It was as if someone pulled the rug out from under me; like a gust of wind picked up and blew apart the house of cards I’d been diligently building. I tried to carry on, push through and catch up. Ignoring the signs my body was desperate for me to read, I carried on… until I absolutely couldn’t. The pain literally shut me down – first body, then mind, then soul.
I’m working on living an authentic life. Trying to be mindful, aware, open and accepting. I’m determined to let go but trying to not try is harder than it sounds. But I’m not alone in this endeavour. I’ve got support. From Elkhart Tolle to Bruce Lipton to my dear friend Liza Hindmarch I’ve learned that our mental state is not meant to be reactionary, it’s meant to be creative. Our thoughts are powerful contributors to our experience and we’d all do well to make them supportive rather than destructive.
So what happened? Why, four months after a car accident which left me with whiplash and a concussion, after rounds of acupuncture, chiropractor visits, guided meditations, massage and rest, did my symptoms suddenly return with a vengeance? The pain and mental disconnect became so bad I took medical leave from a job I love, sequestered myself away from the children I adore and wept in bed for weeks. I leaned more heavily on my husband than ever before and resented myself for having to do it. I was so far from accepting and allowing that I gobbled up pain meds like candy and drilled my knuckles as deep and hard into my temples as I could muscle. The CT, MRI, ENT and blood work all revealed a healthy body. Doctors postulated around the headaches, selecting new pain meds almost daily, but despite the pharmacopoeia that was my purse, the pain endured and the wooziness remained. As I write now, my brain feels like some wires are loose. My capacity to function has returned enough for me to be awake and partake more in the day, but I’m still recovering. I’m still frightened and fragile and far from myself.
This is post concussion syndrome. It’s a medical word to describe feeling messed up for weeks , months or years following a head injury. It’s invisible, and insufferable. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But there is a lesson here… I will uncover the message my body is sending me.
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