Neuro pain, emotional pain, and my experience with EMDR-like therapy

Today, I have a good reason to talk about one of complexities of my life, especially since it might help others.

Last post was about how to recognize pain. One crazy part, is, pain can also mimic emotional distress. I long thought that the intense pains I felt were emotionally based; they were often accompanied by memory and emotional memory flashbacks. They aren't. It's the pain that's linked. And in the process of discovering this, I learned a bit about EMDR.

But first: I'm going to talk about "links" here. The brain retrieves memories by what is linked to the memory - the more links you have to a memory, the easier it is to retrieve it. And there's more to it than that. For example, if you were brought up hearing that "greed" was despicable, you might call your toxic ex-partner "a greedy filty SOB... no, make it a greedy, lecherous, elderly pervert!" Well, that's the sort of thing I mean: greedy makes both lists. When you're angry, you think of the things that you think are despicable. So I'm not talking about anything truly strange, here, and there's plenty of science backing it up.

In my experience, when I'm having a lot of neurological pain, it's easy for bad emotions to be triggered. Why? I don't know, and I'm really not a person who can say what is *really* happening. It might be just what I mentioned above - when your brain is experiencing pain, you might remember similar pains, including iconic memories. But I also think, if your brain is receiving a bunch of stop signals that it can't interpret, it might stimulate different types of thoughts and reactions, including memories and emotional states.

Bad memories can become self sustaining, when depressed, or, when PTSD is involved. This isn't exactly controversial, which is why I think neuro-pain can trigger spontaneous flashback-like episodes. That seems to match my own experiences.

That's what brings me to EMDR. When I first heard it described, I thought it was bullshit. As stories came in that it helped, I remained potentially skeptical, but, hey, if it helps, it helps. In the end, you have to cure yourself of PTSD - other folks can only help you understand different tools that might help, but you're the one who is triggered, so only you can learn to handle it. So if EMDR helps you, please understand, I respected your use of it, even when I didn't think it was useful. Yes, even when I thought it was bullshit - after all, I turned out to be wrong. It happens. And when it happens, I sure can't say it was silly for someone else to believe in something that hadn't convinced me yet.

Anyway: if you don't know a lot about me, I'm a "shaman" which just means I am used to operating in different conscious states. Also, while it's none of your business, I don't use consciousness altering drugs for my shamanic work... not even tobacco. I recognized that my conscious states weren't working well, so, I worked with a known method for manipulating thoughts, feelings, and consciousness.

My ability to change my consicousness allows me to pull free of a lot of "traps" that PTSD sets for me - I recognize the trap in my brain, and I'm able to remember that I don't have to be this way, and modify how I'm handling my situation - all of my situation, including my pain, and my RL and emotional memories. (I flashback to bad emotional states, which is worse than remembering a single time when I felt a horrible emotion.)

Shamanism helped me a lot, but it just wasn't enough. And then, one day, I just decided, "I don't remember anything about EMDR, but, I do remember it deals with moving the eyes." Now: the story I'll tell sounds like it worked the first time. It probably didn't. I probably tried "rem-sleep" eye movement - eyes moving behind closed eyes. But my memory sucks - I don't remember how or when I first tried EMDR. I don't have the ability to remember that far back, so, let me present what I did find, and, again, remember, I'm not promising it worked like the proverbial charm.

If I'm in pain, and I'm facing flashbacks, if I open my eyes, it helps center me. "I am no longer there; this is no longer that time," is a good capsule synopsis If that's not enough, a quick eye shimmy will bring me back *here*. Well, once I'm "here" I'm just in pain. Just being in pain, rather than having pain and emotional responses, is a decidedly mixed blessing. Sometimes, it might be more pro-survival to wallow in a bad memory, while neurological pain is causing you a big problem. (No, I'm not kidding - neurological pain is no joke. Sometimes you need a counter-pain you can chew on to feel able to stand up to it.)

The key takeaway from this, for me, is, first, if you have flashbacks, it's not impossible to seize control back. EMDR might help, but more important than the type of therapy is getting you able to ride out any mental/emotional storm you're going through. You can get through it - I don't know precisely how *you* will get through it, but I do know you (general you) can, with the right help and support.

