Back to the future | A conversation with self: The experience

BLOG SERIES: Back to the future | A conversation with self
#1 - The ‘experience’

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to go back to the future? I’m no Marty McFly (as played by Michael J. Fox, in the 1985 sci-fi classic) but I feel like I have been given an opportunity to rewrite my history in a way that makes all the suffering almost sensible. 

Just over a decade ago I wrote a blog about my Conversion Disorder.  A mental illness that racked my body with 20+ seizures a day and irrevocably stole a few years of my life and those of my loved ones. Through this blog I was therapizing my own pain and suffering so that I could express what was inside my head. Desperate for someone to understand my crippling anxiety.  Desperate to feel heard and seen for what my pain was and desperate for it to end.  Unbeknownst to any effort on my part, within about 9 months I had hundreds of thousands of readers and had been contacted by ABC’s 20/20 for an interview. I declined. I deleted my blog, deleted my youtube, and never looked back. 

Until now. 

The thought that I could be a positive influence or create impact for those feeling so alone had me gripped in fear and I ran from it all. Trauma contained me in fear. It held my self worth hostage and I was scared of exposure.  I wanted to be seen so badly, but being seen was paralyzing.

What I thought was deleted forever upon my healing journey, my mother in her love of my writing, kept every word I wrote.  And now I bring it to you, in hopes that you won’t feel so alone.  

Entry #1 of my conversation with self, the beginning of my Back to the Future adventure. 

(Circa 2011) Hello, welcome to the ride, buckle up, it's a bumpy road and maybe little scary for the inexperienced …

It happens quickly. Like a lightning bolt, but through my chest. I'm calm one second, then a nanosecond later my thoughts are turning ugly and my chest starts to get really tight. My stomach flips and suddenly I'm charged. Like I have little electric men running around in my brain, down my arms to my fingertips and back up to the 'irrational' bubble center of my brain. Bubble says I'm angry. Other than the rare bubble called happiness, it's about the only emotional feeling I have hypersensitivity to other than physical pain and sadness. Anger, sadness and physical pain. Fucking great. And the funny thing is that it's always, and I truly mean ALWAYS focused towards one person. One big guess on who that person is? Yes. My husband.  Is it his fault? ABSOLUTELY NOT! But that doesn't matter to the electric men and my bubble brain. They focus on him, always.  Who else can they focus on? There's no one around me ever, except my son. 

Is it my son's fault that I'm sad or angry? Or that I ever get sad or angry? Nope. Never. He's three. He's my sunlight. He's the killer of the electric men and the bubbles. He stabilizes them with just a look. How the hell does my three year old do that? Why can't I do that? Why can't I stabilize myself?

When it gets to be that I can't control the little electric men, which is often, all I want to do is yell, scream, cry and beat up my pillow or my bed. My anger consists of pulverizing my memory foam bed which doesn't feel good even though it's a mattress, and my pillows until I've dropped flat exhausted and in tears; which is usually  about three minutes later. If I'm beyond pulverization, out come the theatrics. WATCH OUT, my body takes on a mind of its own. My bubbles cease to exist in uniform and become nothing short of miraculous. My brain has a brain and it sucks. When other people shut their brain off, all mine does is reproduce into superhero potion and releases the little electric men into various limbs, nerves and joints. I'm superhuman temporarily. Once the little electric men tire out which, to be honest, is at very random times my bubble brain comes back.

What do I mean by bubble brain? It's like in a cartoon, when you see these characters thinking out of thought bubbles. That's my brain, it's full of thought bubbles at all times. So full sometimes that I cannot discern one bubble from the other. My doctors have called it anxiety. My medication blurs all the rounded lines into squiggles and waves meshing into one another. I call them fucked up. So I guess that's me calling me fucked up. But this we already knew. This isn't a new bubble thought. The bubbles and electric men just reinforce the reasoning behind the statement. I'm pretty fucked up. Did you know that these bubbles in my head have powers beyond any of your imaginations? If you could for one day live behind my eyes, feeling my thoughts, hanging out between my ears, I think it would drive you certifiably insane. Or at least want to make a movie out of it.

So this is your chance. These words are your chance to pull up a chair. You're interested, hmmm, okay, What color will it be? I like green, so we'll go with green. It's an older scruffy green wooden chair, so sorry no cushion for you. If you're going to experience the ‘experience’ you don't get to be comfortable. Otherwise it'll defeat the purpose. That my life isn't comfortable. I can't remember the last time it was, but I'm looking forward to when it happens again! 

Is yours? Comfortable? Calming? Zen? What I wouldn't give. So carrying on, you're sitting in that green chair. Right smack in the middle of my brain positioned between my ears so you can hear inner thoughts and exasperations from the outside world, and behind my eyes so you can see what I see. What I didn't tell you yet is that underneath you is a scale. Be careful, because as soon as you become overwhelmed that scale starts to show the classic 1-10 rate our lovely doctors like to use to describe pain. Oh yes, you get to feel it too, and see it at the same time. Do you think it would hurt less if you couldn't see it? You don't get off that easy. You're in my brain. Unfortunately my brains-brain makes the rules remember, not me. I'm just a participant in this whole mess like you're about to be.

