My TV died a couple of weeks ago. I can hear sound, change channels, change input, but cannot see a picture. I rely on the wifi hotspot from the cable company across the street, but haven't been able to get a signal strong enough to connect to the internet for streaming. When these things happened, I was pretty upset. Today, I'm actually quite grateful because I'm not able to watch Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testify on Capitol Hill.
Oh, I support her. I believe her. I respect the hell out of her. I remember the one investigative interrogation I had to sit through when my store director had twice put his hand on my knee during a car ride. That was hard and humiliating enough. I cannot imagine having to sit in front of such a hostile crowd of people whose temporary job it is to represent the best interests of the country like she is today. And that she volunteered for it, put her life on hold, put her life in jeopardy to do it...yeah, I respect the ever living HELL out of her for this.
Even for the technology I can't access right now, my smart phone still keeps me connected to the world. I catch snippets of what's been going on. I can piece together the fabric of this ugly, tattered cloak of shamefulness, and while I can refuse to wear it, sometimes I accidentally touch the hem and get soiled in the process. I often joke about understanding the Unabomber's manifesto and the need for it, but I'm a fairly social creature so I wouldn't do well living in a shack in the wilderness without a cell signal or regular access to other humans. (Yes, in that order.) It's important to interact with people, even ones I don't always agree with, especially ones I don't agree with. Echo chambers annoy me.
Now that I'm 50, I realize the importance of trying to keep as healthy as possible. This is not an easy task when one has a body with a dysfunctional autonomic nervous system. I do the best I can, and one of the best things I can do is to know my triggers. The second best thing is to avoid those triggers whenever possible because they can bring on an episode.
My episodes primarily manifest as fainting. May marked 35 years of having at least one episode a year. I called it a good year if I only passed out once. It's been at least 8 years since I've had a good year with my Dysautonomia. It's been 5 years since I've been able to work. Fainting is no fun, but ever since I started, I've been accused of doing it for attention.
Let me repeat: fainting is no fun. Your body hits a reset button which temporarily shuts your system down. For some people with Dysautonomia that means they flat line for a few seconds; their heart just.stops.beating. I'm one of the lucky ones because my blood pressure just tanks, but my heart goes on beating. My pulse has always been difficult to find. In 6th grade, one of my friends told me I was purposely hiding my pulse to try to flunk her in our health class. She was a classic Type A personality. The paramedic stepped in to make sure she was doing it right, and he laughed as he told her that he'd known me my whole life and knew I could be difficult about some things, but that my pulse was very hard to detect even for a pro. There have been times when my BP was so low it could not be detected. Imagine your computer doing a reset. The newer models tend to come back up faster, whereas the older models wheeze and gasp their way back up to functionality, not up to speed, though. So basically my Autonomic Nervous System runs on Windows 4. Bottom line, recovery from an episode takes longer and my functionality is never going to be what it was when I was fifteen, or even what it was when I was forty.
So, if you've read my previous blog posts, you know I've been through a bit of sexual trauma in my life. Only one rape, but other sexual assaults, and countless instances of sexual harassment and discrimination because it's just par for the course of being female, am I right, ladies? No big.
Except Dysautonomia keeps my body in a constant state of "fight/flight/freeze". Any woman, any person who has been in a situation where they credibly fear for their life or safety knows how that taxes the body. Mentally taxing activities also impact the body. Fright is exhausting, and trying to talk your body down doesn't always work. I get tachycardia scooping the litter box, so that becomes a weary task sometimes. My brain and heart get their signals crossed and they resolve their differences by retreating to their separate corners and doing a reboot to get back on line.
Reliving trauma also brings on tachycardia. Listening to others relive their trauma reminds me of my own. These are triggers that could possibly bring on one of those fun fainting episodes I totally do for attention. Except, I live alone, don't own a car, and don't get out much anymore. So I'm the only witness to the frivolity other than my cat, and he couldn't care less unless it means his food is delayed.
I have other triggers for my Dysautonomia. Heat, humidity, and my period are the biggest. My body also throws a tantrum when it encounters temperature extremes so I have to be careful about avoiding cold, too, but heat is the bigger problem. I seek air conditioning. I keep my feet up to avoid blood pooling. And right now, I have a dysfunctional television set to go with my dysfunctional ANS. That helps.
Sometimes, I am simply unable to circumvent the things that cause an episode. I can only guess that the constant influx of information regarding Brett Kavanaugh, Bill Cosby, the various women with credible accusations and the accompanying refutations finally caught up with me last night because my blood pressure tanked on me twice while I slept. I know this because I had two fainting dreams. I've been operating in a whirling fog, still in my pajamas because I'm saving my energy for a hair appointment and getting my grocery shopping done.
My heart is with Dr. Ford today. I literally could not do what she is doing. I'd like to think that if one of my attackers was nominated to the Supreme Court, that I would do what she is doing because of the importance of the issue. But I know I would very likely pass out, and that would be seen as weakness rather than strength being depleted. I wasn't believed for sixteen years that there was something wrong and that was why I fainted so much. I wasn't believed that my store director twice put his hand on me. I am tired of not being believed. So God bless the women who are demanding to be heard. God bless the ones who have been quiet but can no longer keep their silence because they know there is a greater cause that needs their voice, quivering and small though it may be. Even though I lie on my couch, I'm standing with you.
