Plan for Disaster…

20180124_175700I’ve endured five flights with smooth take offs and well executed landings while in ABI (acquired brain injury) mode. On flight number six I crashed. Don’t know what hit me. Take off didn’t go well and landing was a disaster.

I took my first  plane flight in ABI mode to the Caribbean a year ago. It was a test flight to see how I would fare. This was on recommendation of my OT (occupational therapist) who many times during my rehab would ask me, “Have you done …. since your accident?” If the answer was a no then we would outline the possible and probable challenges. With that information and likely projection we would work out a plan that would hopefully ensure a high degree of success.

I recently arrived back from a holiday in the Caribbean. The flight down (number 5 in ABI mode) was routine like the four before it. It had me wondering more than once why some much planning had gone into flight number 1.

Reflections of my most recent flight

Time and again I have been reminded to plan for the worst case scenario. Plan for the worst but hope for the best. When scheduling events and activities, my default mode should be to plan only the number of activities I can manage if all of them ended up in ‘worst case mode’.

As I reflect back on the most recent plane flight, planning for the worst has taken on a new dimension. The bus trip between the airport and the resort had taken longer than the previous time. Not much to do about that. With the recent rains many of the washouts had only been partly repaired making the trip much slower, longer and rougher than expected.

The initial arrival at the airport seemed to go fine. Once we had shed our checked luggage we prepared to go through customs. With the lineup being exceedingly slow, the stairway steep and the area hot and stuffy, I decided instead to go outside, get some fresh air and enjoy the quiet surroundings. (With only two international flights a week, the area outside the airport is a very calm place.)

After about 45 minutes I figured my traveling partner was near the front of the line, ready for customs inspections. I made my way back into the airport and excused myself as I pushed passed the waiting passengers. It was hard to do that unobtrusively as the waiting passengers tend to fill up the whole width of the stairway. Fortunately no one seemed visibly annoyed at having me weave past them. The visa procedure went off without a hitch. The customs inspection not so.

I was asked to remove my water bottle from my carry on luggage. I politely informed the inspector that I didn’t have a bottle. The second time I was ordered to open my luggage. Oops, there was the water bottle. Long forgotten. Fortunately there were no repercussions to my polite challenge.

After completing the customs inspection I was now confined to the hot, crowded and noisy waiting room on the second floor of the airport. The air conditioner was better at adding to the noise than at cooling the air. Waiting for 45 minutes in this space was too much for me. I was overwhelmed and went into sensory overload.

During the four hour plane flight I was alert and somewhat on edge. Unlike the previous five flights, I did not sleep one wink. By the time we landed I was overwhelmed and incapacitated due to a much more severe bout of sensory overload. I stayed in my seat for the next 20 minutes trying to pull myself together. Eventually, with the plane almost empty I felt compelled to exit. I didn’t want to have to deal with the extra attention that would accompany being helped off the plane.

The walk to the exit of the plane was slow and laboured, seeming to take forever. However, getting off the plane was minor compared to making my way to customs and the luggage retrieval area. My progress was slow and laboured as I shuffled along as best as I could manage.

I looked around for a courtesy shuttle but there were none in sight. The passengers who were being given wheel chair assistance seemed much more in need than me. And so, I continued to shuffle my way down the long corridors, thankful for a couple escalators and one moving sidewalk. While an escalator can be helpful, when I’m dealing with too much sensory loading, they can be tricky to get on and off since my balance and coordination are seriously compromised.

Reviewing my most recent flight

In working with an OT for the past 24 months, she has trained me to become my own detective. In looking back on the trip I have not been able to determine what factors caused my most recent flight to be so difficult. Also, I didn’t have the option to change my course of action during the 12 hours it took from leaving the resort by bus and arriving at home.

However, what I can change is to plan for a worst case scenario for my next flight. Having had five successful flights I figured I had seen the worst case, which was far from disastrous, while flying and have found it to be  very manageable. So, no additional thought or planning had been considered in my most recent flight.

