Nervous System Regulation: Before and After

Chapter Five

Nervous System: Before and After

Chapter 5

TW: trauma, childhood trauma. If this topic presents a challenge for you, perhaps this piece isn’t for you.

This is the fifth in a series where I show exactly how having a regular Nervous System Regulation (NSR) practice has affected my behavior. If you didn’t read the previous chapters, you can find it here on Substack. I would encourage you to take a peek before reading this next installment.

The discovery of how the nervous system works has been a dichotomy. On the one hand, it led me to explore myriad NSR exercises and techniques that first enabled me to create a practice and then experiment and expand. When something gets reactivated in my body, I can now respond most times rather than react. This means fewer apologies and a lot less shame. On the other, I am reminded regularly that it is a practice I will most likely need to engage in for the rest of my life.

To deconstruct the impact of trauma and the unconscious behaviors that accompany it, I offer each experience from two perspectives: how I would have (and sometimes did) handle a situation before this work and what it looks like now.

Backstory:

It’s a rainy Friday and even though I feel exhausted, I leave at 930 a.m. to pick up my mom so we can shop at two different grocery stores. The one is some place we rarely go, but they have something on sale she really wants. To economize the traveling, we’re headed to an area of town with which I’m not very familiar, but it’s the only place where both stores are near each other.

We’re heading out at this early hour because I have a virtual doctor’s appointment at 2 p.m. I feel anxious about it. After working really hard to get my blood sugar under control, the steroid shot I received for my hip a month ago threw me into a fit of “feed me Seymour” hunger for almost two weeks. Although part of me feels I’ve done my best, there is a piece that still feels guilty, like I’ve let my doctor down because my numbers are not as stable as they were a few months ago.

Before:

I study the Google map the night before to get a handle on exactly where we’re going. I’m still unable to visualize things and there are a couple of very confusing pieces. It makes me anxious. Being tired doesn’t help and I’m not in the best frame of mind when I arrive.

I let the anxiety get the best of me and am irritated at missed green lights and the need to make quick decisions about which way to go. More than one “Jesus Christ!” is uttered. My mom’s questions receive short responses. We get to the first store, and I drop her off and wait in the parking lot.

What is taking so long? She texts that she has to apply for a store loyalty card to get the sale price and there’s a line at customer service. Good God.

Finally, we’re off to the second store. I shop from my list and am done in twenty minutes. I sit on the bench near the exit and wait, scrolling on my phone. Every once in a while, I glance up at the registers to see if she’s in line. I check the time. A lot. Finally, she is finished.

The groceries in the car, we head home. After a while, I say, “I don’t remember that 7-11 on the drive here.” A minute later, I spot a sign that says Route 8 N. We’re going the wrong way. I pop a gasket. How could I have been so stupid? We turn around but I can’t let the mistake go and am even more irritated with missed green lights and idiot drivers than I was on the way there.

I don’t know how but I’m a little ahead of schedule. About fifteen minutes from her place, it comes up that she has a couple of books ready to be picked up at the library. “We’re right here,” I say. “Let’s get them now.”

Back at my mother’s place, I calculate that I should still have enough time to get home and even grab a quick bite before the appointment. I want to be calm and settled. As we’re moving the groceries from the trunk to a cart so she can get everything upstairs, my phone rings.

It’s the library. They have her phone. Now we have to go back. She can’t be without a phone and I’m going to have to race to get home. Plus, I had a book that I planned to pick up at the library near my place and now I won’t have time.

The drive back to the library is tense. She suggests that maybe someone from her building could have driven her. I jump down her throat that I don’t have time to wait while she tries to find someone only to discover no one can. I’m fuming thinking about what it’s going to take for me to make that appointment.

Furious, I silently berate myself about what an idiot I was to offer to get the books when I knew I was on a schedule. She apologizes but I’m angry and respond with something snarky. She returns my topspin lob with a wicked back hand and we’re off. The rest of the trip alternates between silence and tears.

