Tag Archives: too tired to tag this

One of the problems with PTSD is that you can get yourself into a chain of non-traumatic—sort of—memories that make it more likely to trigger the PTSD. You may not know what those memories are; it could be so subtle you won’t remember the trigger, and then things go to hell, and you won’t know why. And of course, many memories aren’t conscious.

You can learn to watch for danger signs, but sometimes the moment can be yanked from you just like that, without you having even thought consciously about the past; recently that happened to me, resulting in a not terribly nice weekend.

The way I usually cope is to keep myself more or less constantly distracted. Writing ((Somehow it seems counter-productive, in terms of distraction, to write about my PTSD; but perhaps not. I don’t know.)), work, reading, tending my pretend fish on my iPhone and other useful things. Some tasks are more likely to stir memory than others; washing dishes manually, though I really like it, does this for me, and so I end up using the dishwasher quite a lot…

Basically, I’ve learned that thinking can be a minefield of accidental memory traps. It’s easy to accidentally stray and run into the bad memories. But my manner of coping is to constantly displace action, because actually trying to sit and meditate results in stray memories floating in because I’m quite bad at meditating, and then sometimes I get triggered, and then….

Well, it’s a sort of hell I live in when I can’t think constantly about something else totally other than an idling thought process.

Which is why I take Ambien. It knocks me out before the idling thought process gets my head. And sometimes not even then. And probably it’s why I suffer from insomnia; although thinking about my insomnia has led me to realize that a lot of my insomnia can be traced to heightened levels of fight-or-flight response. My father really liked to pick bedtime as a time to terrorize, because my guard was down then. So now my guard naturally picks up when I try to sleep, which is the very very last thing I want to happen….

There are so many dependencies here that it’s hard for me to untangle them. So far I think I’ve covered

- idling thought process leads to subconscious memories
- subconscious memories lead to memories of that hell time
- hell time memories can slip into PTSD
- the length of time between idle to subconscious to hell to PTSD can occur so quickly that it’s hard, or impossible, to “pull back” into the present soon enough to avoid the end of the chain of events
- I suck at pulling back, because it happens too quickly
- distraction keeps my mind from idling and removes the need for failed pull back attempts
- distraction keeps me from practicing meditation
- my sucky meditation leads to idling thought process leading to [see above]
- reflection can lead to conscious memories that lead to hell memories that lead to PTSD; not always, just often
- near bedtime, my guard is raised because of my father’s chosen attack times in the past
- this is a subconscious memory, even an automatic, ingrained reaction at this point
- this reaction is most often controlled by me via Ambien and maybe anti-anxiety pills
- when I can’t take those, the reaction takes place and fight-or-flight feelings/anxiety is produced
- leading to insane amounts of insomnia
- the connection between all of which I’ve made during reflection and the current insomnia
- argh argh ++ Thought Loops Detected ++ Out of Cheese Error. Redo From Start.

I am tired enough now that I think I might be able to go to sleep, although I note that I’m still so tightly wound up that it feels almost impossible to sleep. No anti-anxiety medication can be taken until tonight.

Yeah, it’s been two nights of this. Two nights of hell, but I’ve been through much worse. Of course, it’s not like this is nothing.

Um.

Yeah, try to sleep now.

The crazy thing is that my coworkers, when I explain why I can’t take two nights of oncall in a row, think that I’m slacking. Um. I’m not even sure how to even begin to deal with this, but I suppose I need to talk to my manager tomorrow. Today. Whatever.

I’m tired, because I can’t sleep, and because I can’t take my sleep or anti-anxiety medications due to the demands of the job at current, and because I just about poisoned myself via tannin by too much tea, followed by what feels like near water poisoning from too much herbal tea, followed by eating too much because I wasn’t able to eat with too much water in my stomach all day….

So I’m kind of miserable and awake, but it’s a good time to get through my RSS backlog.

Anways, I ran across this article from Not Rocket Science, one of my favorite blogs:

Amensiacs show that emotions linger long after memories fade:

Feinstein worked with a group of five patients who had a rare condition called anterograde amnesia, the same one that afflicted the protagonist of Memento. All the patients had suffered severe brain damage to both halves of their hippocampus, a part of the brain that’s essential for long-term memory. As a result, they couldn’t form any lasting memories after the point when they sustained their injuries. For the rest of their lives, new facts and experiences are like whispers on a breeze, lingering for moments before vanishing again.

However, it seems that these patients can retain feelings of happiness or sadness long after they’ve forgotten the events that triggered these emotions. Feinstein asked the quintet to watch film clips that either portrayed tragic scenes of loss or death, or comedic scenes of humour and laughter.

There’s more at the link, and all of it interesting (and just long enough for most of us, which is a main feature I like about Not Rocket Science; it’s not news bites, but it’s not full-on articles either, though you do get links to full articles in case you want them).

But basically, the gist is that not only might it be the case that emotions and actual details of memories are stored in different places—no surprise when it comes to the brain, which is extremely complex—but that emotions may be harder to remove than the details; they can linger long after most, even all, detail is lost. So while it may be the case in the future (but not all that soon, everything considered; this is all still very much in the realm of futuristic science fiction) that we could selectively zap memory details, getting at the emotions may not be possible.

Of course, since I have PTSD, when it comes to the idea of memory zapping it usually leaves me thoughtful. They say that all memories should be considered precious, because they define who you are; but at the same time, one of the aspects of PTSD is that you don’t forget memories—details and emotions—that would naturally be forgotten, lost over time. And that some of these details might be what drive you into eventual insanity. (I really dislike it when people make sweeping statements like this, because what’s cherished to you is not what’s cherished to others, especially when they take it under circumstances very different from yours.)

But at the same time, if the details of PTSD memories could be zapped—and they themselves might be more difficult to eradicate at all than for more normal memories—the emotional memories would still be there.

And for PTSD, that’s no good. Emotional flashbacks are still flashbacks; sensory details of post-traumatic memories are just backdrop for the driving emotions of those times that make you crazy. Without those details, if you do remember a full flashback for some reason, and you unfortunately remember partial flashbacks in any case, you won’t remember the situations in which those feelings occurred, so you’re even less able to deal with the feelings—less able to eventually rationalize and incorporate these things. Or something. Whatever. In any case, this just means the PTSD will be as, and maybe in some cases even more, crippling when it “flares” up.

An effective futuristic PTSD brute-force solution, so to speak, would involve removing all vestiges of the memories involved—sensory details and emotional aspects. And whatever else the study of memory turns up.

Until then, there’s EMDR apparently, if your insurance would ever bother to pay for that, and drugs, and talk. At least the last two, and all three if you’re lucky.

For some reason, I feel this can’t be driven in enough—PTSD memories are not memories you grow on. I personally think that once you’re past the situations that involve them, they have no use afterward if they can’t be incorporated as normal memories or be otherwise neutralized. If anything, PTSD memories are surrounded by other, normal memories; they are an unpleasant addition, so it’s not like you’d be zapping all knowledge into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind territory.

Sigh. There are a lot of times when it’s just the emotional edge of PTSD that grabs me. I don’t usually remember the little episodes that involve the senses as well. Sometimes, like during the previous holidays, it’s like being on fire for days on end, endless fear and dread that can fill your mind until there is almost nothing left.

… yeah, I know, rather depressing. My bartender is still on vacation. I hope he returns alive and stuff; I hate having to find a new one.