The most recent trip made me realize that I need to find as many ways as possible to reduce my sensory loading. The less familiar the surroundings and procedures the harder it is to make contingency plans. At the same time, the less familiar the surrounds and the procedures, the greater the risk of experiencing sensory overload.

New travel plans to consider

To reduce my risk of sensory overload I will make plans that look like I’m being pampered with first class service. I need to request preferential treatment whenever possible. In going through the departure procedures, making arrangements for VIP privileges should help. (Maybe that’s why politicians look great after a long flight.) This could include a separate lounge, ostensibly with better air conditioning and hopefully much quieter.

I don’t plan to request preferential seating in the plane because I don’t know whether that would make any difference. Though requesting a window seat is less disruptive. That avoids having to deal with other passengers who might want to get in and out of their seat during the flight.

I would arrange for a courtesy shuttle if I’m in a large airport. That would limit the amount of walking as well as the distance I need to carry my luggage.

Misgivings

I’m not sure how convinced I am about requesting preferential treatment. I would feel odd getting special consideration if I don’t need it. Besides with the odds being that low, one in six, why make a fuss.

My daughter told me that such thinking is nonsense. Her advice is to plan for the VIP treatment and then just enjoy them, whether they are essential on that trip or not. Besides no one knows why I’m getting VIP treatment. For all they know, I’ve paid for it because I’m one of those hoity toity travelers that feels entitled to receiving first class treatment all the way

Really. Why should I care what others think. I just need to tell myself, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” The goal is to arrive at my destination in fine form.

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Embracing Nature’s Soundscapes

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Peter’s Woods near Centreton, Ontario

Time and again I’m struck by the overlap between autism as it manifests itself and ABI (acquired brain injury). Often I can relate to the coping mechanisms that autistic people choose in order to get through the day or deal with a particular environment. One of the coping activities I read about recently is the choice to go non-verbal.

When I am in a social setting I might be verbally engaged for ten or fifteen minutes. When things get too busy, when the conversation wanders and requires more effort on my part I will experience a level of neural fatigue. At that point I will often choose to go non-verbal. I am still engaged with the conversation, but I will begin to conserve my energy and respond by nodding or raising an eyebrow or some other non-verbal cues. Should my neural fatigue increase I will look for an inconspicuous way to exit from the space.

Social interaction requires varying degrees of cognitive functioning. Over time the cognitive demands will create a level of neural fatigue that I need to address. The sooner I acknowledge the neural fatigue and address it the shorter my recovery time will be.

Recovery spaces

When I’m in a social environment and have reached my limit I need a space that will help me recover. Napping is usually the least helpful option, though spending time in a quiet room is sometimes the best that’s available.

Indoor sounds tend to have an echo or reverberation. The reverberation that most people don’t seem to notice, makes it hard for my brain to relax. Attempts to block out sounds and impressions puts additional demands on my brain.

When I’m outdoors there are so many sounds at a variety of decibel levels. However, it isn’t the decibel level that stands out, but rather the way different sounds flow together. Sounds are somewhat muted in their own ways.

Being outdoors in itself isn’t enough. It’s most beneficial to be away from intrusive mechanical sounds. Mechanical sounds such as commuter traffic, heavy truck, gas powered lawnmowers are jarring. The noise level varies greatly and can be unpredictable and startling.

Being outdoors in a natural environment is the most helpful for recovery. The natural sounds tend to be more mellow than mechanical sounds. However, the call of a crow or a blue jay can be quite raucous. While a heavy truck might create a jarring sound, a screeching brake or an engine backfiring, a crow or a blue jay might initially be raucous, but the follow up sounds as they begin to fade have a predictable pattern.

Sounds in a natual setting can better be compared to a symphony. The sounds have a gentleness to them, they have sense of belonging in that space. It’s the gentleness and predictablity of the sound that allows my brain to relax, to recover from some of the fatigue.

