Although it might not seem like it to some of you, I actually find myself hesitating before writing about PTSD. Part of this hesitancy comes from worrying that I come across as living in a perpetual state of anxiety/terror. This is not the case. And I’m happy to report that the older I get it seems the less of a death grip PTSD has on my mind. Oh there are still moments when I get triggered and snap and then need several days alone while the cortisol and adrenaline wind their way out of my system. But I’m happy to report that these events are far fewer and much further apart than they once were.
I have two main goals in continuing to tackle the topic. One is the hope of educating others—those of you who struggle with PTSD firsthand and those of you who love someone with this debilitating condition. The other is to keep educating myself, to continue to find ways to better cope with a badly wired brain that has, many times, tried to convince me that sticking around is not worth it.
A couple of weeks ago at the museum I had an especially synchronous day. Describing it necessitates once again visiting the topic of Christmas trees—that’s twice in three weeks now and not at all like me, but here we go.
My boss asked me if I would go with her to pick out trees for both Brush Square Museums. I like to think this was mainly because I am wildly entertaining company. Also, probably, the request had something to do with the fact I’m the only employee with a pickup truck. My boss and I both struggle with the holidays and so we vowed to be supportive of each other in this task of gathering seasonal accoutrement .
We got through the purchase pretty well. Back at the museums I unloaded the truck and dragged one of the big trees over to the O. Henry Museum. I told myself I could decorate it without emotional attachment, that I would not allow myself to be triggered by memories of my “father” yelling at me about what a shitty tree decorator I was as he lay on the couch in his boxer shorts and wife beater. I could not stave off the memory itself, but as it floated in—which happens anytime I’m within a hundred yards of a Christmas tree—I worked to observe my feelings rather than give into them.
Wonderfully enough, after I finished the tree, I read about a very promising PTSD study. I take all research, especially early research, with a shaker of salt, knowing that it might be debunked eventually. Still, what I read made me weepy and hopeful.
The gist of the study indicates that people who have PTSD experience certain memories very differently than people who do not have PTSD. So, for example, a non-PTSD person might recall something terrible that happened and think, “Well that sucked.” Whereas a person with PTSD would react very differently, possibly have a panic attack, and relive the event as if it were still happening.
Brain scans suggest that this is due to how our brains file these events. When a non-PTSD person recalls trauma, one part of their brain lights up. When a PTSD person recalls a trauma, an entirely different part of the brain lights up. The hope is that with this knowledge, those of us with PTSD might train ourselves to file things correctly. Here’s a quote from the article:
The brain scans found clear differences… The people listening to the sad memories, which often involved the death of a family member, showed consistently high engagement of the hippocampus, part of the brain that organizes and contextualizes memories.
When the same people listened to their traumatic memories — of sexual assaults, fires, school shootings and terrorist attacks — the hippocampus was not involved.
“What it tells us is that the brain is in a different state in the two memories,” said Daniela Schiller, a neuroscientist at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai and one of the authors of the study. She noted that therapies for PTSD often sought to help people organize their memory so they can view it as distant from the present.
“Now we find something that potentially can explain it in the brain,” she said. “The brain doesn’t look like it’s in a state of memory; it looks like it is a state of present experience.”
The metaphor that comes to me as I consider this study involves the Proper Placement of Ice Cube Trays. When I am seized by a PTSD episode and overtaken by a traumatic memory, it’s like putting an ice cube tray in a piping hot oven. The only result in either situation is a guaranteed meltdown. Something I’ve been working on for a long time, a goal that is bolstered by this new study, is learning to put the ice cube tray/traumatic memory in its correct location. This won’t keep me from having the memories but it might help me to stop having severe reactions to remembered trauma and instead understand on a cellular level that the past is the past.
Also wonderfully enough, on the same day that I decorated the museum tree and read the article, my coworker Toro took one look at my work and, with no fishing on my part, announced loudly and enthusiastically, “You did a GREAT JOB on the tree.”
I could barely choke out my thanks to him. His words allowed my mind to stay in the present, in the beautiful little old house where we work, where I am always safe and happy instead of traveling back to that long ago house where I did not feel safe a single day of my childhood. His words also offered me a new memory to go to in the future when some task tries to suck me into the vortex of ancient childhood trauma. I imagine my mind having a conversation with itself then, the still damaged part trying to convince the slowly healing part to conjure up all the terrifying ghosts of Christmases past. It is my hope then, that the healing part will gently acknowledge the still damaged part, explain we are no longer playing that game, and how about instead we remember that time Toro said those magic words.
You did a GREAT JOB on the tree.
And so I had.
NOTES:
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Birthday Show at Hyde Park Theatre There are a handful of tickets left for my birthday show. January 7, 2024, Hyde Park Theatre, 3 pm - 5:30 pm. $25. I’ll be joined by several incredibly talented performers including Pedal Steel Noah, a 15 year old pedal steel genius and his little brother Nate on Bass. Click This Link to Buy Tickets. If it’s sold out, hit me up if you want to be on the waiting list.
Free Writing Workshops at Hampton Branch Library Woohoo! My 2023 writing workshops went very well and my contract has been extended. We’ll meet the first and third Tuesday of each month from 5:30 - 7:30. It is totally free, no strings but it helps a lot if you register. You can click this link to register.
Memoir Writing Workshops for Ladies These six-week writing workshop series will resume in late January 2024. You can email me if you want some details.
I just finished reading the book Positive Intelligence today and it is truly excellent -- serendipitously, the final pages described exactly what you're describing here about the two different ways the brain files memories/experiences, i.e. with and without the hippocampus. The author notes that therapy is often tasked with digging around to find the childhood/developmental reasons for mis-filed memories, but that sometimes this isn't possible because they were so formative or so buried, and luckily unearthing their causes actually has no bearing on whether we can heal from them. (The whole book is about ways to rewire our own brains through a combination of mindfulness and self-compassion -- it's good stuff.)
You are doing great, day in and day out! xoxoxoxo