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.

The Antidote to the Flat Affect

 I am usually a little melancholy this time of year, the Accident happened a few days after Thanksgiving, so not only was I hospitalized over the holidays, but I was also becoming aware of myself and my surroundings right around this time.  However my memory still made a guppy's seem long - unless there were people around me at all times, then I couldn't remember anyone having visited.  Because of the holidays, and also because I was out of immediate danger, led to a sharp decline in the number of visitors.  These factors, combined with holiday expectations, made this a desperately lonely time for me, one memory which does linger. 

Because I live in New York, and and the rest of my family is scattered across the country, I follow in the footsteps of Scarlet O'Hara and rely on the kindness of strangers (or at least friends), to spend the holidays with.  Some years I spend the holidays with a traditional family, others I distract myself with travel, but whatever the case I have to keep busy.   If I can stay occupied and distract myself, then deadness doesn't seep in, but it's lurking, ready to work its insidious way in....  

Utterly detached, you feel the stark walls of isolation closing in .... and don't care.  You are a spectator, impassively watching.  I don't know if other survivors go through this, but I truly believe that this has to do with a lingering piece of the flat affect (not displaying emotions facially or in my voice).   It feels as if something  came loose in the accident, or some part of me didn't come back - emotions don't come naturally anymore, like they're not attached.  I'm not saying that my feelings aren't genuine, more that what should be a firm connection is barely hanging by a thread.  

For example, if I'm concentrating hard, often my face will be deadpan, and voice deadpan, or I won't have instantaneous reactions even to highly emotional situations - there's just a disconnect.   And this spectator feeling creeps in through that tiny fissure between my emotions and reaction time; and sucks me into that other universe the flat affect tore through to.  

It works its way into even the most crowded room, but in my experience, kind words, warm hugs, rousing conversation, and activity work wonders to tether me to this reality.  When the flat affect threatens to overtake me, sometimes it is too much effort to do this myself.  Though forays there may be inevitable, it's dangerous to stay too long.  This is why it's extremely important to have friends and family understand and keep you moving, connected, and out of that dead zone.  Thankfully not only was I quite busy this holiday season, spending it with a lovely family surrogate family so the warm fuzzies kept me tethered to the "real" world.  

Fortunately I spent fabulous Christmas surrounded by an exuberant, boisterous, loving family who did exactly that.  I stuffed myself with more food than could possibly be healthy for me, got to hear the Menorah-lighting prayer, Christmas carols, and watch Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas in a theater.  Yes, I would have to say that Christmas at J's takes a firm spot my top five of all time.  That darkness couldn't have sneaked in if it tried this year.  

In a nutshell my antidote to the deadened stillness of the flat affect is mainly to keep moving, active, connected, and always working towards a goal.  Join groups, contribute, because especially now, a sense of community is vital.