Sunday, April 26, 2015

Alcohol Use After Traumatic Brain Injury



Quite a lot of people have emailed me since my crowdfunding campaign went live and news of my book has been made public.  They are all people who either have a TBI or are caregivers of someone who has a TBI.  About 95% of the adult TBI survivors who have emailed me have had an alcohol problem post TBI and I want to share with you why I believe that is, at least why it was in my case.

Living with a TBI is scary.  It is scary because your brain cannot process too much stimuli.  So crowds, noisy places, bright lights and confined spaces cause severe anxiety and panic.

When you are social what do you do?  You go out to restaurants, bars, clubs, etc.  Places that are noisy and often have loud music.  Places that sometimes have a lot of blinking lights like at a dance club.  Small, confined places where a lot of people who are strangers go.  I mean, what is the point of trying to be social if you go to an unpopular place where hardly anyone else goes.  Even if a venue is considered big, such as a large restaurant or night club, they are most likely enclosed spaces with one main entrance and exit.  Walking into that situation for someone with a TBI is frightening and having to stay there for a long period of time is enough to cause a major panic attack.

For me, my heart pounds, I sweat profusely and I feel like I cannot breathe.  I also fear that I am going to lose the people I am with.  Those familiar people are my life jacket and I am drowning.

When I moved back to San Francisco after I finished my rehabilitation in New York, and started working again, I started having a very social life.  It was the dot com era when everyone was making decent money, working hard and partying harder.  I was a single female in my late 20’s and I desperately wanted to feel normal again.  

For all intent and purposes, I was completely healed; there was nothing wrong with me.  Maybe I had a limp, some scars and facial palsy but I could walk, I could talk, I was able to take care of myself.  I was healed, or so I thought.

I started working at an up and coming internet technology company where the mean employee age was probably 33.  The company was full of young, single and adventurous employees.  Company sponsored happy hours occurred several times a week.  

I really liked the people I worked with; they were friendly, smart and really funny.  I wanted to fit in so badly.  I didn't have many friends left in San Francisco because most of them either forgot about me after I got out of the hospital and relocated to NY to do my rehabilitation or, because they weren't true friends to begin with.  So in order to make new friends I became social, again.  I joined the crew from work and started going to the happy hours.

The only way that I could control my anxiety and the panic of having to be in an enclosed, noisy place with so many people was to drink alcohol.  The alcohol calmed me down, put me at ease.  Red wine was my drink of choice and the more social I became, the more wine I drank and the more wine I drank; the higher my tolerance level went up, requiring me to drink more in order to feel calm and relaxed.  So you can see the pattern.  I would have been a prime target for Bill Cosby.

I quit drinking 3 years ago.  Now, I rarely go out socially.  I NEVER go out to bars or clubs.  I only go out to restaurants that I am familiar with, I avoid parties where I will not know the majority of the people, even with my husband, Tony, by my side.  It causes issues in my marriage because Tony is often left having to go out by himself because I just can't go.

Even when I do a triathlon or marathon I get panic attacks.  The only thing that saves me is the fact that I am outside.  I also always stay towards the perimeter of the crowds where I can easily escape if I need to.  

During the Ironman 70.3 in Augusta in both 2013 and 2014, I had several panic attacks because the number of participants.  During the swim portion, people were swimming so close to me, kicking and punching me in order to pass me.  A few even swam right over me.  It was every man and woman for themselves.  The last time I did that swim, I had to swim over to a kayaker and hold onto the kayak while I tried to calm myself down from my panic attack.  It took me 10 minutes to calm down and get the nerve up to continue.  I even had to unzip my wetsuit because I couldn't breathe; it felt as if it was crushing my chest.  I never want to do that swim ever again.

If I have to go out now, to a place that causes me any anxiety, I have to prepare myself for it days in advance.  Some places I can only stay for several minutes.  Sometimes I just need to go outside, catch my breath and regain my composure.  Even in some stores I cannot stay more than 10 minutes.  Old Navy is one of them.  Something about the layout, the displays, the size and the crowds frighten me.  Costco is another one.  If I have to go to Costco, I will only go on a weekday when the crowds are less.

I am antisocial and an introvert.  Home is safe.  Home is familiar.  I know everyone in my home.  I like my home.  It has a lot of windows, I can see the mountains, I have a secure backyard where I spend a great deal of time.  I can breathe in my home.  Social media is how I make friends now.  It's sad, but most of my best friends live across the country, some I see only once a year if I am lucky.

The fear I feel is very real.  It is the kind of fear that cause people to commit suicide.  The fear makes me feel as if I am being buried alive.  If you knew you were going to die a slow, painful and agonizing death and there was zero chance of surviving, I mean it would take the miracle of all miracles to save you, however, you are given the opportunity to end your life quickly and painlessly, which would you choose?  That is what goes through the mind of someone who contemplates suicide.  So when you question how anyone can take their own life, I want you to keep that in mind.  No amount of money, fame, or physical beauty in the world can end your slow suffering.

That is the invisible wound that is called Traumatic BrainInjury (TBI) and we need to find a way to help those who are suffering from it!  I hope by sharing my struggles and how I am able to manage my TBI, I will be able to save even one life.  I want to be that miracle of all miracles. 

If you know someone who is suffering from a TBI, pick-up the phone, send an email or a text and just let them know that you love them.  Love is a powerful drug, share it.

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