So, are you ready for your experience? Did you read the fine print? There's no signing on the dotted line, but there's always fine print that you forget about. Just because you're in my brain, doesn't mean that the rest of the world doesn't get to judge how you react to the events happening to you. Are they happening to you? Or are they just happening around you? You'll be judged. You'll be forsaken. You'll be able to look through my eyes into the eyes of others and see how uncomfortable you make them. You'll also hear the lies. Or maybe not lies, but the half-truths. Your 'temporary' son, my son, will watch you so make sure you don't black out. If you check out, then who's going to look after him? He's the priority here. That's your responsibility in this experience. Fine print, didn't see that one coming did you? 

Oh, did I forget to mention the sane clause? Okay, so that’s when all of these experiences are happening at once, which is the only way it happens, you need to appear sane on the outside even in the midst of the worst. Are you ready? Can you handle it? Unfortunately this ride is non-refundable due to the fact that we don't know how to make it stop. It'll stop when it stops, so I truly hope you're ready. 

How long will it take? Oh, that I couldn't tell you, so far we've exceeded three years and counting. Fine print, always read the fine print. So hop in! The chair is waiting for you, it seems like a wild ride doesn't it? No. I didn't say fun, I said wild. I think my initial statement was fucked up. tomatoes, tomAHtoes. Any questions? haha Sorry, we can't answer them, you'll just have to deal. Remember, don't overreact, your child is watching you. If you think you're fucked up after this, wait until you see how he turns out. 

Oh, sorry? will it be your fault? Yes. Yeah, of course it’ll be your fault. Who's fault would it be? It's your brain experience, your superhuman strength, your physical pain, your anxiety with little electric men running around every where, your anger and sadness at the state of your life. But also your happiness. If you can find it there. It pops up every once in a while, but there are so many other thought bubbles trying to be the center of attention that happiness tends to get pushed to the back. It's not an emotion that's very demanding like the others. If you want to find Happiness in there you're going to have to look for it at the same time. At the same time meaning literally AT THE SAME TIME as everything else I've mentioned. Oh, you'll also be judged for that too.  Most people don't understand why happiness and that special 'positivity' bubble doesn't make a more regular appearance up front. But they'll get it, eventually. Maybe, maybe not. Not everyone gets to take a seat in the green chair. Personally I think positivity can take a flying leap into a black hole sometimes. Negativity gets more attention anyways right? Isn't that what the experience is all about? Being Negative about life? Yes, I'm asking you the question. This is all about attention isn't it? Getting people to feel sorry for you, to coddle you, to take care of you? No? Oh. Right, I forgot, no one can really take care of you. And in you I mean me. I'm in my early 30’s, I have a child to raise. I have friends to talk to so they remember to talk to me. I have family to reassure that I'm okay, when really I'm not. I have a husband to tend to so he doesn't feel alone in this partnership we have. I have people to educate on the facts of mental illness so that they aren't spouting their mouths off and being ignorant to the FACTS of life. Gawd that's an awful lot to do. And while I'm doing all of this on the outside, I'm having the experience on the inside. OH WAIT, no that's you. I live the experience, you're only getting a sneak peak. 

Well, I wish you well, I can't promise you'll come out of this unscathed. After all, I don't make the rules, my brains-brain does. Enjoy the superhuman strength, be careful though to not to break your own arm - meaning my arm! That happens.  Muscle rigidity at its finest. When it happens be prepared to strain, twist and or break your own arms, fingers, legs, limbs. I should have just said limbs. Concussions will come into play for sure.  But, no big deal.  Oh, I forgot one last bit of info for you, whatever sets off the conversion disorder will ultimately set off everything else in this fucked up body you decided to try out. Not liking that scale too much now are you?  This punishment is brutality at its finest. If this was acted out in a play, this type of punishment would be locked up for life due to unnecessary torture of the body. Yeah it's pretty bad. My pain is punishment down to my toenails. My punishment is pain.  Pain and punishment. And superhuman strength that turns on me trying to break my limbs. I'm not lying, I swear, one day you'll get a message from the hospital that I've broken something, or unwillingly smashed my head into the floor. “Scrapes and bruises, c'mon, just brush it off”

So to sum up the experience for you … 

Oh hell, forget it. You can't take it. I live this life and I can barely take it on a great - upfront happy bubble thought day. I've worn myself out now, my brains-brain is making its way over to the center to take over. That happens. If I use up too much of my energy, it's like my 'privileges' of life get taken away. Like I'm a toddler having a time out for not listening, Or a teenager getting grounded. Then the punishment starts. I don’t think you’d be able to handle it. Be positive, you know? Ah well, c'est la vie, I don't make the rules. I just live them.

Oh shit, here comes the little electric men again. If I'm lucky my son will come around the corner and stabilize those fuckers. How does he do that?

From my healing heart to yours, I send you love and tenderness in your days,
Lea Morrison

Trauma-Informed Coach, Healer & Medical Intuitive
Empowering survivors through trauma-informed regulation and care
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