Fishy truck ride
I’m so excited to go on our fishing trip. I’m even looking forward to the 6 hour drive(I’m lying). I absolutely love to fish (the truth). Plus, my husband and youngest daughter are going and my dad will be there too. It’s near a place where he and I have spent alot of time. Dad with his grandparents and parents and when it was my turn, me with my grandparents. But of course, the location is a secret. Aren’t all good fishing spots a secret?
I’ve been trying to focus on the positive things about this trip for a couple of weeks. Today’s the day and I am absolutely making this into the most wonderful trip on earth and telling myself how safely we will arrive and that nothing bad will happen while we are there and we will all arrive back home safely. These are the things I say to myself to convince my fears to take a hike. Sometimes I actually yell at them. Call it crazy, psycho, neurotic, weird, whatever. I have lots of names for it. But the most important one is fear, anxiety, broken neuron pathways and PTSD. It all starts as soon as we plan a trip. This little voice in the back of my head whispers “if you get in a vehicle, you’re gonna die.”. I gently push the voice and ugly thought away. As leaving day approaches the voice gets louder. “IF YOU GET IN A VEHICLE YOU ARE GONNA DIE!” Oh Lord, here we go again. I’m not so gentle at telling it to leave. I yell back. “GET THE F#*$ OUT OF MY HEAD!” Sound a little crazy? It’s not, it’s actually strategy. Healthy, no pill, cognitive talk to get people like me thru the day. So begins the tiring battle of wrestling my PTSD and trying to just enjoy the ride.
Ever since the accident, when I get into a vehicle, or plan to get in a vehicle I have flashbacks and become terrified of getting in another car crash. Very normal for somebody who has been thru a traumatic experience of any kind. We tend to relive the experience over and over. My blinders have been removed and I know exactly what can happen to a human body and brain when you crash. I have the scars and daily struggle with a TBI as constant daily reminders. Those things will never let me forget, or be completely relaxed in a vehicle for an entire trip.
My mind says, I’m going to die, my heart says I just want to have fun and enjoy the trip. But vehicle rides, or in my case truck rides, because I don’t drive a car, and never, I repeat, never will, turn into a fun park rollercoaster ride. It’s the PTSD working overtime. Plus add in the broken neuron pathway between my eye and my brain that tells my brain the direction I’m going. When I am in motion the signal gets mixed up and it makes me feel like I’m constantly sliding to the right, out of control, even when I am going straight and often when I am completely still. I have spent hours on dizzying exercises, only to be sick all day, trying to retrain my brain and build a new neuron pathway around the broken one. I’ve logged even more hours on the positive talk. It’s been worth every minute. Because it works. Most of the time. Until I’m tired or get spooked by a car pulling in front of us or some dumb move by another driver like texting while driving, or just that silly broken neuron pathway wanting to play tricks on me. Then I’m back to panick mode and the roller coaster feeling is right behind it.
I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit the chaos of what goes on when our family heads down the road. I should record it for U Tube and I would make millions. Then maybe we could laugh at it someday. It goes something like this; Dan is driving on the freeway, going 75-79 mph, because I won’t let him go any faster. Me, I’m riding along just fine. Until, all of a sudden the neuron pathway screws up, I jump while at the same time completely sucking all the available oxygen out of the truck. (In my mind we are flying off the road to our doom again)Thru tears and a full-fledged anxiety/panick attack I try to catch my breath and ask Dan to “PLEEEEEEAAASSSSSSEEE slow down!” You know, to like 10 mph. Of course Dan stays calm thru out this whole explosion going on in the seat next to him and quickly rolls down a window to replenish the oxygen level to normal. (I’m lying again) Actually, he yells, “Diane! You scared the SH!$$ out of me!” Of course I did, and I know it, along with everyone else in the vehicle. Then I sheepishly say I’m sorry even though I really can’t help it. But sometimes, no matter what I do, relaxation techniques, positive talk, and sometimes earplugs and a hood over my head, it happens anyway, it’s just the way I am now. I used to cry and be ashamed at the whole scenario until I found out about the broken neuron pathway and PTSD. Finally we all understand why I do it. Now I embrace it. So now, Dan, after he composes himself reassures me and tells me I’m ok. Katie reminds me to breathe and as soon as we can we try to laugh and keep me distracted. Anything but sedating me or drinking a couple of shots of Jack Daniels before I climb aboard. And the journey continues.
So now, along with the packing and preparations I add a heavy dose of rest and positive mental talk. I really could die at any moment. Any of us could. But I’m going to try my best to have a whole bunch of fun before I do. I refuse to stay home too scared to leave the house. I have a lot of living to do and I am going to enjoy every minute of this second chance I’ve been given. As I climb aboard my big safe truck/roller coaster ride, I smile, take a deep breath and hang on for the ride. (or…..raise my hands into the air, close my eyes and scream till it’s over!) Wish me luck! We’re headed to where the big fish are. 
our headbangers ball 