Re: Strange symptoms after head injury -- What's your diagnosis?On Aug 9, 7:30 pm, Radium <gluceg...@gmail . com > wrote:
> Hi:
>
> My birthdate is 10-22-83. On the end of December of '89 -- around a
> week before Christmas -- I experienced a blow to my head that cause me
> to feel like I was in a different universe.
> Symptoms because much
> worse after January of '90. The symptoms ended in the end of May of
> '91. Ironically, the headache was not severe and only lasted about a
> day after the injury.
>
> The symptoms were mostly psychological but very frightening.
> Strangely, they were scary and enjoyable at the same time.
<<snipped cuz i wanted to>>
> >From Jan of '90 to May of '91, my world was filled with these
>
> terrifying-yet-enjoyable symptoms.
>
> On 9-9-90, I had probably one of the most strange and scary symptoms.
> I was fully awake yet I got the feeling that I was going to start
> dreaming. I was the feeling I usually get if I wake up in the middle
> of the night and then experience sleep paralysis. There is a strange
> feeling I will usually get [a warning] before sleep paralysis sets in
> and I start to dream -- usually in the form of nightmares. I can't
> remember what happened on 9-9-90 after the 'warning'. I do know that
> there was no paralysis.
>
> Anyone have any similar experiences?
>
> Also, what parts of my brain would be affected to cause such long-
> lasting symptoms?
i'm re-respondin' ta yer post cuz it's been buggin' me.
first of all, you said the blow to yer head "caused" you to feel a
certain way. could it be you "decided" that was the cause and are
there other possibilities that were or might'ah been coincidental to
that blow?
OK.... i re-read Radium's post and i was rude to him in my response. i
kinda think i know why now. i think it motivated a memory that anyone
i'd have told would'ah been disinterested and judgmental.
i say that cuz i knew my parents and my friends well enuff to candidly
predict their reaction.
******************
i partied hard, a sign of the times, and learned the difference
between business and pleasure. i was damned serious about both and
scheduled both with precision and never veered. i became an
entrepreneur in the "drug arena," i had found my niche' in life.
my path to this day began there, in the drug culture. tho i learned
i merely had the eye of the tiger then. i'm quite aware that i suck at
business and became a master delegator. i learned that success, no
matter how monumental, is not permanent, and BOY, did i prove that one
a few times and now know that the experience that got me here was a
learning one. i'll always be a beginner and will never graduate
"success 101" and more importantly, have my own version of success
that's personal. who wants ta hear that mambo jambo anyway?
why'm i tellin' stuff that has nothin' to do with not bein' able to
wake up? for me, it all ties in, the pieces of this puzzle flow
naturally. to me, the whole kit'n'kaboodle that leads up to this
dorky sleep thing is all tied together at this point.
i've never talked about it, other than briefly, it was all too odd.
now i'm hoping that this "tiny issue" is presenting a big picture. i
guess i'm tellin ' way more than anyone wants to know (as usual) to
see if there's an explanation that could discern the story as relevant
to my life now, the event i've ignored, a symptom. the more i think
about it, the more i think that my life today is a huge enigma with
features of this lil story that may have been a catalyst for my so-
called life.
i was also very serious during that period of my life... no nonsense,
focused within the drug culture, involved with major players in a vast
arena of products, an inventory of major proports, and their contacts,
also vast, had to be on the ball, intuitive with contacts
internationally and otherwise that i had to "size up" on impact,
maintain a trust level, security level, and rarely spoke lest i lose
focus for one split second while conducting business as these major/
minor players stayed fucked up. i took the opportunity to acquire the
knowledge (independently) necessary to run a business. i was in my
element, i knew i'd be an entrepreneur from that experience, even
though i didn't know how to spell it or what it meant. i was simply
in my element, and dictated my future.
paradoxically, i was tha fun-lovin' life'ah tha party disco diva that
couldn't get enuff of those times which were and are to me, exquisite.
i still long for a huge disco ball. ::sobbin'::
i somehow knew, in all my goofiness, what was what, what/when was
appropriate and kept distinct boundaries. i dunno why i bring that
up, cept it kinda sums some stuff up that didn't match up to "me."
...which brings me to Radium's phenomenon (my own choice of language)
where he said he couldn't wake up, no matter how hard he tried. i've
had that issue for years. it's only during the day if i sleep, so i
don't do that.
it's like i'm in some kinda sleep awareness mode and i feel like
someone's in my house and i can't move as hard as i try nor can i
speak at all, although i feel it's in my power to do both. i wonder
if i'm moving and/or audible when i feel like that. i've slept with
my friends and boyfriends and asked them, and if i DID move or sleep,
it was so slight that it wasn't noticeable.
i tell anyone that sleeps with me that if i make a MODICUM of movement
to do anything to wake me completely up, no matter what it takes.
i've tried to explain it, and it's so weird, i feel like most people
blow it off or i'm really not at all active. when i DO wake up, it's
a strange friggin' feeling, i'm worn out, my fear's completely
subsided tho i'm dazed, a bit confused.
which brings me to the "what occurrence?"
i had an unusual experience when i was 18, so chalked it up to that.
