The Paralysis
relaxingpiano
Registrant
I shared this on my blog site this week and I thought I would share it all with you. It is a little long so it might take some time to read but it is what I went through. It is now a big part of my continued healing especially in the somatic therapy work I'm doing. Feel free to ask any questions of me on this if you want. I just met one other person who has been through this and that is the only person I've ever found since it happened. It is very rare!
----------------------------------------
The Paralysis
I had a series of events starting in 1990 that included changing jobs twice in a 1 year time frame, moving from one part of the country to another, dating a girl and breaking up with her as we went on a cruise together (of course hiding the fact that I was not attracted to girls), taking a job in sales that I literally hated, then taking a job with a company that dumped so much pressure and responsibility on me, than dealing with a fire in one of the farms I managed only to have to deal with the aftermath of it. I can still to this day recall that entire event along with the smells of burnt flesh on the pigs. It was the straw that broke the camels back so to speak.
At this time, I began experiencing pain and stiffness throughout my body. Things like a sore back, a stiff neck. So I began to see a chiropractor and while it helped temporarily, it didn't take long before I'd get back home and the pains would be back because I would be immersed in all the shit going on in my life. But I continued to do this while I was working 16 hours a day, almost 7 days a week. Nope, I didn't turn to alcohol or drugs like many would have done, I just became a workaholic. It happened before I realized it.
So the weekend when things went from bad to worse on me, I was out inspecting a farm on that Saturday. My body was a little achy but no more than it had been. Than on Sunday I went to church. This Sunday I wasn't scheduled to play the piano which was a nice break and so I just enjoyed the worship service. However, my back began hurting intensely while I was there and I grew very tired. When the service was over, I was invited to eat lunch with some people but declined and went home to rest. For the afternoon I enjoyed my nap on the couch. It was a warm sunny peaceful day and the rest felt so good, so needed although my mind knew there were many things I had to get done and I couldn't afford to waste all this time.
A couple of hours later, I woke up feeling so much better - or so I thought.
Sitting up on the couch, I decided it was time to get up. And as normally as anyone would do, I began to stand up. The only thing though, I was met with a thud as I fell to the floor. Thinking that maybe I just hadnt fully woken up from my sleep, I sat there for a minute before crawling back on the couch. Then after a few moments went by, I decided to try again. So being a little more careful this time, I began to stand up and what do you know, THUD, I hit the damn floor again! Now, talk about feeling shocked and surprised as hell would be stating the obvious. I believe I tried a couple more times after that getting the same results.
Some of this becomes a little blurry from this point out because I was in an out of complete consciousness at this point. It was almost like I was living a life that I could not connect with. My mind was active but it wasnt attached to what was going on.
Because I didnt know what to do, I decided to try and reach the chiropractor about what was happening. He had me immediately come in and meet him at his office. Of course that was not easy in itself because I had to find someone that could get me there as my legs wouldnt hold me up very good. A good friend that I worked with came over and helped get me to the doctors office. When the doctor did x-rays, he saw tiny spots that he was quite concerned about. At my begging and insistence, he did give me a clue as to why he was concerned because what he saw was associated with MS. I was at the right age for something like this to happen I found out after all I was only 25 years old. So he sent me home, told me to try and relax and he would make an appointment with a Neurologist as soon as he could get me in.
My friend than took me back home and I spent the next few hours and next day crawling around my two story apartment. The only way I could get upstairs was to sit down on the steps and pull myself up one step at a time. Of course everything I did wore me out intensely and so I grew very tired. I think the initial appointment with the neurologist was made a couple of days later and in the mean time, my place of employment had been notified of what was going on. I remember downplaying it a lot and making it sound as if it was just a back ache. You know, no major thing. Ill be ok! After all, throughout my life I had been taught that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Guys just dont show their weaknesses either! Youve got to show that youre a man! Damn it!
After going to the neurologist, he got the same impression as the chiropractor but still was not certain that was what it was. And so as a precaution, he put me on some type of steroid type pack that I was to begin taking. The doctor scheduled me for an MRI the following day. This time my friends took me back to their apartment instead of letting me stay by myself even though I insisted I was ok and could manage. My friends contacted my parents who drove a truck and so then my parents began making the trip to where I was living in Arkansas.
