A lesson of my broke brain

How do you decompress? At the end of the day how do you let go of all the shit and relax? How do you pay attention to the world around you but not become overwhelmed by the amount of sensory information bombarding your body? It’s constant. The input of data from talking, listening, watching, doing, breathing, and thinking and everything else we do every second of every 24 hours in a day. This brain injury of mine taught me so much about the amount of information our brains process every single moment of every day.

One effect of a brain injury is called sensory overload. A healthy brain takes hundreds of data points and filters them out according to what is important at that moment. Every light, sound, smell, touch, etc. is processed through your brain and then it decides what to make relevant and what to drown out. Think about when you’re in a restaurant at a busy time. There are people talking around you from the people you came with to strangers at other tables. There are lights in varying shades, vibrancy, and brightness. On top of that are the sounds of the kitchen, wait staff, bartenders, and even other guests as they move around. The shuffle of feet, a clink of ice in a glass, movement of a coat being put on or taken off, a chair being moved, a fork on a plate, pouring wine, etc. Then add the smells of food wafting from the kitchen or the table next to you. The touch of hands or brush of an arm. A gentle kiss or an arm around the waist. Add your own emotions into the mix. Visceral reactions to an occasion, a cheer, or a sad moment shared between soon to be ex-lovers. Dramatic yes but so real.

Now think about sitting in that restaurant with the conversations, lights, physical sounds of movement, smells, touch, and emotions and try to think about how you process all of it. Here’s the funny thing. You don’t consciously process most of it. Your decision to focus on the conversation with the person across the table from you seems like a conscious decision but, it’s your brain processing out all the other points of information.

Have you ever been lost in a moment? You realize there has been an hour of time where you noticed only that one person or saw nothing but this amazing plate of food in front of you. Say thank you to your brain. It chose what information or data to dim down or quiet out so you could enjoy that delicious dessert or see nothing else but this amazing human being across the table from you and it did all of that without your conscious input. Your brain decided to not focus on the lights at the stage while you chatted up the bartender. It chose to hear the clink of the ice in a glass as the bartender fixed another drink. It’s so strange to think about and I’m not sure I ever would have thought about it except the moment I realized my brain could no longer filter out sensory aspects on its own. Everything, even in the quiet of my apartment, became blaringly obnoxious.

I went for a lot of walks because I couldn’t drive, couldn’t work, couldn’t read a book, watch television, or play on the computer. The first walks were terrifying though. The sun and the lights were the same brightness and every single sound from traffic and car horns to people talking were the same volume. The wind blowing felt like almost certain death from the increasing beating of my heart. The feel of the wind on my skin, the coolness, and the sound of it as it whipped my hair around all had the same intensity. I remember the confusion and fear on that first walk and the angry feeling when I realized I had only made it to the bottom of the hill on my street and thought I may have to turn around to go home. The fear that ripped through me was palpable. My heart was racing as I fought with my own brain to process something, anything out so I could concentrate and even the beating of my heart was overwhelming. How do you fight with your brain when it’s broken though? It was hurting as much as the rest of me but at that time I couldn’t understand how broken it really was and I could not fully comprehend why everything was so overwhelming. Every second being awake is chaos when every sense is the same intensity.

After the first few terrifying walks I realized awareness, meditation, and mindfulness were going to be my only saviors from the barrage of sensory information. Each walk became an experience and adventure unto its own. I looked around a little bit more and consciously picked what I wanted to focus on. It could have been something as simple as one single flower, an adorable barking dog, or the wind picking up but no matter what I chose to focus for a few blissful moments. After practicing for a month, I noticed my brain slowly started to process out certain aspects on it's own and my surroundings stopped feeling so overwhelming. The traffic noises downtown became less obnoxious in sound and feeling. The wind could still be as viscerally overwhelming but only if I chose to let it all hit me at once from the sound and feel. My brain is still not back to full health and there are still times I get overwhelmed and everything becomes the same intensity. In those moments I forgive my brain and I take deep breaths. I have been learning to live life at this new norm and am thankful for the lesson to thank my body for doing its job, forgive it when it doesn’t, and recognize it’s still healing. I am grateful for the chance to experience life at such an extreme level because it taught me even more the importance of enjoying every moment. It taught me how to stop rushing from each task or chore and to enjoy the beauty in the ordinary. I am also thankful for the moment to realize the immense task we subject our brains to every day. It makes sense why we’re all so tired all the time. Our poor brains are simply trying to keep up with the chaos we create.

That’s really the point of this story though. A realization of priorities and reality. A lesson to give the magic workings of our bodies a rest. A chance to find a moment to simply breathe and be present. I am still far from perfect at being mindful of what my body is trying to tell me, but I listen more than I ever have before. Life is meant to be enjoyed and rushing from one thing to the next without processing the things around us is not truly living.