And here's a secret no one is likely to tell you: once you can cope, just a bit, it becomes easier to handle the day to day stresses. If you know you can use EMDR if the pain gets too bad, you might realize you can shandle more pain, without stresing, because you can always find a quiet place for EMDR-coping. If you can force your imagination to modify a flashback scenario, again, you might find you're not as afraid of flashback scenarios, because with some effort, you can seize control. Hell, if you find that you can clear your head by, e.g., sticking your hand/arm into a bucket of ice water, well, keep ice handy, so you're always ready for an emergency, and you might find you need it less frequently as time goes on. Any method you can use to help you cope gives you the ability to cope more, because you'll finally have the ability to find a bit of peace.

The second takeaway is, sometimes, when you think pain is emotional - *especially* if you feel weak, unable to control an emotion - it might be neurological pain manifesting. Taking a good look around might make it easier to control your emotional state. Or, you might do actual EMDR, which, remember, I haven't done. It doesn't matter which; just remember, if it works for you, the way it works for me, it means that you'll switch from emotional pain, to neurological pain. That might be good - it might help you isolate its triggers. It's still a very mixed blessing.

For me, my neurological pain seems to be tied to something that's too complicated to explain, but, the term I use is "the unwinding dance". For me, that means I have a sense of whether or not I have a reasonable chance of feeling better, and, it also means I have an idea of what is triggering the pain, and I have some methods of alleviating it.

I also suspect the way I feel - the sense that my body is tangled up a bit ("Marionette String Syndrome" is what I call it) might someday give us more information about how and why neurological pain occurs. All of these are topics for another day, but, if I'm ever going to do anyone any good, I want to introduce these terms - unwinding, MSS for Marionette String Syndrome, etc. - so I don't have to explain them every time.

Thoughts on empathy

I have to admit, there are a lot of times when I don't have any idea why I'm alive. If I had cancer, I'd know I was struggling to get past the chemo/radiation, so I could resume my life, but I never really had a life to resume.

I don't have time or energy to socialize, and I know that socializing will do more harm than good. People are only ever my friends if I sneak in my weirdness under their radar; afterward, I can remain good friends only so long as I'm not a bother. It's just better not to allow myself to be a bother in the first place.

I can't read; I can't write; I can't speak; I can't listen. I remember all those years where I was dumbass enough to try to maintain friendships, for when I'd be better, because I thought there was a chance of things getting better. I learned the hard way that trying to maintain friendships just loses them, with people angry that I fooled them into being my friend.

I know part of the problem. I learned my empathy from cats. Cats love to be touched, if they trust you, and, if you're willing to learn what kinds of touch they like. Well, if you're used to stroking a cat to make a cat happy, you know much of what you need to make a woman happy, from the "don't act entitled to attention, or the cat might scratch you," to learning the spots of purr-stimulation. Well, both cats, and people, expect similar behaviors over time. Once I'm too tired, emotions scorched numb, no sense of happiness in anything, I just kind of forget that I enjoy touching, because it becomes too much work.

It's not just touch, of course - it's everything. I come across as someone I'm not, because my brain and emotions say "do good, happymaking things" and my body says "screw you, *with* the horse you rode in on." Well... my body does know its insults, to go with its injuries.

I like happiness, and I think it's because I know how important it is, just like a person in the desert knows the value of water - even when you might have plenty at the moment, you know it's precious and to be protected. I can't have much of it for me, but that's no reason that others shouldn't.

But I can't help make people happy any more, so there's really no *point*. There's just this stupid hope that the chronic fatigue syndrome, which started in my early childhood will sudden get better, now that I'm in my late 50s. Which, let's be honest: it's not likely to happen.

A few days back, I wrote this:
I did something good today, and I finally understand what it was.

It's hard to exercise when one has CFS. It's twisted - you only know if you did too much, when the price tag reveals itself, hours later, or overnight. And if you always feel like shit, you might not even recognize the price tag when it reveals itself. But I'm officially a full blown diabetic now, and that means I must exercise.

So I was walking. Ten minutes, only as fast as my legs wanted to go, and a nice dose of Vitamin D. That was a good thing, but, I mean, of course it was. Walking helps reduce fluid pooling in the lower body, and has a nice clearing effect on acute blood sugar. It helps protect the heart and kidneys.