Sounds in nature are somewhat predictable. Each habitat, made up of a certain mix of wildlife, has its own symphony of sounds. The sounds have their own cadence as the sounds modulate, changing in intensity or volume. At the same time the sounds are not repetitive. That also contributes to a more restful state.

Natural sounds for Neurotypical people

A study was done some time ago to measure the benefits of walking to reduce stress. One group was assigned to walk for 20 minutes a day along city streets. The second group was assigned to walk for 20 minutes in a park or nature preserve. The study concluded that walking in a park or nature preserve had a much greater impact on lowering the level of stress than walking along a city street.

Sometimes I find that my ABI sensitivities can be used like a ‘canary in a coalmine’. I develop habits or find environments that are critical to my quality of life and my ability to recover more quickly. What is critical for me to function better, often are the same habits or environments that are helpful in improving other people’s quality of life.

 

 

Colour Coding My Life

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I need to plan for contingencies

I’m nearing the end of my third year living with an ABI (Acquired Brain Injury). Over time I have be able to recognize and tune into about a dozen signals my body gives me when I’m nearing the limits of my sensory loading.

Within the context of dealing with sensory loading, often someone will ask how I’m doing. When casually meeting someone it varies how I answer the question. My answer would be ‘fine’ if I considered the question a greeting. My answer would involve greater or lesser details if it was a question about my well being.

When someone is asking about my well being a succinct response would be easier. I usually respond with varying degrees of detail. A brief response would be easier and more helpful.

Stop Light Metaphor

I have been thinking about it using the image of a stoplight. Using a three colour response has it’s benefits. As a thumb nail-type of overview it is short and to the  point.

Red Zone

When I’m operating in the Red zone it’s a clear message that I’m near my limit or into overload. I’m unable to make casual comments. My neural fatigue interferes with my brain’s ability to properly process what I’m hearing, seeing, smelling, or tasting.

When I’m in the Red Zone my body simply reacts to outside stimuli. When something unexpected happens I react. The reaction is triggered because I can’t anticipate the sudden change or some danger that suddenly appears. In the Red Zone I am easily startled. In some environments, depending on the frequency of being startle, it will compound my neural fatigue.

Along with not processing sensory input very well, my response lacks coherence. In responding to others my thoughts are not very well formulated. I also find myself going onto momentary tangents, a diversion from the flow of the conversation. If I’m responding to a direct question I might miss the main intent of the question.

When I’m operating in the Red Zone physical touch can range from very painful to uncomfortable. The pain can best be described as a burning sensation.

When I’m operating in the Red Zone I regularly find myself humming. Nothing melodious – it’s a tuneless hum.

Yellow Zone

When I’m operating in the Yellow Zone I’m able to make coherent comments in response to what’s happening around me. When I’m in this zone I’m processing conversation and other sensory input with reasonable clarity. However, in this zone it takes too much neural energy to initiate conversation.

When I’m in the Yellow Zone I’m more aware of what is happening around me. That means I’m planning ahead and able to anticipate. As a result I’m not as easily startled by sudden noises, unexpected touch or other changes around me.

In the Yellow Zone I will find myself involuntarily humming as well. When I’m in this zone the humming will be a  recognizable tune.

Green Zone

When I’m operating in the Green Zone I am able to initiate conversation. My responses are much more coherent because I’m able to take in what’s happening around me; the sensory input is making sense to me.

When I’m in the Green Zone I will catch myself spontaneously whistling a recognizable tune. That also serves as a reminder to me that I’m doing activities that aren’t pushing me to my limit. It’s also an indicator that I’ve cleared the sensory accumulation of the previous day or previous days.

Stoplight Metaphor

Using the stoplight metaphor is giving me a better gauge on how my sensory loading that day is being managed.

