Cool Under Fire (the Robbery Part II)

The opposite of love is not hate; it is indifference.

 

If this is indeed the case, then it stands to reason that fear and joy are also on the same emotional spectrum.  The heart racing, palms sweating – these sensations do have much in common.  For ages people have known this, telling scary stories to make the heart race, participating in extreme sports for the thrill, yes fear and excitement are closely linked. 

Far worse than terror is the inability to feel, and that was exactly what I experienced. 

I looked down at the gun pointed at my stomach and it was as if all emotions were siphoned out of me, together with the will to act of my own accord.  Time did not stretch out in eternity as can happen in terrifying moments.  Instead, I could not remember a point where I felt anything but this blank passivity; a time when I had free will. 

There was no sense of helplessness as I observed the gunman pulling the camera strap off of my wrist.  I was not afraid, I was not upset – I felt no connection to the situation.  When he reached for my purse, I let him remove it not helping not hindering.  I wasn’t upset, scared, or angry – I had less emotional investment than if I had been watching a movie. 

Oh the robbery was frightening, I am completely honest when I tell people that it was.  I was shaken up for weeks after.  However the strange empty feeling of detachment – that is what truly terrified me, and what was worse, remnants of the deadness lingered.  In that moment, and for long after, I could not recall the distant tang emotions even well enough to crave them.  I knew that I was supposed to be frightened, but all I could muster were the words – the emotions were slow to follow. 

“Wow, I’m impressed with your cool under fire,” one friend told me. 

A part of me wishes I were really that cool – able to laugh danger in the face – to look calmly down the barrel of a gun without batting an eye. In some ways it would be great if I had a firm grasp and clear head in and things like that really didn’t phase me.  Unfortunately what had happened was almost the reverse.  In that situation I didn’t have a choice – I wasn’t acting, I wasn’t even reacting and there is nothing cool about losing your initiative.

Could I have been in shock?  Well, shock was possible, but doesn’t that usually happen after the accident?  This incident didn’t seem big enough to put me in shock either, and there really hadn’t been any fear.  No, as comforting and normal an explanation as that would be, that wasn’t it.  The more I thought about it the more I realized that something about this sense of dispassionate detachment was familiar.  The feeling's familiarity is what had really bothered me....

And then I had it.  The flat affect – that was the feeling. 

But why then?  Why was it that I detached in a situation where adrenaline and fight or flight by all rights should have been in full effect?  Why had my self-preservation instinct picked that moment to go on holiday?

Stress – that it was as if the stress and emotional overload had clogged my ability to feel or react. It worked well in that situation but had circumstances been different something like that could be terribly dangerous. 

How to keep your wits about you and think quickly in high-stress environments? How to keep your head and your heart with you?  How not to detach? How could I ensure my emotion and decision-making motherboard didn’t short circuit?  How could I prevent this from happening again?

For many brain injury-related drawbacks there is an obvious solution.  Get more sleep, avoid stress, keep a regular schedule, and so forth.  I wish that I had the answer to these questions as well, but I do not.  I have thought long and hard searching for solutions but have come up empty handed.

Like every puzzle there is a solution, I am sure of it. I might still be too close to see the problem.  I still feel the icy breath of the flat affect and initiation deficits pulling at me. Whatever the case for the time being a resolution remains frustratingly out of reach.  I only hope that relaying this will help me to shake off the last of their chill….

Any ideas or suggestions as to ways to truly remain “cool under fire,” without utter detachment or tricks to thinking on your feet would be greatly appreciated.

Sometimes All You Need is a Little Jumpstart

"Oh yes, I know about initiation problems.  Most days S would be perfectly happy if I let her sleep all day.  Is it that way with you?"  

"No, not really anymore" I told V.  My mind conveniently "misfiling" memory after memory of my starter breaking.   

I am torn as to whether it is a blessing or a curse, but even when I try to think of examples of TBI affecting my life, my mind will frequently bury all but the most ostentatious incidents.  On one hand it is good that I don't spend my time ruminating on these problems.  On the other, those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.  

Admittedly, things have gotten much better since writing, but I cannot call these memories up at will - I still need a reminder.  A reminder like finding myself facing the deficit again.  

I got home Friday evening with just enough time to change and get ready to go out and meet S.  I walked in the door with every intention of going out again, but the instant I sat down it was as if all will had been syphoned from me.  I hadn't seen S in months and we'd finally made a plan to meet up, but when she called the first words out of my mouth were whining about the weather.  After discussing it, we decided to postpone meeting up until late afternoon the next day. I had plans in her neighborhood anyway, it would work out perfectly.

It was cold, but canceling plans at the last minute goes against my entire ideology. (if she'd sounded excited about going I probably would have forced myself.)  And staying home alone on a Friday night?  I didn't cook.  I didn't bake. I didn't write.  I had a dinner of 2 pieces of cold pita and hummus, watched a film I had rented, I'm Not There, and went to bed early.

