Does faking wellness in an attempt to be well, work?

BLOG SERIES: Back to the future | A conversation with self
#2 - Does faking wellness in an attempt to be well, work?

Does faking wellness in an attempt to be well, work? In short, no. Quite the opposite.

Trauma can keep you in a loop of your past. You can be happily moving along minding your own business at the age of 31, when your 10 year old self peeks her head out in an attempt to control your behaviour and you have no idea this is even happening. This is how/why we people please, run and hide when uncomfortable, or over extend ourselves in certain situations. Which was definitley the process narrated below. I over-extended myself while simultaneously wanting to hide under the bed and have someone sit beside me so I didn’t feel so alone. I wanted everyone to take care of me, while leaving me alone, yet begging for love, but don’t touch me, please go away, but please stay, don’t look at me, but please witness my pain, but don’t pity me, but please have compassion, I feel so lonely in this, I hate myself, do you like me? I hope you like me.

It’s an exhausting loop of confusion based in emotional injury. Hamster wheel with no end in sight.

The pain of the Conversion Disorder episodes & Psycogenic seizures alongside the embarassment of causing a scene and the inability to communicate effectively was primed and ready for catastrophic repercussions. On this particular night in 2011, I was attending a friend’s wedding. I was SO excited to get dressed up and go out like a functioning adult. My mom was in town watching our son, we got a hotel for the night so we could sleep uniterrupted afterwards, and all preparations had been taken to ensure I would be successful in my attempt to pretend being normal. (whatever the hell that means) Or so I thought.

Here’s the catch though, in an attempt to resist my current reality, diagnosis and all that came with it, I ultimately set myself up to fail this evening. Trauma requires safety and co-regulation. I was entering a night where I was desperate to prove to everyone I was okay and that I could do ‘out and about’ things and be fine. The episodes were stretching out by that time and I was on occasion, moving through weeks without so much as a tremor. But this was different. It was a wedding, and there would be no where to run and hide. No vehicle, no private bathroom, no sensory reduced rooms, no comfortable clothing and no one safe to lean into where I didn’t feel shame for ruining their night. The pressure to party like it was 1999 as requested by my friends, and equally keep my symptoms and seizures at bay created tension before I even got there.

It was undeniably a recipe for disaster.

(Circa 2011) Lesson learned, punishment successful.

I can hear the band playing in my head. Boom boom, boom boom….flutter flutter flutter… boom boom, boom boom … flutter flutter flutter. I’m overwhelmed, my body is telling me that for sure. My little electric men have some company in the form of butterflies and drum beats coming out of my heart area. Anxiety it’s called; a panic attack? So I have the beat down, where are the words that go with it, little electric men? You’re running around in there like you’re ready for a marathon yet nothing is happening except some geared up tunes and a starting line that is fuzzy. The butterflies are fluttering around waiting for the gun to go off to start the race, the beat is booming, my men are ready.

Leg kicks in, toes start to spread and it hurts like a bitch, but it’s just the beginning. My head is starting to shake and things are heating up in here. Should I try to talk or just wait it out? Fuzziness is taking over so I don’t think I’d be able to talk even if I wanted to. I’m trying to listen to my friend, but I have to go. Ugh, I’m going to vomit. Okay legs MOVE MOVE MOVE - BATHROOM - MOVE MOVE MOVE - target destination in place, now MOVE IT! Legs are moving not effectively so I stumble a bit. I’m moving though and into the bathroom I make it! (phew) Nausea is gone but the fluttering is getting faster. Butterflies will you do me a favour and calm down? I’m at a wedding for goodness sakes, this is not a good place to act up. Little electric men, just promise me if you have to run, if you HAVE to run, keep it in my legs and arms only - nothing extreme - I’m in a public washroom. I’m in view of the door. I can see who sees me. I don’t want to be in the green chair right now, just take me out of here I’m so embarrassed. Take me out of here I don’t want to ruin my friend’s time.

Oh shit. Take me out of here I’m attracting a strangers eye. She’s about to talk to me. God help me. Please god? Seriously can you help me?
stranger: Are you okay?
me: Speak Lea, damnit speak! Yes, yes I’m fine. Whew.
stranger: Are you sure, do you want me to get one of your friends from outside?
me: NO, no no really, I’m fine. I have a neurological disorder, my body does this sometimes. I swear I’m fine. If I needed help, believe me I would enlist you for help. I smile as big as I can.
stranger: Okay, I just don’t feel right leaving you. (She does look very concerned, yet slightly drunk too)
me: I’d be better if you did, my disorder is slightly embarrassing.
stranger: Oh GOD, don’t be!!! I just want to make sure you’re okay.
me: That’s kind of you, but no really, I’m fine. Please leave. Please leave. Please leave. I nod my head for her to go, please just GO! I’m about to pass out from holding it all in. I’m not going to be able to hold back these electric men for much longer. If she would just leave I could breathe and be done with it (hopefully).
stranger: Okay, well if you need anything…
me: again, thank you, you’re very kind.
I smile at her my biggest I’m fine! smile I could muster. That did the trick, she’s getting up now. She’s walking away. The bathroom is now empty. Okay men, listen up. I’m going to breathe you right back into my brain and you’re going to leave me alone! This night is too important to my friends to make a scene. We’ve been doing well up until now, just another hour then we’ll be at the hotel and all will be good. Just one more hour. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

