MY BRAIN SEEMS GOOD, BUT THERE ARE THOSE MOMENTS...
Today (1.6.2022), I had a brain MRI without contrast, the last of my scheduled assessments for the seizure I experienced 5 months ago.
This is the first time I've written about it outside of my journal. The first time I've really even said anything about it outside of my immediate family. (I know that some family will be seeing/reading/hearing about this here for the first time, I thank you for your grace).
Why am I just now writing this/saying something? Because I have been working through it. I have been breathing, stretching, yogaing, meditating, walking, running, chilling, hammocking, mostly not driving, curating a She-Man Woman Cave, and trying to articulate what I mean by the charge.
For the last 5 months, I have deliberately recalled what happened in more detail. Tracking the events leading up to the incident, figuring out what I could have done differently, and what I can do now. I have also had to face the fear in my family's eyes when I delay, stutter, or say something that makes perfect sense to me. Something, I think, is delivered clearly, but is received unclearly, nonsensically, or as gibberish.
Why now? Because no doctor has been able to figure out the how or why. And I have a narrative all my own.
The short version of the story goes... After moving back to California, being here almost a month, and during training to add Registered Behavior Technician to my scroll that is my resume, my brain short-circuited. I've been CT scanned (no pun intended, IYKYK). I've had a sleep-deprived EEG. I take a prescription twice a day to reduce the likelihood of it happening again.
A little more of the story that I've shared privately until now: Saying my brain short-circuited is what makes the most sense to me. I ran around doing the most (as was my pattern) the day it happened. All of a sudden, the energy in my body and brain surged, my body tightened, and my brain shut down. That incident felt like it rewired my brain.
Now I sometimes feel things more deeply, emotionally and physically. Other times I feel like I'm moving in slow motion or the world is moving in timelapse. My intellectual mind feels youthful, vibrant, and intelligent (like I'm as bright as when an IQ test said I was a genius).
On the other side, my family is still fearful when I space out. While I am hyper-aware of what spacing out means, I can never seem to bring a strong definition back with me. I cannot laugh too hard without feeling the charge amping and a surge coming on. The family sees it; I see their fear surge.
The charge, I've decided, is the current(s) of energy running through me at any time that carries information, feelings, sensory awareness, and emotions. When it becomes too much, it overloads my brain, and that causes a short circuit. Understanding it this way has helped me embrace what I like to call The Year of the Slowdown.
Now, I do not get up and do the most (most of the time). Instead, I get up and do my ritual of daily nourishing practices and hella Integrative Wellness stuff that I've researched and even customized for myself. It also means that though I love laughing until the tears come streaming down my face, my favorite, I have to stop, breathe, and slow down.
Yes, it sucks a little. However, the alternative is worse. Additionally, as I previously stated, I feel like my brain has expanded, and I like that. So, I continue to move slowly and steadily... That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
You don't have to wait until your brain, body, mind, or heart overloads to choose to move more slowly and intentionally.
"Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you."
Wanna talk? Have questions? Wanna know where you can get some tools for your box, kit, bag, or whatever you call it… Hit me up at [email protected].