The next day I woke up around 10.  I didn't want to, but I glanced at the ridiculously long to do list by my bed, and willed myself to the shower.  I couldn't afford to give myself a lazy Saturday I had places to go and things to do:

-Follow up on a letter from the Social Security administration

Go to the library to 

-Return books, films, and get some writing done

-Look up Media Bistro and Toastmasters 

- Research TBI

- Send emails with TBI advice 

- Contact organizations

Buy

- 3 birthday presents

-  Adhesive for my full length mirror (despite the nails, it had fallen)

- Clothes hangers

- Groceries at a vegetarian supermarket in chinatown http://www.vegieworld.com/

Meet

- M for lunch

- S for tea and to give her a holiday present

- J for dinner and a movie

- Y for a dance party in Brooklyn

I showered with the best intentions for a productive day.  When I made it back my room, on the other hand, I saw my futon and all virtuous thoughts evaporated.  I pulled a fresh pair of pajamas (hey, work out clothes can double as pajamas) out of my closet, and fell into bed.  M's call at 11 didn't even wake me.  

When I woke around 12:30, my tummy was voicing its complaints.  I lay there for another hour, unable to move, not reading, not watching television, my mind a blank, until my stomach all but grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me into the kitchen.  When I opened the refrigerator door I realized my mistake.  I usually have quick and easy food in my fridge, but I hadn't gone shopping in a while.  I had eaten my last piece of pita bread the night before.  If I wanted to eat, I'd have to go out, order in, or actually prepare something.

I crossed the options off:  going out was out of the question, ordering in required a phone call, not to mention human interaction, and I certainly wasn't up to that, and no way was I going to prepare food.  What could I eat?  Finally made due with a piece of candied ginger, and two spoonfuls of crunchy peanut butter mixed with honey.  Yeah, I know.

When I got back to my room, I sent M a text message apologetically canceling, and went back to laying in bed.  A ship dead in the water, I could not get myself out of bed, I couldn't start anything.  Suddenly my conversation with V came flooding back along with memories of past initiation problems.  None of this helped.  My starter was broken - all I could do was lie there, phone by my side where I had dropped it after sending M the text.

M wrote back at 4:30, hoping I felt better, and minutes later S called to (thankfully) postpone our plans yet again, and I went back to my motivation dead zone.   

An hour later J texted me: "Pick you up at 7?"

Oh.  He was picking me up.  I couldn't weasel my way out using the weather as an excuse.  Not having enough energy, motivation, or drive even to try and think of another excuse, I typed two letters:  "OK"  Fine.  I was going to dinner at 7.

At 6:53 I looked at the clock.  "Oh," I thought to myself, "Now I really have to get ready."  I lurched up, pulled on some clothes, and was in the middle of hunting for my mascara, when J called to tell me he was a few blocks away.  

Thankfully my parents instilled a firm sense of obligation in me, or I wouldn't have been able to pull myself out of bed.  And thank goodness I am dating a boy who has a car and actually drags me out of my apartment, and kick-start me.

Initiation deficits are one of the more insidious of the TBI problems that I face.  It can affect all parts of your life.  Saturday was a good, albeit brief, example of what initiation deficits can do.  It is very odd, often I will want to do something and know that I need to, but won't be able to start the activity myself.  Be it doing laundry (even dropping it off at the laundromat), buying food, looking for a job, starting a new activity (even one I genuinely want to do), leaving for the concert, or whatever it might be.  Though frequently mistaken for it, initiation is not the same thing as procrastination.  In some instances the task just seems overwhelming, and the concept of starting it simply is beyond me.  On other occasions, I know what to do, and how to do it, but I simply can't get started.  

I wish that I could give advice on how to overcome initiation problems once and for all, I would love someone to enlighten me, or the magic fairy to wave her wand and keep me from getting "stuck."  Alas, all I can offer is how I cope.  

As I said, keeping my word, being on time, and reliable is extremely important to me.  Because of this, if a friend asks me to do something, be somewhere, or I have an appointment with them, I do everything in my power not to disappoint, and happily this can override even my problems with initiation.  

If it is not that way already, I would recommend making punctuality and keeping your appointments a priority.  The next step is to talk to your family and friends  about this issue and let them know ways they can help "jump-start" you.  It is almost never a big thing.  As far as starting projects, looking for work, or things of that nature often all it takes is a suggestion, or hearing about something from a new perspective.  For errands, your family or friends can recommend you do them together.  And for events, you can always just go with friends.  For me, at least, all it takes is pulling me out of the stuck place I'm in, and I am up and running.  It can even be hard to stop!

As always, I'd love to hear any questions, comments, or suggestions.  It would be great to hear your stories, and other ideas for coping with initiation problems....