Tears

I mentioned last week that I have a propensity to cry, especially over emotional situations. Rarely for physical injury, almost always due to emotions. 

To illustrate this, a couple years ago when cutting firewood I stabbed my self with a pulp hook in the shin. Not that it matters but it can happen when hurrying and not paying proper attention. It hurt bad enough that I went to the ER to make sure I didn't have a fracture; after I finished the load of wood I was working on. No tears, just annoyance combined with a hole in the shape of the end of the hook.

Compare that to me watching some movies and tv shows. And not just sad scenes, but triumphant ones. Yes, sometimes I get tears watching GOOD things. It's like my emotions overload and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

What's interesting is that while it was never quite to this level before my accident in 2016, emotional tears have been a thing for me for a long time. And knowing what I know now, I think it was because of my first accident that happened way back before I was even school age. Back then I fell off a couch onto a heating register, head first, full weight. It's actually a wonder I didn't injure my neck given where I hit. I then followed that up years later when another fall, this time in a clawfoot cast iron tub. In that case I came directly down on my chin, causing a whiplash effect . These were both before bike accident's without helmet's (80's kid) and years of football would add to my trauma. 

The reason I mention the initial accident as a child is because of something my mother would say years later to my step-father while I was getting scolded for crying. She told him that when I was little, I never cried and my tears as I got older were just making up for that. Now, some of that of course is just a mother trying to protect her child. But, it's also not out of the realm of possibility and dare I say, even likely, that I had a change in emotional function following that first injury. I literally landed full weight, on my head, on top of a heating register at somewhere between 3-4 years old. The scar from the stitches is still visible when I shave my head and it's actually a common trait that emotional responses and personality traits change post brain injury (comedian Sam Kinison is an example).

And that brings us to today. Emotional crying has nearly always been a thing but after my accident in 2016 it's escalated. As I mentioned in the beginning, even watching a movie with a triumphant ending can elicit tears. Sad endings now seem to be a given. The Avengers: Endgame is an example of that. When Ironman sacrifices himself (spoiler alter though if you haven't seen it yet, no sympathy), yep, tears. Right there in public in the theater. No choice. Tried to hold them back but to no avail. Hell, watching Miracle the last time, when they beat the Russians and Kirk Russel as Herb Brooks was in disbelief at doing something so momentous, tears. Not necessarily crying but I was misty.

This has all come to the forefront this week as we set up for Christmas because a year ago at this time we found out that our Shepard, Kane, was dying of cancer (he crossed the rainbow bridge January 9th of 2020). Placing his ornament on the tree and hanging his stocking brought out, you guessed it, tears. Now it's not unusual of course to cry over the loss of a beloved pet, but for me, I feel like my emotional response to him passing and still today was overly strong. I question it enough that I'm actually wondering if I have what's referred to as Pseudobulbar affect, a disorder that causes laughing and/or crying uncontrollably or at questionable times. It's certainly something I plan to ask about at my next neuro appointment.

So, why do I write this? I write it because it's embarrassing if I'm being honest and it always has been. I'm a big dude. I'm a beard wearing, weight lifting, gun shooting, deer hunting, woodcutting, car fixing red blooded male. While definitions of the sexes have and continue to change, my definition of masculinity includes such things. 

It does not, however, include crying at the movies. 

And I know I'm damn sure not alone on that one. Knowing this, I could also see how such a scenario could have not just a drastic effect on someone, but potentially a fatal one. 

So I share. 

I share my embarrassment. Because by doing so it:

1. Removes the possibility it can be used against me. It's hard to weaponize an admitted embarrassment. 
2. Because someone else out there may be fighting a similar battle and by saying it out loud and admitting it, it'll perhaps allow them to do the same. 

It's embarrassing, it also just is. The only way to control it is to avoid. 

🠊Avoid going to the movies. 

🠊Avoid watching a tv show or movie with your family because you don't want to explain why you're crying. 

🠊Avoid not just bad feelings, but good ones as well because you're scared of embarrassing yourself in front of others. 

Avoiding life for fear of of presenting an uncontrollable act is no way to live. I've done it and frankly, it's exhausting. If you're reading this and you deal with it, you understand. If you're reading this and don't deal with it but do have issues that present physically beyond your control, you get it too. 

