"I feel like life is a bunch of jump ropes all going at once, and I have to try to jump in without getting hit by any of them..."I just found that quote in a journal I started years ago in an attempt to process the mysterious changes that were taking place in how I experienced the world, long before I recognized the connection between these symptoms and the trauma that brought them. At the time, I was noticing more and more that my mind seemed overactive and I felt overwhelmed by activities that were previously mundane, like shopping. Now I know that I was suffering from hypervigilance.
Hypervigilance belongs to the symptom cluster of hyperarousal, which also includes heightened startle response, difficulty concentrating, irritability, risky behavior, and insomnia. Last night the first three threatened to ruin my evening. (I was already tired and feeling like I was done for the day at 4:00 p.m., but I didn't want to cancel my dinner plans because I am so tired of CPTSD stealing my life. In hindsight, I probably should have because I think the tiredness made me more susceptible to being on edge.)
I was at a loud, crowded restaurant: people bustling around, lots of noise, candles flickering. My brain politely informed me that I was in a safe and enjoyable place, but my body wasn't having it. The environment felt hostile, like everything was conspiring to crush me into the wall and set me on fire and the whole place was yelling at me. My friend ordered for us both because I couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words on the menu. I only began to feel calmer when I tasted a very gingery drink. It seems like that should have overloaded my senses even more, but it actually helped me to focus on that one sensation and block out the others. (The whiskey probably didn't hurt either.)
I'm not afraid of roller coasters, but I absolutely hate them because the one time I went on one, I felt like I was in hell. My body was being thrown around outside of my control and my brain couldn't possibly process everything I was sensing fast enough to be able to anticipate what was coming next or perceive potential threats, and -- worst of all -- there was nothing I could do to stop it. I coped by closing my eyes and trying to imagine I was somewhere else and waited for it to be over. When your body is constantly terrified, you don't need to seek thrills.
There are some high-stimuli situations in which I can be just fine or even have a really good time. For example, I've been to live punk rock and heavy metal shows that were fun, and as a teenager I found moshing to actually be therapeutic. This kind of atmosphere would appear to be much more volatile than a restaurant or shopping mall, but I think what makes stimuli stressful is 1) lack of agency over it and 2) multitasking. A crowded grocery store will stress me out because I'm attempting to simultaneously select my items while avoiding small children with my cart, whereas at a concert with much more intense sights and sounds and movement, I can just enjoy it because that's all I went there for.
No comments:
Post a Comment