Even if I don’t respond to greetings by announcing one of the three colours, it does increase my mindfulness. That is one small way in which it’s good to be around other people even if I’m not functioning in the Green Zone.

When I’m in the extreme end of the Red Zone I’m not able to respond to direct questions. That’s because I’m struggling to understand the question, I’m struggling to think of a coherent response and I’m not able to formulate the words. I am able to nod or shake my head in response to appropriate questions.

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“I Need a Quiet Place”

I’ve considered wearing coloured wrist bands, a red, yellow and green one. It would be kind of like a medic alert bracelet. In extreme situations I could just point to the red wrist band. For this to be helpful I need two messages on the band. “I am not in pain,” and “I just need a quiet place.”

I have an idea that many non-ABI people would want one of these wrist bands. Just to give a subtle message when everyone around you is clamouring for your attention; kids, co-workers and…

The Paradox of Being Alone

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Wilderness cabin

So often I prefer to be alone but I don’t want to feel left out. This conundrum is one of the challenges of living with ABI (Acquire Brain Injury), though probably not limited to those who live with ABI.

Living with ABI can become a very isolating way to live. By that I mean, saying no, or passing on opportunities to participate in activities with others when I realize my sensory loading is reaching a point where I add to it at my peril.

The Paradox is real

When I engage in prolonged physical activities, such as cycling for a three to five hour block I  know I am committing to a recovery routine that I should not ignore. That means that as much I want to join in I will have to forego activities immediately following my vigorous activity.

When I am engaged in a discussion with a half dozen people I know my internal timer is counting down. As I am busy listening, reading body language, assessing people’s tone of voice, formulating responses to what I’m hearing, finding a socially appropriate way to interject, my neural fatigue is rapidly building. Even if I find the discussion very engaging at a certain point the internal timer runs out. I want to stay with the discussion but at the same time I want a quiet place to regroup.

When I’m at a music concert it’s does my heart good to take in the music, the lyrics and the energy of the venue. The music can be totally captivating, bringing back wonderful memories or creating a memorable experience. At the same time I know that at some point, maybe 30 or 45 minutes, and sometimes much sooner I will reach a tipping point. The captivating music will suddenly become a memorable failure, a start of a slow recovery in which I crave solitude while missing the company of family and friends.

When I volunteer at the nature center close to home I need to remain self aware. The last time I was there I had only worked for about three hours but was totally exhausted. Being introduced to the project on my arrival was neurologically challenging because of my lack of mental flexibility. Sizing up the project for the day, coordinating with two other people, and doing something unfamiliar all contributed significantly to my sensory loading. While I enjoyed doing the project and wanted to see it completed, after three hours I was longing to get out of there and find a quiet place.

Planning Ahead

This week I have the opportunity to address a room full of teachers. I have offered to  share my own experiences of living with ABI, living as a neurologically atypical person in order to advocate for neurologically diverse students hoping that more teachers will develop a sensitivity for their needs.

The paradox of wanting my own space yet feeling compelled to share is staring me in the face. I am not sure how to prepare, to avoid sensory overload while doing an hour and a half presentation in a room full of people.

I know I need to ensure that my sensory loading is at a low level at the start of the presentation. That means I need to watch what types of activities I choose to do in the two days leading up to the presentation. Taking in an extra bike ride or two would be helpful. Engaging in socially or cognitively demanding activities of any kind needs to be kept to a minimum.

I know I need to ensure that my sensory loading is at a low level. I hope that booking a motel and arriving a day ahead of time will give me time to shed the sensory loading of driving in a car. Or maybe I should take the extra day to cycle the 160 km to the event.

Presenting

In order to manage my sensory loading while addressing a room full of teachers I need to be mindful of the structure of the presentation. While I would normally consider it conducive to allow for questions during the presentation, I am aware of the extra demands that will place on me. With my problem solving skills being severely compromised, fielding questions would be counter productive.

