, but a slew of them. And considering that I’m in this new job where I have to perform at my best, it really got under my skin. It’s taken me a few days to catch up on my sleep and settle myself down, after the fact. But I’m getting there. My past hasn’t changed, nor has my history. I’m just reminded of it all over again…

All told, I’ve sustained about eight concussions (or concussive events) that I can remember. Possible signs of concussion (per the Mayo Clinic website) are:

  • Confusion
  • Amnesia
  • Headache
  • Dizziness
  • Ringing in the ears
  • Nausea or vomiting
  • Slurred speech
  • Fatigue

Some symptoms of concussions are not apparent until hours or days later. They include:

  • Memory or concentration problems
  • Sensitivity to light and noise
  • Sleep disturbances
  • Irritability
  • Depression

I experienced most of these (except for nausea and vomiting, and not so much slurred speech, that I can remember) during my childhood and teen years. Not surprising, considering that I had a number of falls and accidents and sports injuries over the course of my childhood.

It’s pretty wild, really, how those experiences of my childhood contributed to my difficulties in adulthood — especially around TBI. I’ve been in accidents with other people who had the same experience I did, but didn’t have nearly the after-effects that I suffered. For them, the incident was a minor annoyance. For me, it was a life-changing concussion. A head injury. TBI. Brain damage. Geeze…

Thinking back on the course of my life, beyond my experiences with the accidents that didn’t phaze others but totally knocked me for a loop, I can see how the after-effects like fatigue and sensitivity to light and noise, really contributed to my difficulties in life. It’s hard to be social and develop socially, when you can’t stand being around noisy peers (and who is as noisy as a gaggle of teens?). It’s hard to learn to forge friendships with girls — who always seemed so LOUD to me(!) — or hang with the guys — who were always making loud noises, like blowing things up and breaking stuff — when you can’t tolerate loudness.

And when you don’t have the stamina to stay out all night… It’s a wonder I did as well as I did, as a kid. Of course, I was always up for trying to keep up – I was always game. And I wanted so very, very badly to participate, to not get left behind, to be part of something… That kept me going. I was just lucky to have people around me who were kind-hearted and intelligent and tolerant of my faults and limitations.

Anyway, I did survive, and I did make it through the concussions of my childhood. I have even made it through the concussions of my adulthood.  And I’m still standing. I didn’t get any medical treatment for any of these events, and the most help I ever got was being pulled from the games where I was obviously worse off after my fall or the hard tackle, than I’d been before.

But one thing still bugs me, and it’s been on my mind. During my high school sports “career, ” I was a varsity letter-winning athlete who started winning awards my freshman year. I was a kick-ass runner, and I won lots of trophies. I also threw javelin in track, and by senior year, I was good enough to place first and win a blue ribbon in the Junior Olympics. Which is great! I still have the blue ribbon to prove it, complete with my distance and the date. But I have no recollection of actually being awarded the ribbon, and I barely remember the throw. I’m not even sure I can remember the event or the throw. It’s just not there. It’s gone. And it’s not coming back. Because it was probably never firmly etched in my memory to ever be retreivable.

I’ve never thought of myself as an amnesiac, but when it comes to my illustrious high school sports career, when I was a team captain and I led my teams to win after win, I have all these ribbons and medals and trophies, but almost no memory of having earned them.

Which really bums me out. What a loss that is. When I hear Bruce Springsteen’s song “Glory Days” I feel a tinge of jealousy that the guy he’s singing about can actually recall his glory days. I can’t. And that’s a loss I deeply feel, mourn… and resent. Seriously. It sucks.

This could seriously mess with my head. And sometimes it does. But on the “up” side, it might also possibly explain why I’ve been such a solid performer over the years, in so many areas, yet I can’t seem to get it into my head that I am a solid performer. My memory of having done the things I did, in the way I did them, is piecemeal at best, and utterly lacking at worst. So, even if I did do  well, how would I know it, months and years on down the line? How would I manage to form a concept of myself as successful and good and productive and inventive and trustworthy, if I have little or no recollection of having been that way in the past?

It’s a conundrum.

