Archives for July 2015

Leave not only me
But for every thought I think

I was given the ok from my surgeon to run this week. Ironically enough, the same day I could begin running again was also exactly 5 months of sobriety. Guess it was just meant to be a day of significance. I must say that given how apprehensive I was about having surgery while going through so much emotional turmoil, it lived up to the billing. The past two months were a steep challenge to say the least. Not being very mobile for the first few weeks of it were miserable. I think had I been able to get the natural highs that exercise brings the mind and body, coping with everything may have been made more manageable. The days leading up to surgery I made the hollow point of saying that if I made it through this under these circumstances, I would be stronger off in the long run. That may be true, who knows if things going the way they did will lead to me being ready for something down the line. My generation is notorious for its demand for instant gratification. So I am trying not to get sucked into that and say though I am no longer an invalid hobbling around on crutches, life is still a disaster. Things take time.

There have only been few times in my life where I was truly “terrified”. Fortunately, I haven’t been in combat situations or been face to face with anything capable of killing or maiming me. So I will attempt to talk about this without ever making light of that sort of physical and abrupt terror. The times that I did feel fear were more on a personal level and ended up leaving such deep psychological scars that it remained over a year after the events occurred. Well after my ex wife was gone, I still had physical and emotional triggers that went off when certain situations arose. This was embarrassing, confusing, and scared me. The anxiety that they caused disrupted my life at work and in public. The most vivid example is whenever someone near me made a sudden motion with their hands. I would immediately flinch, noticeably because I would raise my arms as if bracing for being struck by this person. Another trait was my inability to look people in the eye. These are called conditioned fear responses and they are automatic and not under conscious control. They develop over time when we are exposed to fearful situations over and over again. In my case, they developed because of the physical confrontations that I was put in by my ex wife. When I lived with Angelica, she noticed these traits almost immediately. We’d talk all the time so she picked up on me avoiding eye contact. Whenever she tried to tickle me, I’d brace myself as if she was going to punch me. Talking about the events that led to these kinds of reactions did help (I was also seeing a counselor) but what helped me the most was the fact that in the moment when these kinds of things happened or were noticed, we addressed them. If I flinched, she would lightly take my hands and massage them and we’d take some deep breaths together. When I’d be looking at the floor or off to some other corner of the room, she’d gently take the sides of my face and divert my eyes to her own and rub my temples while we continued the conversation. These techniques lessened my fear responses to the point where they happened rarely and I was aware of the changes. The part of the brain that controls these types of responses is called the amygdala, which determines emotional significance and automatic responses are initiated. Rapid reactivity in this part of the brain to stressful situations is a symptom of PTSD. Interestingly enough, the trigger that remains still to this day is the sound of footsteps coming up stairs. No matter how I try to slow things down and process it, my heart rate increases and I still brace my body and clench up, expecting the door to explode open moments after the footsteps stop. The house where Angelica and I lived didn’t have stairs so it never came up. The room I use at my parents house has a staircase leading up to it. The apartment I moved into last month also is on the second floor.

I’m just trying to get better. At least I can run again.