In the meantime, I began taking the medication and it had a violent reaction with me where I got severe hot flashes and began having seizure type episodes. Of course the seizures could have just been a logical progression with the disorder I was suffering from and I will never know for sure. However, the fear of losing control mounted with the fear and what my body was experiencing was too much. I would have times where I would just blank out, go out of consciousness almost like a state of fainting but more severe.
My friends took me to the MRI the following day which was about an hours drive away. That was enough to exhaust me. I can remember that first MRI feeling so afraid inside that chamber and wanting them to get me out of there. The noise inside that thing was so intense to me. I really dont believe anything became of that MRI and it didnt show any conclusive evidence on what was going on.
At that point, no doctor knew what to do and I was just sort of left there to wait for something to come along that would explain this. It was a very difficult time not knowing what was going to happen next or if I would be alive in a few days or if I had MS or what I had. There were absolutely no answers. No hospital would admit me because they didnt know what to do with me so they just continued to tell me to go home and rest. How absurd!
And as the days progressed, my body grew worse. The pseudo seizures increased and came in waves. Id sleep more than I would be awake. Very few muscles in my body had the strength to function normally. I had no desire to keep going at this point but there were people around me so I couldnt end anything and even if I wanted to end things, I wouldnt have had the strength. So for the next few days, I sat in silence. Not being able to communicate very well or put thoughts together in my mind and feeling like I was all alone, lost in a world that I once knew. I couldnt do basic things like get myself to the bathroom and that is one of the most embarrassing things in life to have someone help you get on and off a toilet especially when it is your own father who well violated me in many ways as a kid. And to try and take a shower was next to impossible. I remember a good friend coming over and helping lift me into the shower. Again, having someone seeing me naked at this point was not a good thing for me as it triggered so much to my past. But I had no choice. I could do nothing on my own and yet the hospitals didnt want me. Doctors didnt know what to do. They just let me suffer and left me all alone to fend for myself.
I know that my parents and friends were at a loss. They didnt know what to do. My father wanted to take me home to their family doctor. And as I heard this conversation, it put the fear of God into me because there was no way I could go back and live with that evil monster. After what he did to me growing up, there was just no fucking way! And my body at that point began to go into heavy convulsions and seizures. My body became something that I didnt recognize. I wanted to die. I didnt want to live. I just wanted everything to end.
The next thing I know is that my parents had called 9-1-1 and an ambulance came and rushed me to the hospital as everyone was thinking I was dying right before their eyes. I can remember the ride to the hospital, scared out of my freaking mind. Because part of me was saying, why in the fuck are you taking me in this ambulance no one seems to know what to do anyway. And the threat at the time was of my Dad taking me home with them. Once I got in the ambulance, the threat was diminished. By the time I got to the hospital my body had settled down probably from the diminished threat and pure exhaustion. When the doctors came around to the gurney I had been lying on for what seemed like hours, all my vital signs and readings were good. They once again declared nothing is wrong with you. You can go home now. So once again, no one knew and I was all alone, left to feel like that reject my father always called me feeling like a freak in life and not wanting to live. God how I wanted to die but I wasnt supposed to ever think about that. It was true though.
Fortunately and somehow I think the chiropractor got my family in touch with a neurologist in Little Rock. I cant even remember her name right now but I saw a compassion and understanding in her eyes. It was as if she saw something no one else saw. However she immediately called the hospital and told them she was going to admit me. Finally damn it finally someone was taking this seriously. She ran all kinds of tests on me including another MRI, extensive blood work and then a test which I hated where they put tiny needles with electrical impulses into your muscles.
That was an experience in itself and I can remember trying to get the person doing the test to stop for a moment because it hurt so much but the lady just kept sticking the god dammed needles in me. The next thing I remember was waking up to a bunch of white coated people ready to use those electrical shock pads on me. My blood pressure had dropped so low and they thought I was dying. I think I surprised them when I woke up and said, whats going on?