But I think I have an answer — keeping a journal. Keeping a record of my days, as they happen, and really getting into reliving my experiences, while they are still fresh in my mind. If I can sit down with myself at the end of a day or a week, and recap not only the events of the past hours and days, but also re-experience the successes and challenges I encountered, then I might be able to forge memories that will stay with me over time. If nothing else, at least I’ll be making a record for myself that I can look back to later. And I need to use colors to call out the good and the not-so-good, so I can easily refer back to the date and see where I had successes and failures along the way.

Most important, is my recording of successes. I’m so quick to second-guess myself and assume that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. And when I think back to the times when I overcame significant difficulties, I often lose track of the memory before I get to the end of the sequence I followed to succeed.

But I cannot let that situation persist. I need a strategy and a practice to reclaim my life from the after-effects of way too many concussions. I’m sure there are others in life who have had it far worse than me, but some of my  most valuable and possibly most treasured experiences are lost to me for all time, because I have no recollection of them.

No wonder my parents often start a conversation with me with the sentence, “Do you remember ________?”

PTSD from TBI – Exploring some possibilities

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how PTSD and TBI interrelate with one another. With so many soldiers coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan with serious issues related to TBI and PTSD… and considering how ill-informed and ill-equipped our society is in dealing with these very serious issues, I do want to try to explore some of the aspects of each.

I do this as someone with a history of TBI and PTSD. My injuries started when I was a kid, and children (and women) are more susceptible to developing PTSD, so that old habit I have of saying, “Oh, that was so long ago… I must be over it by now!” doesn’t hold water anymore. The fact of the matter is, I lived in very violent conditions as a kid, and it affected me. A lot. It was traumatic. It was distressful. I had a very disordered childhood. And the other fact of the matter is, I sustained several mild traumatic brain injuries as a kid, which did not help.

I’m going to be using Belleruth Naparstek’s book Invisible Heroes: Survivors of Trauma and How they Heal as a guideline. I’m not recommending that everyone run out and buy it — tho’ I won’t stop you if you want to. Be forewarned: I personally found a lot of the stories of trauma it recounted to be, well, traumatizing. If you’re squeamish about stories of violence and sexual abuse and terrorist attacks, you may not want to read it. I’ve read it — and struggled through it — so the damage is done with me. But you won’t necessarily have to go there, as I walk through the PTSD stuff I’ll be covering here and in later posts. I’ll also be drawing from other online sources about PTSD, and I’ll add links to other things you can read. I’ll try to avoid posting links to really awful stories. I don’t want to discount anyone’s experience, but some things I have a terrible time dealing with, and I’m guessing I’m not alone in that.

Note: This nasty habit of revealing horrible accounts to make a point about trauma is a common problem I find in current PTSD literature — it’s often written by psychotherapists who are accustomed to hearing people recount horrific events, so they can work through it. But I’m not a trained and objective psychotherapist, and I can’t stand hearing about awful crap other people went through. It makes me feel awful and wretched; there’s nothing I can do for them, which is deeply frustrating. It’s also sometimes vicariously traumatizing, which is no fun. If some therapists or researchers can find a way to recount trauma without needing to go into all the disturbing personal details, they’d be doing us all a big favor. I try to do it, here, but I’m not sure I do such a great job of it.

Anyway, back to my discussion…

Let’s start with the factors in and contributors to the development of PTSD from trauma (from Chapter 4 – “Who Suffers: How, When, Where, and Why”). They are (follow the links to see what I’ve written about each one – I’ll be updating these over time):

The Nature of the Traumatic Event

Survivor Traits

  • gender
  • age
  • psychological history
  • education
  • ethnicity
  • social support

Reactions Around the Trauma

  • panic and acute stress
  • dissociation
  • biochemical anomalies
  • drinking and intoxication
  • sense of control during the event
  • self-blame and negative beliefs
  • subsequent health problems

Many of these elements of PTSD tie in with experience of traumatic brain injury — even if it’s “mild” — in what I consider significant ways. TBI has a way of exacerbating a lot of problems, to begin with, but when it heightens the impact of something like PTSD, things can get really interesting.

In the past, I’ve talked about how PTSD can lead to TBI. In the future, I’m going to talk about how TBI can contribute to the development of PTSD.

But for now, it’s a beautiful day and I need to go outside.

Till later