If anyone ever reads this, and is afraid of diabetes, don't be too afraid. There are now miracle drugs for early stages of diabetes, and they won't mean you can have a big gooey sundae for dessert each night, but they will mean you can eat a realistic diet, with splurges allowed, and still keep your sugars low enough that you avoid being damaged by your blood sugar levels.

But you'll still need to exercise, and exercise doesn't have to be beastly. It can be a few intense minutes on an exercise bicycle, doing interval training; it can be a nice, slow, supremely gentle exercise you do, in your living room, so you can watch TV, not just your iPad/tablet(/PHONE? Say it isn't so!). That method works well for me; my treadmill is in the living room, facing the good TV, and no one argued because:
1) they love me and understand my needs, and
2) technically, I kinda own the house.

Still: owning the house just meant it was there when they *got* here, see? Now, it means they'd either set me up an enviable exercise room, or, keep the treadmill where it is. And I love the idea of the treadmill, because, so long as you don't need to look at your feet, you can walk as slow as you want - 1 mph, if that's your speed. If you can do that for 10 minutes, but you need the distraction of a good TV show, that's ten minutes of walking you'd never get otherwise.

If you *do* need to look down when walking, treadmills should be considered risky until proven safe. Your eyes and legs can't coordinate easily on a treadmill, because they're getting different messages. If you look at your feet, when on a treadmill, your eyes see no forward motion overall, but some backward motion. That's confusing enough. But the feet are insisting you are moving forward. Trust me on this: your legs (and likely the rest of you) are constantly telling your brain things, like, "we're moving forward". In general, "you" have never needed to know that, becuase "it just works."

PS: as you age, treadmills can become suddenly, unexpectedly, dangerous. USE THE DEADMAN CLIP!!! If you fall, most treadmills can sand the ever-living F out of your skin. You don't want that - what if your skin becomes "loppy"? Plastic surgeon can't cure loppy skin, so, don't get the F sanded out of your skin. If you're too arrogant to use the clip-on "emergency brake", I'd urge you to find a good bicycle (try out a recumbent), or an elliptical, if that's reasonably possible. (Remember: no one needs to know you did it out of arrogance :-).)

Where was I? Right, I saw a woman, seemed elderly, and she was having a lot more trouble walking than me. I passed to her side (I didn't want to startle her) and asked if everything was okay, and when she said yes, I said "glad to hear it." But I did want to be sure. She was going a long distance, for someone struggling as she was.

That said: who the heck am *I* to judge whether someone walking, while struggling, is struggling too much?

I was going to continue on my way, but, damn it, my brain served up the right scenario for me. Once she was getting across the street I was on, I kept my distance, and just asked, "You'd let me know if I could help, right?" and she laughed and said she was fine. Then my brain threw in a bit that would help, if she was like me.

"Okay; I was just worried, it's getting warm, and wow, what a bright sun!" Then I waved and walked away. If she was self conscious about how she walked, I just gave us a face saving out, I was only checking because of extreme circumstances. It was a white lie; it was about 78 degrees at the time, but it lets us both feel confident it was just me being neighborly. I wasn't saying she shouldn't struggle so much, and yet, if the struggle is too much right now, I'll help. Because something something sunny day.

(end quoted)
Twenty-four hours later, I realized the above was composed during a period in which I risked slipping into hypomania, due to poor sleep, due to pain. When I feel really good about stuff like this, it means I could be going crazy, acting with a tinge of irrationality, but not so much irrationality that it seems impossible.

I can't keep it up, and so, sooner or later, I stop being fun, and I might even present a burden, and then my ass gets kicked to the curb, usually with a sense that they're angry I hid the awful truth about myself from them. It's true - I pretended my life wasn't a living hell, because no one wants to deal with that. Then, when my life *being* a living hell interacts with our relationship, well, fuck, you don't think people fight to hold on to me, do you? No, if I want to retain the friendship, I must ignore the pain they've caused, and prepare to swallow more in the future.

Thankfully, I've learned from Pat that I don't need friends, so, no worries. Friendship is far too dangerous for me. It's not that I was an idiot for believing in some of the stuff Spider Robinson talks about - he writes good fiction for normal people. I was just an idiot for believing it would work for me, while I'm still damaged goods.

Maybe someday.