In order to manage my sensory loading it’s important to manage my level of stress and anxiety. Most people experience a measure of anxiety when addressing a room full of professionals, or non-professionals for that matter. I have conscripted a co-presenter who is scheduled to do part of the presentation. In addition to giving me a break when she presents she will be available to back fill what I am not able to complete.

Summary

The paradox of being alone colours much of what I do. At the same time I make a point of pushing forward, setting goals so that I don’t end up feeling that I’m living in isolation.

To resolve the paradox of being alone, my aim is to avoid isolation, by seeking solitude. Finding activities and finding places that refresh my being, that helps me manage my neural fatigue, that is my idea of a place of solitude.

When I am able to experience a measure of solitude on a regular basis, that gives me the energy and endurance to reach out, to share and not slip into a place of isolation. It’s not an easy balance to achieve. It requires increased self awareness, an understanding of my limitations and setting worthy goals for how I want to participate in my community.

Common Sense doesn’t always make sense

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A Toy Box in the Making

Many hands make light work. If everyone could take a few minutes and pitch in, the work will be done in no time. We’ve all benefited from this type of sensible advice.

That’s not just practical advice, it also builds a sense of camaraderie. That all rings true unless you are dealing with ABI (Acquired Brain Injury).  Since my ABI the opportunity to work with someone else will usually add more demands to my day. At time it seems easier to be a recluse.

Working on something alone makes it less likely that I’ll develop neural fatigue. Help is great. However, working with a helper means there are a variety of social and practical considerations that need to be managed.

Pre-ABI

When is comes to completing smaller jobs I have always appreciated the opportunity to work with one or two other people. At times it’s the best way to get through a mundane task. Even making it enjoyable.

Assessing offers of help

Now a days, when I receive an offer of help, to simply lend a hand I’m inclined to decline the offer. It’s not that the offer of help makes me feel less capable. It’s just that things quickly get complicated. If on the other hand the offer of help is an offer of taking on the job, I am quite likely to accept it. I’ve learned to delegate things that I can’t complete in a timely manner.

In the last while I’ve had offers of help. An offer to help me pitch my tent – I declined. An offer to help me install a coat rake (for which it seemed I needed three hands) – I declined. Too proud? – no. Too complicated to coordinate.

Often I lose more than I gain by accepting an offer of help. Simply put, I will be more exhausted if someone helps me than if I do it by myself.

When I work alone it is cognitively less demanding; I don’t need to explain how I want to do it. I don’t need to coordinate my efforts with someone else. I don’t need to observe and explain changes in the execution of the job.

When I work alone it is socially less demanding. I don’t need to pay attention to tone or body language. I don’t need to assess how much to explain. Explaining too little can be just as annoying as explaining too much. I don’t have to match my pace to that of my helper.

Working with a helper brings into play a level of multi-tasking. What would have been a simple job, now becomes cognitively more demanding and socially more complicated. This invariably leaves me more exhausted.

Other’s experiences

Others with ABI have a similar take when working with a helper. For some there are other considerations.

My friend tells me he needs to work alone so that he doesn’t make mistakes. This he finds particularly important when he is baking. Even though he has done the same recipe countless times, whenever he tries to bake with a helper he will miss a step. One can appreciate that with baking a misstep will more likely spell a disaster rather than invent a new recipe.

Making it work

That doesn’t always rule out doing things with someone else. Often enough there are tasks that involve a simple routine. When I was sorting and cleaning our crop of garlic, my four year old grandson was glad to help. He had his part in the process. At the same time, it was relatively easy to monitor how he was doing and make the necessary corrections if he got it wrong.

This is just one more area of my life in which I am learning to be mindful. Rather than just accepting or out of hand rejecting an offer of help, I need to pause and weigh the benefits over the extra demands it will put on me.

