Often when we think of the brain, Sci-Fi narratives come to mind.

We’ll often consider it more plausible to suggest we use nearly none of our brain than to admit not learning about its fuctions makes us feel like we don’t use it. Broken down, this means that, often, because we don’t know why something happens, we assume that it must not be a neccessity. To be clear, we use our whole brains, and most of its fuctions are autonomic or automatic. Thinking anything less is fun, though.

Talk to any neurologist, and their opening comment, while often overlooked, will relate to how they love being able to answer the things no one realizes they needed to become consciously aware of.

For instance, my neurologist began my neurological exam with an offhanded remark on how Sci-Fi narratives need to stop suggesting villany is correlated with how much of the brain we use. He saw my age and willingness to show up in a T-shirt and yoga pants, assumed I liked Scarlett Johansson, and that I would have seen her movie, with the integral premise being that humans use only 10% of their brain. His comment was something along the lines of how people would truly be flabbergasted at how little functionality 10% of the brain truly suggests. And while most people are not interactive enough to respond to a call-out on flawed world-building, I laughed in response, agreeing that 10% utilization of ANY organ would be horrendous.

With one simple skill of listening, I was able to both show my human side, but also demonstrate an understanding of his expertise. This is inherent to connection and communication with others. He appreciated my wit, and I built trust in him from then, and he seemed to take me more seriously as a patient from that one comment.

And yet, I was unable that time to fully express that I was there to find some resolution and pain management for severe physical abuse I had endured. My body was constantly shaking and I was dizzy, confused, unable to remember a lot, and sometimes couldn’t even form words very well. I explained how horribly everything hurt and was given an MRI when I mentioned that I would go into seizure-like movements when I slept.

The MRI at that time seemed really just to show enlarged tonsils.

I asked if there was anything more that showed up, and basically I was told that the best course of action would be to get the tonsils removed. It should help a lot of the head pain and would likely remove other symptoms I had been describing.

The fight to get a tonsilectomy was ridiculous. It took about six months, talking to three doctors, and then only resolved the symptoms for about three months. It was okay.

But then my brain suddenly was getting enough oxygen back in it to kind of restore back to the same trauma that it was masking. The brain does miraculous things to protect you when you’re being so harmed that you just need to be safe. And so it was that. I went from feeling nothing to having some of the worst head pain and symptoms in my life.

I moved states and went to another neurologist.

I wrote down the history of the head traumas and abuse I endured that would be relevant to his field. He ordered another EEG and MRI. Those were on the same day and I was so nervous about them and I guess it was okay that I was.

The EEG triggered a trauma response in me. The test lasted roughly from 10-11:30 AM, and after I got home, I passed out from 12-5:30 PM. The flashing lights startled me in ways I can’t quite explain, but the head trauma was not a fan of the stimulus.

Then the MRI startled me again. This test was from 10-10:30 PM, and basically kept me up for a few hours, shaking and scared. The loud, rocking noises and beeping sounds were so much for me that there was almost nothing more I could handle.

I got a copy of the MRI, and was able to look through it.

It confirmed my fear: severe hypoxic brain injury. This is a traumatic brain injury resulting from depriving the brain of oxygen for an extended period of time. I don’t really know if the intial MRI did or didn’t show this (I never did ask, and they may have logically assumed the hypoxia was due to my swollen tonsils). But I saw it, clear as day, on the recent scans. Even someone who doesn’t know much knew that was present.

But the scan made me scared and terrified.

I felt like that girl who was only able to use part of her brain. I had been describing, for so long, that I was in severe pain from something. And because the words could never escape that I had left a very abusive partner, there was no way to get that talked of. The symptoms were all attributed to other things, not in a mean or bad way, just in the way of my brain not being able to function enough to form the words to get the help it needed.

People often forget that surviving abuse means not being able to talk about it.

I freeze up a lot and get clammy when people mention it.

I frequently need to write it down because otherwise I can’t get through any of it without breaking down or having a complete break in reality. My brain was damaged in a lot of it, and people who don’t know me very well don’t get to hear my story. I don’t often get to talk about myself with a lot of people. It makes them feel uncomfortable. I support them, but the reciprocity is nearly always denied. It’s just the way some people are.

The brain, my way, is one that has had to figure out a lot on its own.

Because a lot of people are really mean to me in how they respond to me asking for reciprocal friendship and kindness. I am held to impossible standards (being a victim, being a therapist) by so many people I encounter that it’s ludicrous.

I am first and foremost a human being.

People act in ways to me that I am told are “inappropriate” to act to them.

I give grace and space for understanding, but at one point, it’s bullying.

My history of abuse is not something to mock me for or expect more from me for having gone through. People who do this to me are misunderstanding how to support victims when they say it violated their boundaries when I stood up for myself. It’s not violating a boundary to ask to be treated like a human being. That in its own right is bullying.

People attend all sorts of unethical Christian-based programs that skew the narrative to teach that someone standing up for themselves, if you don’t like it, is a violation of your boundaries and is thus a way to berate someone for having self-respect. It’s exactly what churches allow pastors to do to people who call them out on their bullshit.

If someone does this to you, don’t let it harm you.

And as a survivor of really bad abuse, it can be really painful.

But it’s possible to see it as victim-blaming and violence against you.

XOXO,

Dorothy B.