Test after test that was run, was inconclusive. The final test that the doctor was going to do was a spinal tap but she was reluctant to do this and yet the needle lay on the table next to my hospital bed for a long time. It freaked me out and kept me so afraid of it. Finally she came in one day to do her rounds and we talked. Well we talked as much as I could because words were very difficult for me to say. She asked me if anything bad had ever happened to me and very slowly I got the word yes out. She then asked me if I wanted to talk to someone and again very slowly I got the word yes out. She knew, I knew, that there was more to all of this. The next day a psychiatrist came in and began talking to me. I was afraid of him because I had been taught to fear people who wanted to talk to you. I had been taught that in some very dramatic ways. I had seen people beat for talking to someone. But I knew deep down that this horrible shit I harbored in my life could no longer be hidden. It was a poison that was consuming every part of my life.
The day I began to talk to the psychiatrist was the day that I first took a step on my own. Let me repeat that. The day I began to talk to the psychiatrist was the day that I first took a step on my own. And I will never forget that because I dont believe the two events happened by chance. I believed then and still do that they were connected. It took time for me to begin walking enough to do it on my own. They also helped show me ways to roll over and sit up because sitting up in bed was next to impossible for me. The more I talked with the psychiatrist the more my body began to function again. I went from days earlier in the hospital being asked what my name was and not having an answer to being able to hold a limited conversation. I went from days earlier not being able to bathe myself or feed myself to using my arms to accomplish this even if it took me forever to do these tasks. I went from not being able to get out of bed by myself to just the bathroom to finally being able to do this. And I went from absolute no feeling in my legs when someone touched me to being able to once again feel my extremities. And I actually began having a desire to eat, to want to live and to begin to fight for my life.
I still remember to this day staring at the hospital room ceiling thinking, Im 25 years old, is this all I can expect out of life, to finish my life living like a vegetable?
In the course of this, the psychiatrist wanted to get me to a psychiatric hospital where I could go for further treatment. My parents werent too keen on this and I believe they were silently hoping that I would not agree to it although they were being somewhat silent. It helped too that in this time, they ended up doing some short trips with their truck. I really didnt need them around as they were the source of so much of what was going on. But I also knew that I took my first step when I talked to the psychiatrist and this was an important realization. It gave me just enough power to be able to stand up to my parents which I had never done in my entire life and make the decision to get the help I needed.
Soon I was checked out of the hospital and went to a psychiatric hospital where I remember spending the first weekend sitting out in my wheel chair outside, listening to the birds, feeling the sun, seeing the beautiful trees around me. I couldnt believe all of this because I had shut all of this stuff out in my life.
Slowly I began regaining my strength and bodily functions as I began sitting through intense therapy sessions and learning for the first time in my life what relaxation was about. It was also during this time that my parents when asked by one of my psychologists to come and have family sessions refused. They wanted no part of it. So I was encouraged to write a letter to them and when I did, I didnt hear any more from them. The letter wasnt a mean one either but it was truthful. When my parents heard something they didnt want to hear, they would just shut you out. However, I was determined to continue healing.
During this time, no one really knew how to get me physically functioning back to normal. Physical therapy included taking a walk when I felt like it and riding a stationery bicycle when the physical therapist was there for an appointment. The rest of it I had to do on my own and find my way through it. No one had a clue how to deal with this. I was given psychological test after test to determine things about me and many people came to study my condition. I found out later that this is a very rare condition which Freud coined a term for it, hysterical paralysis or a conversion disorder. There is usually some event or events that occur and by refusing to deal with the events, the trauma is stored within the body until it shuts it down. Ive had many events in my life that gave the paralysis the fuel and of course I could never seek help so it remained locked in me until my body could take no more. The traumatic events included emotional, verbal and sexual abuse. And for me, it didnt just happen once or twice, I endured these things on a daily basis from the time I was born until the time I went to college and left home.
In days after the hospital I ended up going on medication for depression and anxiety. I could write so much about all of this but I struggled through these things in some very rough ways. It wasnt an easy road and on top of it my parents failed to acknowledge my birthday that year which was extremely unusual. However a week or two after my birthday, I received one of the worst letters from them I had ever gotten and it tore my world to shreds.
It has taken me many years to fully regain much of my life back. Most people cant see the things in me that I still struggle with but I know they are there. My memory has never fully recovered yet from these events but it has improved. I struggle from time to time with legs that dont want to function but normally now these times are short lived. Ive been through many years of counseling trying to put my life back together and deal in everyday reality.
