Which basket is the trauma in?

Whoever it was that said "you never know what a day will bring" should win a Nobel prize.

This morning when I got up, Ben was at the farm, which is not unheard of. So I did my usual morning routine of  supplements and dog walk, then made my coffee and went to my place in the basement to read my Bible. Not far into Hezekiah's reign I heard Ben come home and knew he would come down to ask how I slept, which he always does every single morning. I might have a little trouble in that area.

We had the sleep conversation and another one about finances because we are fun like that, then made a plan for him to have a day full of meetings and me to go pick up a 200-amp something-or-other box from the electric company for the house. I decided to take Hank with me and stop at the High Bridge Trail in Farmville for a walk since it was going to be a beautiful day.

The drive to the electric company's office is 40 miles, so I put on some good music and enjoyed myself. Hank was probably sick of listening to one particular song over and over, but that's how I learn the lyrics. Do you do that too? Tell me I'm not the only one.

I picked up the electrical box thingy and then headed back to Farmville where Hank and I had a great 3-mile walk that included a lovely conversation with a vegan about how much better grass-fed beef is than the commercially raised kind. I'm still not sure what to think about his dedication to veganism but I agree with his conclusion on cows.

Anyway, as I was driving home my mind was wandering like it does, and one particular thought led to a very sudden flashback kind of thing that took me from smiling to crying and shaking in half a second. But almost as soon as I felt heaps of guilt and shame, I realized that my brain had taken one random thought from today and connected it to a traumatic event that's 40 years old. That's what brains do, they make connections. In this case it connected something current to something from way back when.

But the old event was apparently still bothering my brain, and that's why it caused such a strong reaction; hence, the tears and shaking. Now that I understood that, I could remind myself that the old event is over, not in the present. It doesn't get to control my life. That was then; this is now.

Picture your brain like a two-tiered basket on your office desk. The top basket is current stuff that you are dealing with. These things are happening right now. They have your brain's attention or can have it very quickly. The bottom basket is what's finished, done being dealt with. It's in the past. Over. You don't have to think about it or worry about it anymore.

When a trauma occurs, it's too much for your brain to handle in that moment, so the event gets shoved in the "current" basket. Your brain is saying, "Get it out of here! Just do something with it!" Then it stays in the current basket, and anything—a sound, a smell, a thought, a body sensation, another car on the road—can make your brain connect it to that trauma that's still in the current basket. Then—boom—your body is in panic mode.

EMDR therapy helps your brain fully process and deal with the traumatic event so it can be moved to the "done" basket. When that happens, your brain stops thinking it's happening right now and your body can stop overreacting in an effort to keep you safe. The trauma can be a memory that probably still makes you sad, but it doesn't rule the day. It's in the past.

When things like this happen to me it's easy to get discouraged. But now that I understand how traumatic memories are stored, I can remind myself that my brain is working hard to make sense of a lot of things, and it's just trying to keep me safe. It's processing and growing, and I'm thankful for that.

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. (Psalm 139:14)

  To become a more compassionate and understanding friend to those who have experienced trauma, I highly recommend the book The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk.

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