Brain Fog

Memory? I don't know where it went. Perhaps a virus ate it a long time ago. Perhaps it fell in a vent.

It first disappeared when I was really young, and I couldn’t find my way home. After I drove by a number of times, I had to call my mother on the phone.

Years later it disappeared again when my doctors prescribed too many powerful meds. Instead of getting better, I had to make good friends with my bed.

A few times I’ve had amnesia and felt like I was hopelessly lost. Then I had to dig my way out of a metaphorical deep freeze and wait for my brain to defrost.

I learned many life lessons but soon forgot, so I’d have to learn them again. Many times I couldn’t remember places I’ve lived and certainly couldn’t remember when.

I recognize people I know, but can't remember from where. It's embarrassing when I pretend I do while I stare at the color of their hair.

I knew your name yesterday, but today I've forgotten. Fortunately, I didn't leave anything in the refrigerator to get rotten.

I file papers neatly into organized folders. But somehow the piece of paper I need must have been moved by an invisible soldier.

I wrote something down on a piece of paper so I won’t forget what it is. But the paper seems to have relocated itself, and I’m sure it knows it won’t be missed.

I've driven to that place at least six times so far, but still need my GPS to tell me where to turn. You’d think by now I would have figured it out, and to be frank, it has me concerned.

Once I was about to go somewhere but couldn’t remember where I put my keys. I finally gave up, unzipped my jacket, and found them hooked to the neck of my tee.

I can’t remember what I eat for meals, so I log what I eat in a book. Then when I get hungry, I can flip through the pages and look.

I just ate lunch an hour ago, but I forgot to write it down in my log. Now I can’t remember what I had, and my mind is lost in a fog.

I went to the store to purchase something, but now I can’t remember what. I looked around and went home again. It would have been easier to have it delivered by truck.

After 43 moves, I better stay put and never move again. That way my car can remember where home is, and I won’t have to make anymore new friends.

When I wake up in the morning, I can't remember the day before. It turned out I no longer need to worry when I go to bed at night because I can't even remember what I wore.

I have to read what I write many times--because by the time I get to the next paragraph, what I already wrote has slipped my mind.

I write articles and stories which I publish on my blog and in books, then promptly forget they exist. It’s nice to have books to read again, so my experiences don’t evaporate into mist.

Sometimes I wonder if what I wrote about really happened or whether they were just illusions. Thinking like this can surely stir up quite a bit of confusion.

I’ve saved thousands of digital files, but now I wonder why. Maybe I thought I would read them, I can’t remember I have them, and I can’t take any of it with me when I die.

I wonder if all my ideas come from a completely different part of my brain. Somehow they weave their way down to my fingers, without the need for me to retain.

Memory, oh memory, where art thou now? I even forget to breathe sometimes, and it's not because I don't know how.

I forget to breathe while I sleep and need a machine to jumpstart my lungs. I forget to breathe while I stand at the kitchen sink because my legs were stronger when I was young.

Of course, when you don’t get enough oxygen, brain cells will certainly die. I know I should meditate daily and deep breathing can make me feel high.

Exercise can do the same thing with your blood pumping swiftly through your veins. It really feels good when I remember to, and I simply must take control of the reins.

My internet just went out again, and I wonder if my brain disconnects the same way. I suppose it no longer matters because I can’t remember what I was going to say.

I'm surprised I made it here to be with you and even more surprised if I remember your name. It's not that I don't care about you, my memory is to blame.

There is some good news in all of this, sometimes a memory floats to the surface. But I have to catch it quickly before it loses its sense of purpose.

I’ll read this poem a hundred times, and each time it will be brand new. It will spark a smile and entertain me, and I hope it has entertained you.

The Subject of Healing Trauma Continues/Synchronicity

I used to think that trauma just involved people (including me) emotionally and psychologically. I also used to think that “other” people didn’t suffer the consequences of trauma the way I had.

Yes, I’ve come a long way in processing traumatic experiences, but it seems like there is always more work to be done. (Life is a journey...) When I picked up Waking the Tiger, Healing Trauma by Peter Levine, I found this out. Apparently, trauma affects a lot more than I had conceived. According to Levine, EVERYONE is affected by trauma. Everyone? That is new news to me!

Thanks to people like Levine who love to do research and have an insatiable thirst for knowledge and answers, I’m sure it was no accident that I came across his book. It meant to me that I was being provided with another piece of my journey to healing. Indeed, I also have an insatiable thirst for knowledge and answers when it pertains to my health and the health of people I care about.

Levine studied what animals do when they are faced with a traumatic event—like being attacked by a predator. Many times, they FREEZE and PLAY DEAD. Here I had been harboring the false belief that freezing and pretending I was asleep, which had been my reaction to impending traumatic events, was not OK. I had no idea that it was a natural instinct.

But animals have the ability to ‘shake it off’ while us humans stay frozen, and what stays frozen is energy that gets trapped in our physical bodies. We tense, brace ourselves in fear, freeze, play dead, collapse in terror, but never discharge the pent-up energy our brains decided was necessary to escape those situations (and our attackers).

I will definitely pay closer attention to the animal kingdom now.