My friend walks in and looks at me like the moon just fell from the sky. Utter disappointment and concern are written all over her face.
Friend #1 Oh no Lea, how long have you been in here?
Me: Really, I’m fine, Not long. I thought I was going to be sick, but I guess I just pushed myself too hard. All that standing and dancing I’m not used to! So much fun tonight! I plaster a strained smile in an attempt to convince her.
Blackness: Aaaand I’m out. fainted perhaps? Not a seizure, I’m sure. She said I was out only for a minute or maybe more, she’s quite drunk too. All I know is that this first pass out will be one of seven or eight in the span of the next 30-45 minutes.

I attract a crowd of concerned friends to my utter embarassment and sometimes I can hear them, sometimes I can’t. Recalling now what happened, all I can remember is some form of Charlie brown talk (wot wot, wot). They keep touching me. Someone is rubbing my back and I feel my face and neck flexing from the conversion episode. Dammit my neck is going to really hurt tomorrow. Can someone tell whoever is touching me not to touch me? Can anyone hear me? Am I even speaking outloud? Can you all just leave me alone, don’t you know you’re making it worse?

At somepoint, my husband comes and leads me outside away from being a spectacle. I am so embarassed, I want to hide underneath his arm, but I can feel his irritation. I can hear him thinking, Can’t we just have one night? I have a jacket over my shoulders and my teeth are chattering along with the rest of my quivering limbs. My hands are hurting, my toes feel like they’re trying to break out of my shoes. If they were any stronger I’m sure I would hear a POP and my pinkie would peek out. I’m so tired, my body hurts. I hate this so much.

We’re in the car now and I can hear my friend and her husband chattering away in the front seat about directions. Gawd I feel awful. I’m so embarrassed. How am I going to make this up to them? I logically know I don’t have to make anything up to anyone, this is just my disorder, I can’t help it. Emotionally though? I hate myself. I’m so mad at myself for pushing it. I am punished by my own body, by my brains brain, for trying to have fun. I danced for the first time in four years though! I actually moved my hips and danced. I had to sit after for a minute but I did it!! I took pictures, I laughed, I talked, I even drank a little wine. I did have a lot of fun, so WHY why why why brains brain, do you punish me so?

It is what it is. Another reminder that I have no control. I prepared myself for the worst yet expected the best and the worst still happened letting everyone down, even though I prepared. How does that make sense? Maybe because I almost made it. I was an hour short ending the evening. I almost made it to the finish line. But almost isn’t what everyone wanted. They wanted it all. What they wanted, and what they got are not the same thing. I’m sure the healthy ones reading this are saying, but be happy with the time you did have! Believe me, I am. Did you read above? I had fun. I danced. I took pictures. I drank wine. But I guess we’re all harder on ourselves than we are on each other aren’t we?

I titled this blog post back then Lesson learned, punishment successful; and honestly it just breaks my darn heart. We live in a society that demands faking well in an attempt to be well along with the assumption that if you are UNwell then you must be faking it for attention. This further encourages disconnection and embodied injury. The cyclical and self abusive journey that goes along with not asking for help and feeling embarassed or shamed when one does, is what is keeping us separated and alone in our suffering.

Don’t make people uncomfortable.
Don’t ask for help, it’s weak.
Pretend like everything’s okay.
Don’t air the dirty laundry.
Suffer alone.
Fake it, fake it, fake it.

This is a total b.s. societal norm and it requires immediate effective attention. This is why the worldwide burn-out rate is so high and 1 in 5 people are struggling with mental illness. This version of me was so scared and full of shame that in attempt to live up to others expectations of wellness, I put myself in harms way. Desperate to be loved and equally terrified to be seen, the inner conflict from unhealed developmental trauma created this idea that I had to be what people wanted me to be without the aquired tools of wellness. What I needed was safety and support to leave at anytime, or stay home without fearing I would disappoint anyone, including myself. A lesson that I learned that night, but not as a signal of punishment as I saw it back then, but one of self regard, self respect, and compassion for the current events of life.

I love this 2011 version of me so very deeply and share these posts in an attempt to help others see and possibly recognize their own inner dialogue that happens. She taught me so much about myself, but most especially, that we are not alone in this world. The shame or embarassment of requiring mental health support is deserving of compassion and love. The story that I have lived, that we all live, can either direct us towards a deeper sense of self with gentle healing, or it can limit us within the confines of traumatic harm. Today, and everday I choose gentle healing, as I hope you do as well.

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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