Fortunately my healing journey has taken me to bodywork and somatic therapy. For that is where the true healing has now taken place and with each release of the painful trauma stored within my body, I am reclaiming more of myself every day. Im for the first time in my life reclaiming my power, my body and hope that I can recover from this.
----------------------------------------
The Paralysis
I had a series of events starting in 1990 that included changing jobs twice in a 1 year time frame, moving from one part of the country to another, dating a girl and breaking up with her as we went on a cruise together (of course hiding the fact that I was not attracted to girls), taking a job in sales that I literally hated, then taking a job with a company that dumped so much pressure and responsibility on me, than dealing with a fire in one of the farms I managed only to have to deal with the aftermath of it. I can still to this day recall that entire event along with the smells of burnt flesh on the pigs. It was the straw that broke the camels back so to speak.
At this time, I began experiencing pain and stiffness throughout my body. Things like a sore back, a stiff neck. So I began to see a chiropractor and while it helped temporarily, it didn't take long before I'd get back home and the pains would be back because I would be immersed in all the shit going on in my life. But I continued to do this while I was working 16 hours a day, almost 7 days a week. Nope, I didn't turn to alcohol or drugs like many would have done, I just became a workaholic. It happened before I realized it.
So the weekend when things went from bad to worse on me, I was out inspecting a farm on that Saturday. My body was a little achy but no more than it had been. Than on Sunday I went to church. This Sunday I wasn't scheduled to play the piano which was a nice break and so I just enjoyed the worship service. However, my back began hurting intensely while I was there and I grew very tired. When the service was over, I was invited to eat lunch with some people but declined and went home to rest. For the afternoon I enjoyed my nap on the couch. It was a warm sunny peaceful day and the rest felt so good, so needed although my mind knew there were many things I had to get done and I couldn't afford to waste all this time.
A couple of hours later, I woke up feeling so much better - or so I thought.
Sitting up on the couch, I decided it was time to get up. And as normally as anyone would do, I began to stand up. The only thing though, I was met with a thud as I fell to the floor. Thinking that maybe I just hadnt fully woken up from my sleep, I sat there for a minute before crawling back on the couch. Then after a few moments went by, I decided to try again. So being a little more careful this time, I began to stand up and what do you know, THUD, I hit the damn floor again! Now, talk about feeling shocked and surprised as hell would be stating the obvious. I believe I tried a couple more times after that getting the same results.
Some of this becomes a little blurry from this point out because I was in an out of complete consciousness at this point. It was almost like I was living a life that I could not connect with. My mind was active but it wasnt attached to what was going on.
Because I didnt know what to do, I decided to try and reach the chiropractor about what was happening. He had me immediately come in and meet him at his office. Of course that was not easy in itself because I had to find someone that could get me there as my legs wouldnt hold me up very good. A good friend that I worked with came over and helped get me to the doctors office. When the doctor did x-rays, he saw tiny spots that he was quite concerned about. At my begging and insistence, he did give me a clue as to why he was concerned because what he saw was associated with MS. I was at the right age for something like this to happen I found out after all I was only 25 years old. So he sent me home, told me to try and relax and he would make an appointment with a Neurologist as soon as he could get me in.
My friend than took me back home and I spent the next few hours and next day crawling around my two story apartment. The only way I could get upstairs was to sit down on the steps and pull myself up one step at a time. Of course everything I did wore me out intensely and so I grew very tired. I think the initial appointment with the neurologist was made a couple of days later and in the mean time, my place of employment had been notified of what was going on. I remember downplaying it a lot and making it sound as if it was just a back ache. You know, no major thing. Ill be ok! After all, throughout my life I had been taught that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Guys just dont show their weaknesses either! Youve got to show that youre a man! Damn it!
After going to the neurologist, he got the same impression as the chiropractor but still was not certain that was what it was. And so as a precaution, he put me on some type of steroid type pack that I was to begin taking. The doctor scheduled me for an MRI the following day. This time my friends took me back to their apartment instead of letting me stay by myself even though I insisted I was ok and could manage. My friends contacted my parents who drove a truck and so then my parents began making the trip to where I was living in Arkansas.
In the meantime, I began taking the medication and it had a violent reaction with me where I got severe hot flashes and began having seizure type episodes. Of course the seizures could have just been a logical progression with the disorder I was suffering from and I will never know for sure. However, the fear of losing control mounted with the fear and what my body was experiencing was too much. I would have times where I would just blank out, go out of consciousness almost like a state of fainting but more severe.