Helping others

Having shared the challenges of receiving help, there is a different dynamic when I offer someone else some help. In many ways this can be easier. Knowing my own limitations I will first ask for an overview of what needs to be done and how the job is to proceed. I will then explain what accommodations I might need. If the job involves processing too many instructions I need to find a way to simplify it. If the job requires some concerted focus, I will suggest the need for some regular breaks or a change in activity after focusing for 20 to 40 minutes.

The benefit of being monitored

What I have appreciated the most when helping someone is having them check in with me. Several of my friends are aware of my limitations at a higher level of understanding. They will check in with  me and seem to know when to ask me how I’m doing. That helps me with my mindfulness, since it’s so easy to get caught up in an activity and just focus on getting it done.

The nuances of living in community while living with ABI has a way of bringing out the best in some people. I have had people give me a heads up when something is about to happen that will negatively affect me. Experiences like these reinforces for me a sense that I’m not alone in adjusting to life with ABI.

IKEA and ABI: a Confusing Combo

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IKEA cupboard with bookshelf

My recent experience made me realize I have not bought anything at IKEA since the pre-ABI era. In the past I was able to assemble an IKEA purchase in record time. Not only could I assemble the computer desk or end table or cupboard quickly, I also didn’t have any pieces left over.

My recent IKEA purchase left me wondering whether from now on I should avoid that store.

I won’t bore you with the details but I ended up assembling every page of the instructions twice. No matter how carefully I would line up the parts with the IKEA hieroglyphics booklet I would somehow get it wrong.

A few years back the instructions included the step of gluing all parts that are held together by dowels. While it makes the furniture more durable, I now know why they no longer include that step.

After I assembled each section, I would take a break before going on to the next step. After getting back at it I would eventually line up the right pieces and the necessary hardware only to find out that the part I had completed was put together wrong.

I would back up one step, hoping the glue would let go, reassemble that part and move on to the next step. I didn’t think it was possible, but sadly putting things together backwards and reassembling happened all the way through the process.

I did manage to put the doors and handles on the right way the first time. That’s because it would take a total idiot to install them wrong. There is no upside or downside to confuse.

Once I was done assembling the cupboard with the upper bookshelf I had more than a few pieces left over. I puzzled over the left overs for awhile. After studying the hieroglyphic booklet I recognized several parts from assembling the cupboard.

I worked my way through the hieroglyphics booklet and emerged with a fully intact second cupboard. Sadly I once again ended up reassembling each section twice before I had it right.

Sleuthing expedition

I stopped in at IKEA to find out I had completely mixed up my purchase. I prefer to blame the IKEA showroom for the mix up.

The showroom had the cupboard displayed as a single purchase with a price tag of $129. Nearby was the same cupboard with the bookshelf attached. The price tag of $149 was attached to the bookshelf part of the display.

Since I wanted the book shelf and the cupboard I made note of the order number for each. I went down to the self-serve area and confidently loaded up the boxes.

You’ve probably figured out my oversight. I couldn’t see how there could be only a $20 difference between the cupboard by itself and the cupboard with a bookshelf as a complete unit.

Notes to my ABI self

  • Do not shop alone at IKEA.
    • Reminds me of the paint store that wouldn’t tint paint for a husband unless his wife was along or he had a note from his wife approving of the colour.
  • Ask the cashier what I am actually purchasing.
    • That’s assuming the cashier actually knows what’s in the plain beige coloured boxes.
  • Price in the cost of hiring a furniture assembler.
    • That’s assuming someone else understand the booklet written in hieroglyphics better than me.
  • Return the extra furniture and tell them I changed my mind once I saw it assembled.
    • I was told they would be friendlier with me if I had the receipt but even with it assembled they would take it back.
  • It’s not worth driving an hour to return the extra cupboard.
    • Find a local person looking for a bargain
  • Don’t shop at IKEA on the weekend.
    • Unless you want to be one of the customers lined up 15 deep in each of the 20 checkout lines.

