Adhesion

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I had surgery on my wrist over twenty years ago. A ligament that was putting pressure on the median nerve was severed to allow the electrical signals to travel unimpeded to and from my hand. The surgery was ultimately a success, providing some pain relief and an increase in sensation and function. However, it was not without its side effects. As a result of the cut ligament, my median nerve was exposed and the slightest pressure on the inside of my wrist felt like the sharp ulnar pain of hitting the “funny bone.”

 

Superficial palmar nerves.
Superficial palmar nerves. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I learned to avoid that sensation. I grew protective of my wrist, afraid to flex it too far or expose it to the risk of injury. I babied it, wrapping it in a protective brace whenever it started to hurt or my hand started to numb. Those measures, appropriate in the months after the surgery, were probably too extreme as they continued through the years.

 

But I was conditioned by that point. I was so pain averse with my wrist that I would fall on my face rather than brace myself with my hands. (it’s okay to laugh as you picture the predicaments I ended up in!) The pain avoidance was an overreaction, like someone who suffered a burn from a stove top being afraid to cook, but it was an overreaction that I accepted.

After years of being afraid of pushing the limits of my wrist, the inevitable occurred – scar tissue began to form around the site of the surgery. The self-imposed limited range of motion became enforced by adhesion. This scar tissue replaced the fear of pain with real pain when I tried to move my wrist too far.

I am just now beginning to release that adhesion, to unstick the glues that bind my wrist and hold it tight. It wasn’t an intentional process, rather it snuck up on me (probably the only way it could ever have happened) while on the yoga mat. Through yoga, I have slowly been tearing through the ropey tissue that has hindered my movement. I find that I can flex it further and hold more weight without the pain becoming overwhelming. The release has been physical but also emotional, as I learn not to fear the pain radiating from my wrist. I have learned to trust that the discomfort is temporary and bearable. I don’t have to avoid it.

I used what I learned from my wrist in healing from my divorce. The initial pain of the separation was the sharp pierce of the surgeon’s blade through flesh, leaving tender nerves exposed. At first, I was afraid of the pain. I sought to avoid it by medication and distraction. Lack of flexion in the beginning allowed some adhesion to occur, wrapping me in its bindings and holding me in place. Luckily, I didn’t hold my heart as still as I had my wrist, or the sticking would have been worse, perhaps even permanent. I knew that I had to keep my emotional self moving and fluid so that I did not become stuck. I knew that the pain wasn’t fatal and that it would diminish with time. I could have braced my heart like I had braced my wrist, but then I would still be learning how to let it be free twenty years from now.

I am now more afraid of adhesion than I am of pain.

Trigger Points

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Collage of several of Gray's muscle pictures, ...

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Not surprisingly, most of my triggers have to do with fear of abandonment or betrayal. These are the ones that petrified me in the early months as their intensity would take me back to the moment I learned that my life as I knew what over, curled on the floor in a fetal position around my phone.

As with physical trigger points, emotional ones also improve with time. My trigger points are fewer and further between and the response is somewhat muted.

But time is not enough.

My triggers have the potential to be a source of tension in my current relationship. It’s not unheard of for Brock to commit a level 1 offense on the Relational Transgression Scale (RTS) and for me to respond as though it is a level 10 misdeed. That’s not fair to him or our partnership, nor do I want to respond in that way.

Aware of the potential damaging nature of my triggers, Brock and I agreed early on in our relationship that I would make a concerted effort to neutralize them as much as possible. These are the strategies that I found useful:

Awareness: The first step was for me to become aware of my triggers, especially when the pain and reaction was referred to a different area. I learned that when I reacted strongly to something, it would behoove me to look deeper to see if my response was actually due to something in my past. Often it was.

Avoidance: Avoidance has its place. In the early months, I simply could not handle certain known triggers. I gave them wide berth until I was strong enough to face them.

Preemptive Strike: Now, when I am going to encounter a known trigger, I work to calm myself ahead of time. Some exercise, meditation and a reminder of my gratitude for my current life go a long way to preventing an overreaction.

Layer: I have reclaimed certain triggers by intentionally layering new and happy memories over top. The old pain is still there, but it muffled by smiles.

Plan: I also have backup plans for those times when the triggers do strike. I am better at stepping back. I remind myself to breath. I know that a long run will help to dissipate the pain and allow me to think again.

