Another thing I think my TBI's makes me more sensitive to is mirror neurons (you can read about those here: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3898692/ and here: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog...). It seems I am a bit more sensitive to and even reflective of what what others are projecting. I feel it more and I reflect it back often without realizing I am doing it.
...and as I am writing and thinking about this an epiphany strikes: there is very likely a connection to the suicidal impulses I feel when I am dismissed, degraded, and treated with other forms of disrespect and condescension. hmmm.... it makes a lot of sense why I have to fight my own brain and suicidal self-destruction impulsive intrusive thoughts when others wish for me to just disappear and dismiss or degrade me in an attempt to make me disappear. ...this theory makes a lot of sense in a lot of scenarios I have experienced recently actually... hmmm... interesting.
Back to what I really came on here to write about: The incredible healing power of being treated with dignity and respect.
This morning we met with the new Chief Prosecuting Attorney in the county where the charges were filed against me. The very lovely victim advocate I met with last week who helped set up the meeting was there to offer support. My husband was also there. I sat between the two of them as I talked with the Chief Prosecuting Attorney (how about we call him CPA). He listened, he asked questions, he treated me as if I were intelligent and knew what I was talking about. He treated me with dignity and respect. At one point, when I was starting to feel a bit defensive, he gave me a stern look and reprimanded with the common, "excuse me" or something like that, for my interrupting him. It is important to note that he was not rude, condescending or degrading, it was just that simple reminder that we all sometimes need when we need to allow the other person to speak. I appreciated his stern but respectful response, it made it very easy to correct myself, apologize, and listen to him. Especially since I knew from how he had been listening and treating me that he would listen when it was my turn again and after he said what he needed to or what he felt I needed to understand.
It was very refreshing to finally be heard.
One thing I noticed, and that I was very surprised by, was that I didn't cry at all. I think my eyes welled a tiny bit when I mentioned my son and out concern for him, but I was so composed and able to speak without the emotional interruptions that often require periods of silence for me to regain composure. I did occasionally loose my words but it was not too frequent and I was able to recover them fairly quickly.
But the one thing that shocked me the most was the void of tremors. Although I was a bit shaky going in, while meeting with the CPA not even my increasingly tremory left hand revealed my "disability."
I felt strong and confident. I felt more like me, the me that I really am.
On the ride home, my husband and I celebrated this tiny victory as we reflected on it and that is when I realized just how much of a difference it makes when you a: have support and b: are treated with dignity and respect. Those two things reduced the stress of the situation significantly.
This moment and those people deserved to be honored so I thank my husband and then once back home I sent the other two a quick thank you via email. That is when my eyes well and a few tears spill, but only a literal few.
Surprisingly the effects of being treated with dignity and respect don't end there, they hold. I was certain I would fall apart at some point, but I don't. I feel good and solid the entire day. My energy is good, my head does not hurt, and I have no tremors at all the entire day and this is such a pleasant surprise. It also helps me understand just how bad I really have been being treated by so many people at USU and those others I have had to deal with and try to resolve things with through this whole ordeal. Realizing this and feeling it helps me, and can continue to help me, recognize that it really is not me and I am truly not deserving of the treatment I have been receiving. Neither is my son.
It also helps me appreciate those who have been a support, even if it is in very small ways.
So that is good and I am glad and so very, very grateful.
...And now it is time to take my meds to make sure I don't get too glad and too grateful. What a weird disability to have.
(*published one day after events described)
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