My friends took me to the MRI the following day which was about an hours drive away. That was enough to exhaust me. I can remember that first MRI feeling so afraid inside that chamber and wanting them to get me out of there. The noise inside that thing was so intense to me. I really dont believe anything became of that MRI and it didnt show any conclusive evidence on what was going on.
At that point, no doctor knew what to do and I was just sort of left there to wait for something to come along that would explain this. It was a very difficult time not knowing what was going to happen next or if I would be alive in a few days or if I had MS or what I had. There were absolutely no answers. No hospital would admit me because they didnt know what to do with me so they just continued to tell me to go home and rest. How absurd!
And as the days progressed, my body grew worse. The pseudo seizures increased and came in waves. Id sleep more than I would be awake. Very few muscles in my body had the strength to function normally. I had no desire to keep going at this point but there were people around me so I couldnt end anything and even if I wanted to end things, I wouldnt have had the strength. So for the next few days, I sat in silence. Not being able to communicate very well or put thoughts together in my mind and feeling like I was all alone, lost in a world that I once knew. I couldnt do basic things like get myself to the bathroom and that is one of the most embarrassing things in life to have someone help you get on and off a toilet especially when it is your own father who well violated me in many ways as a kid. And to try and take a shower was next to impossible. I remember a good friend coming over and helping lift me into the shower. Again, having someone seeing me naked at this point was not a good thing for me as it triggered so much to my past. But I had no choice. I could do nothing on my own and yet the hospitals didnt want me. Doctors didnt know what to do. They just let me suffer and left me all alone to fend for myself.
I know that my parents and friends were at a loss. They didnt know what to do. My father wanted to take me home to their family doctor. And as I heard this conversation, it put the fear of God into me because there was no way I could go back and live with that evil monster. After what he did to me growing up, there was just no fucking way! And my body at that point began to go into heavy convulsions and seizures. My body became something that I didnt recognize. I wanted to die. I didnt want to live. I just wanted everything to end.
The next thing I know is that my parents had called 9-1-1 and an ambulance came and rushed me to the hospital as everyone was thinking I was dying right before their eyes. I can remember the ride to the hospital, scared out of my freaking mind. Because part of me was saying, why in the fuck are you taking me in this ambulance no one seems to know what to do anyway. And the threat at the time was of my Dad taking me home with them. Once I got in the ambulance, the threat was diminished. By the time I got to the hospital my body had settled down probably from the diminished threat and pure exhaustion. When the doctors came around to the gurney I had been lying on for what seemed like hours, all my vital signs and readings were good. They once again declared nothing is wrong with you. You can go home now. So once again, no one knew and I was all alone, left to feel like that reject my father always called me feeling like a freak in life and not wanting to live. God how I wanted to die but I wasnt supposed to ever think about that. It was true though.
Fortunately and somehow I think the chiropractor got my family in touch with a neurologist in Little Rock. I cant even remember her name right now but I saw a compassion and understanding in her eyes. It was as if she saw something no one else saw. However she immediately called the hospital and told them she was going to admit me. Finally damn it finally someone was taking this seriously. She ran all kinds of tests on me including another MRI, extensive blood work and then a test which I hated where they put tiny needles with electrical impulses into your muscles.
That was an experience in itself and I can remember trying to get the person doing the test to stop for a moment because it hurt so much but the lady just kept sticking the god dammed needles in me. The next thing I remember was waking up to a bunch of white coated people ready to use those electrical shock pads on me. My blood pressure had dropped so low and they thought I was dying. I think I surprised them when I woke up and said, whats going on?
Test after test that was run, was inconclusive. The final test that the doctor was going to do was a spinal tap but she was reluctant to do this and yet the needle lay on the table next to my hospital bed for a long time. It freaked me out and kept me so afraid of it. Finally she came in one day to do her rounds and we talked. Well we talked as much as I could because words were very difficult for me to say. She asked me if anything bad had ever happened to me and very slowly I got the word yes out. She then asked me if I wanted to talk to someone and again very slowly I got the word yes out. She knew, I knew, that there was more to all of this. The next day a psychiatrist came in and began talking to me. I was afraid of him because I had been taught to fear people who wanted to talk to you. I had been taught that in some very dramatic ways. I had seen people beat for talking to someone. But I knew deep down that this horrible shit I harbored in my life could no longer be hidden. It was a poison that was consuming every part of my life.