Trigger points are difficult to treat. If you try to force them to relax, they will grip and the pain will intensify. The mind almost has a fear of letting go of those painful nodules; it seems as though it works to protect them, those memories of our trauma. Be patient and apply gentle, yet persistent pressure at the point of the pain. Breathe into the tightness and give it permission to fade. The past will be there. The pain will never be forgotten. But you do not have to allow it to keep you bound in agony.

Respite

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Photograph of blue sky

Yesterday was a stunning respite from winter. The sky was a subtle cobalt blue, unmarred by even the slightest suggestion of a cloud. The temperature, already reasonable at dawn, climbed into the sixties, bringing with it a warmth that has been absent for months.

I spent the day chasing the sun. I elected to skip my usual yoga class as the thought of two hours contained in a windowless room on such a day seemed like villainy. Instead, after completing my indoor tasks early (which included opening all the windows:) ), I started the day with a run. Okay, actually two runs. I first took Tiger for a hilly three mile loop around the neighborhood. Mr. Pitiful struggles when the mercury climbs above sixty; he was trailing behind on the inclines and kept insisting on watering bushes even once his well had run dry. As a result of his slow pace and frequent pit stops, I ended the run ready for more. I dropped him off at the house and hopped in the car to head down the road to a trail along the river.

The trails were bustling, filled with children taking their Christmas bikes and trikes out for a ride, young couples and runners gearing up for the spring racing season. Even as I cursed the crowds as I had weave in and out and even stop at times, I really do love to see so many people out and exercising and enjoying the day and each other. It is a beautiful thing. I just wish they understood that slower traffic to the right applies to the trails as well…

Another four miles and I was spent (I so do not miss those marathon training distances!!!). I fixed a snack upon arriving home and set myself up on the back deck with a book. As the sun moved across the sky, I moved along with it, eventually ending up in a folding camp chair in the driveway. I am solar powered and I was determined to recharge as much as possible while I had the opportunity. The lows today are back in the 20s and the rain has moved in again, bringing with it the threat of severe weather and flooding.

Yesterday was a gift, a brief exhale of winter that allowed the warm breath of spring to fill tight chests. It was an intermission between inhospitable acts when the layers that guard against the cold could be thrown off without fear.

The winters of our lives often have respites as well. Look for them. Create them. And, when they are there, embrace them. Spend the moments chasing the sun. Allow yourself to open the windows, to feel the warmth, to shed your guards. Breathe. It’s okay to feel okay even when your world is falling apart around you. Give yourself permission to laugh. To be present in the lull between the storms. Try not to think about what the forecast predicts for tomorrow or how frigid it was yesterday. That doesn’t matter today.

A respite doesn’t need to be complicated. It doesn’t need to fill an entire day. My dad and I created our first respite from the storm that came with text message that ended my world mere days later:

“Two for Borat, please,” my dad said to the teen in the movie theater window as he handed over his card.

“Sir, I have to inform you that the movie is especially graphic and may be offensive to some viewers. There are no refunds,” the ticket-taker recited automatically.

My dad and I looked at each other, the first true laughs of the week expelled in staccato bursts.

“Welcome to the South,” I said to him with a grin. Besides, nothing on that movie screen could be more offensive than my reality.

Undeterred by the warning, we proceeded to the theater where we shared more laughs and a much needed respite from the reality outside those doors.

Those two hours were a gift. They provided a much needed break from the horror in my life. It was a chance to breathe. To feel normal. To refuel. To live when I otherwise felt as if I were dying.

After my hours in the sun yesterday, another week filled with cold rain and flooding doesn’t seem so daunting. After all, I still carry a bit of yesterday’s  warmth with me:)

Ever Been Told, “You Shouldn’t Feel That Way?”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You shouldn’t feel that way.

Get over it.

You’re overreacting.

Have you ever heard any of those statements? Those remarks that leave you angry and confused. Hackles up, yet questioning if the other person is right? Why do people make those remarks? Is it out of ignorance or attack? Are they trying to help or harm? How can we respond those who tell us we do not have the right to feel the way we feel?

I work with middle schoolers – a group that is well recognized for being very emotional and reactive. I have seen a girl become suicidal after a dismissive comment by a friend. I have seen a boy with a shattered face after a fight over a mustard packet. To the outside person, those reactions seem well over the top, like calling the fire department to extinguish a candle. I could have pulled those students aside and told them they were overreacting. I could have said that they should get over it. I could have shared stories of others that had it worse to downplay their feelings.

I think we all realize that such an approach would not be helpful. Simply telling the girl that her despair was stupid or the boy that he shouldn’t be angry would do nothing to dial down their emotions. In fact, it would have made the situation worse because then it would be introducing an element of shame, causing them to question if there is something wrong with them for feeling the way they do.