It sucks but let me tell you, even just writing this is cathartic. Knowing that someone may read it and feel better about themselves, feels great. Acknowledging that my issue is not just mine but others out there will understand provides acceptance.

And revealing such a personal trait to the world that can either be accepted or potentially used against me is empowering because it's beyond my control how this is received by others. 

I can only control how I handle myself. 

And that makes me happy. Maybe even happy enough to cry.  

 

Shame

One of the weird side effects that is not often discussed is the shame that comes with injury or chronic illness. Not just with a TBI, but with any injury or illness. You feel shame for being such. Some of it real, some of it imagined, but it's still there often, if not all the time. 

It's the shame of not being a normal part of society (even though I'm unsure there is a "normal" part of society). For some it's the shame of not being able to work. Or being able to physically pleasure your significant other. Or the shame of only being able to contribute minimally to ones household. Or being a younger person who needs to make use of a scooter in a grocery store or a handicapped plate or placard. There's potential shame everywhere, with every action and inaction. 

There's immense shame involved in the world around us and I haven't even gotten into what takes place on social media, which is it's own mind field that SEEMS to mostly involve two parties; those who use it to complain and try to game the system and those who attempt to shame everyone with disabilities as though they're the first. It's very much like online political discussions in that way. The loudest get the attention while those in the middle seeking the nuance and truth are drowned out.

But it's also not the reality. Most people who're injured or ill simply want to live life. And they want to do it without the shame. I'm in that boat. As a matter of fact so is Shawna with her illness. But still, interestingly enough, we've rarely discussed the shame we feel and even when it's been done, it's mostly in passing. In-fact, she didn't know I was writing this post. And honestly, I didn't even make the connection that we hadn't really discussed it until now, as the words flowed form my finger tips. 

I feel shame due to my injury often. As a man, it's difficult to be in a position where naps are often needed daily. Where I've gone through multiple jobs and am not currently the bread winner. Where I cry, at times near uncontrollably, due to an emotional situation. There are things that fall within my own definition of masculinity that I simply cannot adhere too. And that breeds a shame that's incredibly hard to reconcile mentally. 

There is seemingly shame everywhere. Of course, it's more prevalent if you're looking for it but it's also one of those things in life that has the ability to creep into the psyche out of nowhere and can be crippling when unprepared. 

So how do we navigate it?

First, we admit that it exists. Just like any problem, not acknowledging it isn't just unhelpful, it actively hinders. So, the shame exists. And now that we admit that we can move onto the next step:

Identify the who, what, when, where, and how. 

This part of the process will take time; significant time in-fact. Many increasingly personal questions, and the necessity to bore into parts of emotional and mental state than is comfortable for most. For many, if not the majority, having a counselor help with this will be greatly beneficial and cut down on the time it takes to run through the process considerably. 

Third, we work to understand that everyone is going through something and the concept of normal is more abstract idea than specific reality.

When we take this to heart it's much easier to reduce our own shame because we acknowledge that everyone struggles with something. That our struggles are different but not necessarily any better or worse than those of others. That we can learn from one another and adapt those lessons to fit what we need. And as we do, the shame of our own limitation(s) will begin to reduce.

We recognize and understand that social media is not real life. 

This is a huge one. People use social media like a highlight real. I'm guilty of it at times and I actively try not to be. In consuming such, we begin to believe that others live grandiose and perfect lives that never involve struggle and strife. But the reality is, it's simply not the case. Some don't post their negatives because they're chasing likes while some only post negative for the same reason. Some don't post struggle because they're trying to be overly positive. And still others don't post struggles because they fear, you guessed it, shame. No one wants to be shamed, never mind publicly and to open oneself up to such is incredibly stressful.

Shame is an emotion most will feel at some point and others will feel often. We have the ability to navigate and work both with and around it but it must be acknowledge and made real. My shames are mine and yours are yours but by discussing them, by writing about them, we have the ability to let others know they're not alone. And when we're not alone, we have more strength, more ability, to tell ourselves that it's OK to be have pieces of ourselves that are broken. That just because we sometimes need some duct tape and tie wraps to hold ourselves together it doesn't mean that we're not whole. 

Because if you're alive and you're progressing forward, through the pain, through the discomfort, through the mental mind field that is injury and illness, you're not shame; You're Admiration.