Anyone looking for an IKEA cupboard pre-assembled and ready to be enjoyed? Just think. You won’t have to waste time in the checkout line. You won’t have to waste time driving into the big city. You won’t have to waste time assembling the dresser. That makes it worth double or triple the purchase price.

What I ended up with.

Being AWOL

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Snowbirds – Niagara-on-the-Lake

When guests are arriving or soon to arrive that’s when most households go into an “all hands on deck” mode. There never seems to be enough time, despite attempts at planning ahead, to get everything done.

That’s when I am the least helpful. I do most poorly when there are last minute jobs that need to get done. The lack of mental flexibility is one of my ABI challenges. That means dealing with a few simple requests quickly leads to neural fatigue.

Neural fatigue sets in because the brain is called on to change the trajectory it was on. Putting a halt to what I was doing and all the thought processes that are part of the activity takes neural energy. The so called wrapping my brain around the new activity is like having my brain activity level decelerate and accelerate, using up precious energy.

It’s not a question of the tasks being complicated. No. To do even a simple task puts the brain through several steps. First, the request needs to be acknowledged. If the request isn’t fully grasped then a question needs to be formulated to get clarification. Once the clarification is received it needs to be interpreted. If it is properly understood then a plan, even for very simple tasks, needs to be worked out. To execute the plan the ‘where’, ‘what’ and the ‘how’ of the request needs to be worked out.

All the steps that a brain goes through when changing gears and taking on a new task happens seamlessly with most people. Most people don’t even notice it till they find themselves in a situation where they say, “Oh, this multi-tasking makes me tired.”

With an ABI the brain lacks the strength or endurance to change gears easily or seamlessly.

Limbic System

Why does the brain experience neural fatigue after only a few simple requests?

The nature of my limitations lies in the fact that my limbic system has been injured and so the neo-cortex is working extra hard to fill in.

For me the limbic system, which should be adept at rapidly changing activities, isn’t able to perform it’s normal functions. To give a simplified explanation, the limbic system has the following key functions:

The structures of the limbic system are involved in motivation, emotion, learning, and memory.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limbic_system

Following up on requests to complete small tasks might not appear difficult at first glance. However, a different picture emerges when one realizes that the small task requires the following functions; motivation, learning, and memory, functions which the limbic system is designed to handle very efficiently.

When these functions are handed over to the neo-cortex, the brain function loses significant efficiency. When the neo-cortex takes on these functions it requires much more effort and the processing speed is much slower.

Analogy

Compare the change in brain function to a weight lifter being called on to stand in for a sprinter. A champion weight lifter will be struggling. Just as each athlete has a specialty so too each part of the brain has a specialty.

Just as an athlete can cross train and develop additional specialties so too can the brain. However, it takes time, effort and practice to take on new functions. Also, there needs to be a propensity for the activity. The ability for the brain to relearn is referred to as neuroplasticity.

Social settings

Many things happen during social settings, that my brain can’t process efficiently.  The social setting could be a dance, a birthday celebration, a wedding anniversary etc.. After several conversations I will find a quiet place to give my brain a rest. When there is a change in the activity I need time to adjust. When there’s live music I need to walk away more often. Most often ten minutes is enough to make a difference. On returning I will do a cursory overview and decide if I’m ready to join in.

This does break the continuity of the event for me. Often that is a minor inconvenience. Other times there is a sense of having missed something. Trying to get up to speed can contribute to neural fatigue. In those situations it’s helpful when someone fills me in on what happened while I stepped out. Though I don’t count on someone to fill me in.

I don’t always realize the source of the disconnect that is nagging at me and therefore not realize the need to ask someone to fill me in while I stepped away.

In the past year I have met several people who are very observant. These people know and recognize when I’m reaching my limits often before I’m aware of it myself. That brings with it a strong emotional sense of Wow! To have others looking out for me is heartwarming and in some ways beyond words.

When I’m around people who understand my limitations I don’t feel like I’m going AWOL. I have the assurance that I’m unofficially on an approved leave.