Levine wrote: “Healing trauma requires a direct experience of the living, feeling, knowing organism” and I like that he refers the healing process as, “a heroic journey that belongs to each of us.”

He concluded that “post-traumatic symptoms are, fundamentally, incomplete physiological responses suspended in fear.” “These symptoms will not go away until the responses are discharged and completed.”

“The traumatized veteran, the rape survivor, the abused child, the Impala, and the bird all have been confronted by overwhelming situations. If they are unable to orient and choose between fight or flight, they will freeze or collapse. Those who are able to discharge that energy will be restored. Rather than moving through the freezing response, as animals do routinely, humans often begin a downward spiral characterized by an increasingly debilitating constellation of symptoms.”

As for those symptoms, I don’t know about you, but I was prescribed a lot of medications. I am very grateful I’ve gotten off the last of them. They can be useful for buying time to help the traumatized individual stabilize, however, they suppress the body’s own balancing response to stress and interfere with healing. Of course, unless you have a qualified therapist who can help you with the process of releasing trauma, medications may be your only remedy.

When 1,000 men and women were studied, 40% had gone through a traumatic event in the three years prior. These traumas included being raped or physically assaulted, being in a serious car accident, getting a routine invasive medical procedure, witnessing someone else being killed or injured, or devastation by natural disasters. 

I’m not sure how this next statistic was achieved, but “somewhere between seventy-five and one hundred million Americans have experienced childhood sexual and physical abuse.”

What’s even more staggering is: “The conservative AMA (American Medical Association) estimates that over thirty percent of all married women, as well as thirty percent of pregnant women, have been beaten by their spouses.”

With a new blog post in mind with what I’d learned from this book, I stepped outside to survey the scene outside my apartment building. We are in the process of having the landscaping redone in front of our apartments. As I walked along to the buildings to the right that had already been completed, a resident stepped outside and began a conversation. At first, we were talking about the landscape. I can’t remember how the next part of the conversation began. Was it me that brought up pasture-raised eggs?

I was enthralled with her narration about her life growing up in Mississippi. They didn’t have electricity which meant no refrigerators, washing machines, or lighting. They raised their own animals which were periodically slaughtered for food to supplement what they grew in their garden. She described the process of coating the pork with a certain type of sugar and hanging it up to dry, which lasted all winter. They used lanterns for lighting. 

She said she was happy and that her parents were awesome. Then she married a man who beat her (with a little more detail than what I am writing here), and she had six children with him. This part didn't make sense to me because I thought if you had a good upbringing, you chose a good partner. Thus, I found myself losing the excuse that I chose 'bad' partners based on the way my father was.

I changed the subject to something more pleasant. I hope that was the right thing to do. Someday, I may find out more. I considered the conversation a moment of synchronicity. After all, it was related to the topic I intended to write about.

It’s nice to see that I am not alone in what I went through. I continue to read, become aware, and discover the messages my body communicates to me. Next, I want to write about hope.

No matter what we’ve been through, there are processes for discharging the frozen energy in our bodies. Levine wrote about Somatic Experiencing. Then there was a post I saw on Facebook by Lissa Rankin, MD about the inability to cure disease no matter how healthy your lifestyle is if you have unhealed trauma. 

I was ‘sensing’ that something was still missing even though I’ve been eating the right food and taking the right supplements, and like it happens more often than not these days, the info I need shows up in numerous places. 

Dr. Rankin wrote that trauma is anything that is perceived as a threat, overwhelms your coping capacity, produces a sense of powerlessness, produces a feeling of isolation and aloneness, or violates your expectations. “To permanently cure disease, you must do the deep inner work necessary to face, heal, and clear trauma.” “The great news is that trauma is curable!” http://lissarankin.com

When Joseph Fred Wright contacted me about assisting him with a new book, he sent me his previous book titled: Transcripts from the Psychic Hypnotist: The Other Side of Medicine along with his self-hypnosis CD Awaken Your Inner Healer. Synchronicity… how did this 79-year old man know I could use this information? Hypnosis is one of the successful means of helping people heal from trauma. The book he needed help with was on a completely different topic. 

Would you believe he found an article I had forgotten I had written about designing your own book covers and posted it on his Facebook page a month before he was referred to me by the founder of The Central Texas Writers Society I belong to? Synchronicity! I wanted to learn more about this author, so I browsed through his Facebook feed. I saw the article but didn't realize I was the author until after I opened it and read through the end. Memory is not my strong point.

Another moment of synchronicity occurred when I went to my Netflix list and chose Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. In Cosmos, I am enthralled by the narration about matter… atoms and molecules… how much we have in common with nature and animals… the vastness of space… how most of everything is empty space... and everything is energy.

Plus… the numbers 1111 have been showing up… the mileage on my car when I looked down at it… the time on the clock in the car as I pulled in to my parking space 11:11. I opened a video posted on Facebook which had the date of June 11, 2011, at the beginning of it. One of the meanings I found for this related to your thoughts creating your own reality. Pay attention!

I wonder… is this related to the topic of trauma that is frozen in my physiology calling out to me asking for release? Is it related to all the information relating to healing trauma that has been showing up in numerous places? 

1111… pay attention! Believe me, I am!