When we respond with ‘shoulds,’ we are responding only to the surface. If someone appears to be overreacting, there is often much more beneath. That was the case with these two students. The girl’s sister had committed suicide the previous summer. She was feeling abandoned and lost. When her friend slighted her, she felt alone and hopeless. The boy’s family had fallen upon hard times. His only meals were through the school. To him, that packet of mustard was life or death.

So why are we so quick to dismiss the feelings of others? Sometimes, it is from a lack of empathy, an inability or refusal to put yourself in another’s shoes. Sometimes, you may have the empathy but you lack the understanding. Maybe you’re missing key information that explains the reaction. Maybe you want to help, but you’re frustrated and don’t now how.

The truth is that we can never know completely how someone else feels. It’s based on past and perception, two things that are unique to each individual. When it seems that someone’s reaction is over the top, maybe it just means that their brain needs time to catch up with the past pains held in the heart. Rather than berate the brain for not moving faster, try supporting the heart while the brain moves forward. All the heart wants is to be accepted.

If you are the recipient of the ‘shoulds,’ try not to internalize the statement. It is okay to feel the way you feel. Try to see the motivation behind the statement – is this person trying to help you or are they simply unable to comprehend your pain? Also be open to the idea that your past and your perceptions may be harming your present. It’s okay to feel the way you feel and it is also okay to not want to feel that way and to work to make it better.

As for my two students, we (teachers and counselors) worked to validate their feelings in the moment while helping them to understand why they reacted the way they did and how they can cope better in the future. Rather than telling them how they should feel from a place of judgement, we showed them how they could feel better by coming from a place of love. And that is how we should all feel.

You Shouldn’t Feel That Way

Posted on by stilllearning2b

sad

You shouldn’t feel that way.

Get over it.

You’re overreacting.

Have you ever heard any of those statements? Those remarks that leave you angry and confused. Hackles up, yet questioning if the other person is right? Why do people make those remarks? Is it out of ignorance or attack? Are they trying to help or harm? How can we respond those who tell us we do not have the right to feel the way we feel?

I work with middle schoolers – a group that is well recognized for being very emotional and reactive. I have seen a girl become suicidal after a dismissive comment by a friend. I have seen a boy with a shattered face after a fight over a mustard packet. To the outside person, those reactions seem well over the top, like calling the fire department to extinguish a candle. I could have pulled those students aside and told them they were overreacting. I could have said that they should get over it. I could have shared stories of others that had it worse to downplay their feelings.

I think we all realize that such an approach would not be helpful. Simply telling the girl that her despair was stupid or the boy that he shouldn’t be angry would do nothing to dial down their emotions. In fact, it would have made the situation worse because then it would be introducing an element of shame, causing them to question if there is something wrong with them for feeling the way they do.

When we respond with ‘shoulds,’ we are responding only to the surface. If someone appears to be overreacting, there is often much more beneath. That was the case with these two students. The girl’s sister had committed suicide the previous summer. She was feeling abandoned and lost. When her friend slighted her, she felt alone and hopeless. The boy’s family had fallen upon hard times. His only meals were through the school. To him, that packet of mustard was life or death.

So why are we so quick to dismiss the feelings of others? Sometimes, it is from a lack of empathy, an inability or refusal to put yourself in another’s shoes. Sometimes, you may have the empathy but you lack the understanding. Maybe you’re missing key information that explains the reaction. Maybe you want to help, but you’re frustrated and don’t now how.

The truth is that we can never know completely how someone else feels. It’s based on past and perception, two things that are unique to each individual. When it seems that someone’s reaction is over the top, maybe it just means that their brain needs time to catch up with the past pains held in the heart. Rather than berate the brain for not moving faster, try supporting the heart while the brain moves forward. All the heart wants is to be accepted.

If you are the recipient of the ‘shoulds,’ try not to internalize the statement. It is okay to feel the way you feel. Try to see the motivation behind the statement – is this person trying to help you or are they simply unable to comprehend your pain? Also be open to the idea that your past and your perceptions may be harming your present. It’s okay to feel the way you feel and it is also okay to not want to feel that way and to work to make it better.

As for my two students, we (teachers and counselors) worked to validate their feelings in the moment while helping them to understand why they reacted the way they did and how they can cope better in the future. Rather than telling them how they should feel from a place of judgement, we showed them how they could feel better by coming from a place of love. And that is how we should all feel.