The day I began to talk to the psychiatrist was the day that I first took a step on my own. Let me repeat that. The day I began to talk to the psychiatrist was the day that I first took a step on my own. And I will never forget that because I dont believe the two events happened by chance. I believed then and still do that they were connected. It took time for me to begin walking enough to do it on my own. They also helped show me ways to roll over and sit up because sitting up in bed was next to impossible for me. The more I talked with the psychiatrist the more my body began to function again. I went from days earlier in the hospital being asked what my name was and not having an answer to being able to hold a limited conversation. I went from days earlier not being able to bathe myself or feed myself to using my arms to accomplish this even if it took me forever to do these tasks. I went from not being able to get out of bed by myself to just the bathroom to finally being able to do this. And I went from absolute no feeling in my legs when someone touched me to being able to once again feel my extremities. And I actually began having a desire to eat, to want to live and to begin to fight for my life.
I still remember to this day staring at the hospital room ceiling thinking, Im 25 years old, is this all I can expect out of life, to finish my life living like a vegetable?
In the course of this, the psychiatrist wanted to get me to a psychiatric hospital where I could go for further treatment. My parents werent too keen on this and I believe they were silently hoping that I would not agree to it although they were being somewhat silent. It helped too that in this time, they ended up doing some short trips with their truck. I really didnt need them around as they were the source of so much of what was going on. But I also knew that I took my first step when I talked to the psychiatrist and this was an important realization. It gave me just enough power to be able to stand up to my parents which I had never done in my entire life and make the decision to get the help I needed.
Soon I was checked out of the hospital and went to a psychiatric hospital where I remember spending the first weekend sitting out in my wheel chair outside, listening to the birds, feeling the sun, seeing the beautiful trees around me. I couldnt believe all of this because I had shut all of this stuff out in my life.
Slowly I began regaining my strength and bodily functions as I began sitting through intense therapy sessions and learning for the first time in my life what relaxation was about. It was also during this time that my parents when asked by one of my psychologists to come and have family sessions refused. They wanted no part of it. So I was encouraged to write a letter to them and when I did, I didnt hear any more from them. The letter wasnt a mean one either but it was truthful. When my parents heard something they didnt want to hear, they would just shut you out. However, I was determined to continue healing.
During this time, no one really knew how to get me physically functioning back to normal. Physical therapy included taking a walk when I felt like it and riding a stationery bicycle when the physical therapist was there for an appointment. The rest of it I had to do on my own and find my way through it. No one had a clue how to deal with this. I was given psychological test after test to determine things about me and many people came to study my condition. I found out later that this is a very rare condition which Freud coined a term for it, hysterical paralysis or a conversion disorder. There is usually some event or events that occur and by refusing to deal with the events, the trauma is stored within the body until it shuts it down. Ive had many events in my life that gave the paralysis the fuel and of course I could never seek help so it remained locked in me until my body could take no more. The traumatic events included emotional, verbal and sexual abuse. And for me, it didnt just happen once or twice, I endured these things on a daily basis from the time I was born until the time I went to college and left home.
In days after the hospital I ended up going on medication for depression and anxiety. I could write so much about all of this but I struggled through these things in some very rough ways. It wasnt an easy road and on top of it my parents failed to acknowledge my birthday that year which was extremely unusual. However a week or two after my birthday, I received one of the worst letters from them I had ever gotten and it tore my world to shreds.
It has taken me many years to fully regain much of my life back. Most people cant see the things in me that I still struggle with but I know they are there. My memory has never fully recovered yet from these events but it has improved. I struggle from time to time with legs that dont want to function but normally now these times are short lived. Ive been through many years of counseling trying to put my life back together and deal in everyday reality.
Fortunately my healing journey has taken me to bodywork and somatic therapy. For that is where the true healing has now taken place and with each release of the painful trauma stored within my body, I am reclaiming more of myself every day. Im for the first time in my life reclaiming my power, my body and hope that I can recover from this.