She feels horrible, but I don’t care. I know I’m not going to make it home in time and have no idea where I’m going to go so I can take the call in private without using a ton of cell data. I’m spinning. We say a terse good-bye and stumped from the mental merry-go-round, I call the doctor’s office and cancel.

I am told I will be charged for the appointment. I drive home in tears, feeling bad about everything and knowing I owe my mother an apology. I stop for fast food and eat a lot more than I need. It’s the only way I know to get relief. After I get home, I put the groceries away and lay down to watch something on my iPad. I pass out from the excess carbs.

After:

Early morning hour grocery shopping is not ideal for me. Or my mother. But it’s a crazy week and I know we’re both doing the best we can. I admit after I pick her up that I feel anxious about not knowing where we’re going. Owning it frees me, so I don’t succumb to it.

The drive isn’t too bad, and I drop her off at the first store and research hotels on my phone for an upcoming trip to visit family. She texts that she has to wait online at customer service to get the loyalty card or she can’t get the sale price on the items she wants. I tell her no worries and continue perusing hotels.

We arrive at the next store and discover an employee has dropped an entire case of a salsa near the entrance. The whole produce section smells like a Mexican restaurant. I make a joke about the “salsa swamp,” and we laugh.

I search for the bread I want but can’t find it anywhere. I give up and move on to another aisle. Five minutes later my mom finds me and says, “Is this the bread you wanted?” How she found it I don’t know but I express my gratitude and we continue on our separate ways.

A little later, I tell her I’m finished but to take her time. I know how much she loves meandering through the grocery store. Facebook and Instagram entertain me while I wait at the bench near the door. Fifteen minutes later she’s done checking out and I offer to help bag the groceries.

Everything in the car, we head home. We talk and joke about all that’s going on in the world and I eventually realize it’s been quite a while since we left the store. I mention a 7-11 I don’t recall seeing on the way. Then I notice a sign that tells us we’re headed north, away from where she lives. I find a place to turn around and we joke about what a pair we are. I feel the pull to chastise myself. I resist.

We’re OK time wise so when she mentions some books that have come in when we’re near the library, I suggest we pick them up. She returns to the car with her books and a funny story about Karen, the librarian we both love.

After getting back to her place, she retrieves a cart and calls for the freight elevator. I ask if I can help and together, we unload the groceries from the trunk. My phone rings and I catch it just in time. It’s the library. She’s left her phone there.

I know she needs it but I am more than a little frustrated. The one contingent I put on the trip was that I be home by 1:30 to relax and get settled. The odds of that happening now are almost non-existent. And I won’t have time to pick up my library book at a different branch. I’m quiet as I work through the anger I feel and the silent internal taunts of “what about what I need?”

She mentions that maybe someone from her building could have taken her and I’m grumpy as I tell her that I don’t have time to wait to see if that was possible only to then find no one’s available. We return to silence and the discussion in my mind about where I can go and have privacy for the appointment is like a frantic tennis match. As I run through the options, I practice a neuro drill, 4-7-8 breathing, that helps me feel calmer. And safe.

The phone retrieved, we head back to her place. She has allowed my silence, which is largely due to her own nervous system regulation practice. We’ve come a long way. By the time we’re a few minutes out, conversation has returned to normal. I ask myself what I need to comfortable at my doctor’s visit and decide to drive to a Starbucks nearby to pirate their wi-fi.

She apologizes again as she shuts the car door. I tell her it’ll all work out. And it does. I am on time for the appointment. I have a great, collaborative discussion with my doctor about what’s been going on.

I stop for my library book on the way home and have a delightful conversation with the librarian, who correctly guesses my last name is Lithuanian. A patron jumps in, and we spend a few lovely minutes talking about the history of a local cemetery I recently visited.

I put the groceries away and make myself a great lunch. After I text my mom to see how she faired getting everything upstairs.

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