I am writing this in the wee hours of the morning because I am dealing with several side effects of attending an event that set me back. It’s not that I went into the event unaware and was blindsided. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I knew I would not emerge unscathed.
The fact that I am writing this when I would otherwise be sound asleep speaks to one of the side effects. For the past 3 weeks or more, as I have been doing some serious physical training, I have had no interrupted sleep. That is by far the longest stretch in over two years of finding quality sleep.
The past few hours have been different. My dreams have been wild. My dreams seemed just a bit too real, not being able to discern dream from reality. My dreams have been unsettling and upsetting. And right now I am wide awake because I can’t get back to sleep.
What got me into this
For one day I had put aside the intentional planning that my occupational therapist has been drilling into me for the past year. I did not work out a back up plan, unless retreating to a quiet place qualifies as a back up plan.
And yet, as I look back on the evening, I realize I have developed some habits that protect me from sensory overload and succumbing to extreme neural fatigue. I know to seat myself in an auditorium so that I can make an inconspicuous exit. Exiting from a venue that seems to cause disruption, perceived or real, adds significantly to my sensory loading and therefore my recovery time.
My decision to attend the event was a calculated decision based on an anticipated Cost/Benefit consideration. That’s why I am not surprised to come away from the event feeling content despite having my day, or rather night, significantly interrupted. I chose to attend a 50th anniversary celebration of an institution that I have been well connected with for 30 or more years. The sense of contentment in the middle of dealing with disruption comes from the affirmations that I serendipitously received in the course of the evening. At the same time, the sense of contentment comes from hearing from different people and how they are doing.
Modifications I find helpful
Large groups wear me done. With larger groups the negative effect is exponentially greater. The level of noise is a minor factor yet becomes significant over the course of a couple hours. More significant is the processing of too many sensory impressions in a short block of time; following conversations, reading body language, interpreting tone of voice, looking for segways into a conversation, and managing the emotions of the moment.
By seeking out quieter places, places with fewer people, I found myself engaged in one-on-one conversations and avoiding the complexity of small groups. By keeping myself visible in the quieter areas, people I know and have worked with ended up finding me and so I didn’t feel isolated.
Being in a banquet hall with 6 people at my table and another 300 guests in the hall is quickly overwhelming. I intentionally engaged with only the two guests on either side of me rather than the whole group at my table. The second modification that I made was to arrange with one of the guests at my table to text me at certain junctures in the event. So after some initial introductions I left the hall for awhile and re-emerged from time to time to catch the key elements of the evening.
A big part of managing my ABI symptoms has to do with managing my expectations when I attend an event that I know will likely set me back. That’s where the Cost/Benefit plays a significant role. It might seem a bit selfish, but if the event won’t give me a boost then the negative after effects become a burden, threatening to cause a downward spiral that is clearly counter productive.
The event has left me with many wonderful memories. By keeping my expectations low, yet allowing myself a certain level of vulnerability, wonderful experiences did emerge. I can recount many wonderful moments but let me share a couple of notables.
I had one mother of a former student share a number of experiences with me. The one she was most eager to share was how her daughter missed the whole first week of school. She was too nervous to bring herself to accept me as her teacher. In the end she decided that I had been her most inspiring teacher. I recounted with the mother her daughter’s strengths (from 15 years ago) and was not surprised to hear what activities she is presently doing.
After sharing briefly with one former colleague he offered to pray over me, to request healing. To me it spoke to his strength of character and his sense of ministry. And so there were a variety of different kinds of sharing throughout the evening that left me encouraged, hopeful and with a sense of being surrounded by people who care and seek to be supportive.
It might take a day or two to recover but after an event like last night it is not a discouraging or frustrating walk. The power of prayer, the power of living in community with arms reaching out, takes down the walls of isolation that an acquired brain injury easily creates.
And now, I’m ready to sleep some more. I need to be ready to do a short presentation in the morning – part of measured planning albeit, this one has a back up plan.