i had my own place, car, job, etc. at that age, and lived in an apt
that was sorta party oriented. had'ah sliding glass door, "redial"
was a new invention, the ortho surgeon i dated was right across the
parkin' lot, his # was the last i'd dialed.
since trust wasn't an issue back then, i had 3 ounces of pink
peruvian, some'ah yellow crap and regular white powder and about a
zillion quaaludes in this overnight case, it wasn't mine, was holdin'
about 5-7 ounces for a friend for ONE night, after'ah huge bender, i
popped a couplah quaaludes and went ta sleep.
woke up with this black dude (i mention that cuz he was a weird bluish
color) at the end of my bed for what i remember (in this weird dream
state) for what seemed like a long time... minutes, at least. THAT was
the first time i had that feeling, this real or surreal
occurrence.
he walked up to my face, i was unable to discern, move, etc. he seemed
very ameteurish, i recall, and i was putting up NO fight. i was in
such a drug-induced stupor, it didn't occur to me to do so. he stood
by the head of my bed and attempted the ole oral thing with me and it
felt like a few minutes of me moving around, having the where with all
to say stuff to him, he wasn't foreceful, he seemed very awkward (and
the lights were all on in my apt) trying to perform a seemingly simple
task (my mouth isn't exactly a difficult target) but seemed so, should
that have actually been his goal.
i hit "redial", somehow. the guy ran, but with the overnight bag in
his hand, the one with all tha blow, pills, etc., and tha doc my
boyfriend) i'd redialed stopped him breakin' outta the slidin' glass
door and got THAT back, thank god, cuz i'd STILL be hittin' y'all up
for cash.)
he ran out the sliding glass door into my boyfriend, tripped and left
a shoe, when he could have easily ran out the side door instead of the
glass one facing the pool.
there was a friend of mine i hung with that i seem to recall planning
to stay with me that night had left, i noticed after this fiasco. i
called his best friend in tuscaloosa. he was there. his reaction was
"shock", and never offered to drive back that 45 minutes to my
apartment, never offered up a reason for leaving my apartment. i
sensed SOMETHING, i'm not sure what. a lot was cluttering my present,
at the time and now my memory, the pictures of this puzzle, my
friend's behavior, mostly, is a faint memory.
my b'friend and i couldn't put the whole picture together, but after
we called him, found him immediately, Doc related to me excuses as to
why he didn't tell me he was leaving and the whole thing was surreal.
i have no recollection of the excuses and don't remember if he
returned to my apartment after this event or not.
my apt was by the pool with a little a-frame building squarely in
front of my apt, but behind the pool, puttin' the pool between my apt
and the pool.
me and a couplah friends went in that A-frame house the next day and
my sleeping bag, pictures of me, a ton of my Buckingham Nicks, Stevie,
Boston, Kansas, albums i played incessantly were up there, along with
a stack of my modeling composites, test shots, and a few more things.
(i'm now freakin' out cuz i can't remember why my friend that went to
tuscaloosa didn't tell me he was leaving, as was the norm, but seemed
strangely nervous when we talked on the phone with him, i'm gonna
gotta sit down and remember that part now.) nah, i've tried that many
times, it ain't gonna happen. he was a good friend, one of my best,
and i don't remember seeing him again after that incident, tho it
doesn't mean i didn't. it means i don't recall seeing him ever
again. i know his name and can see his face as if it was 5 minutes
ago, and eerily, i can't recall that one integral piece of the puzzle.
now this is boring, but wtf.... but unlike our Radium, i was an
hallucenogenic freak, purple mic daily for at least 2 years and
blottered tha rest'ah tha day, occasional pane, and of course shrooms,
a pound'ah weed a month, kept a tylenol bottle full-ah blow with'ah
point'n click device on me at all times, probly didn't go 5 minutes
without hittin that thang, grocery stores, red lights, middle of sales
presentations, i had it down-pat, no "bullets" for me, and was and MDA
freakazoid. A.S chomper, but had limits. i never put anything in my
veins, (snorted white heroin a few times, along with crank (now called
crystal meth) never free-based, smoked crack, or meth (they didn't
have crack/meth in the form they have it now,)... and wasn't a drinker
at ALL back then.
i still speak with the Doc, as i do the power players i was involved
with in the drug scene after many prison stints, i recall the black
guy to a "tee," nothing seems noteworthy, as in "OMG, HOLY FUCK"-ness
(the cops, were, of course, not an option, but it was all so matter-of-
fact.
synopsis:
with all my idiosyncratic crap i have goin on, my disorders, anxiety,
etc., i somehow have no natural "fear." i don't fear anything at
all. i've had guns put to my head in my tat shops fended off tha jank
with unworthy of any white suburban chick, knives to my throat, i
could duck that shit anytime, yo! would walk in the worst of projects
at anytime a.m., unarmed with anything but my mouth, and'ah butterfly,
nada niggah jaked me. talked shit, fronted em, i didn't see death, i
never was a victim, in a way, i was nervous, but i trusted the
integrity of the streets over burbs.... lived on the streets, via
necessity, and thunk nothing of it, and had more assault arrants than
i'm proud of, 2 felonious, looked at 3 years in prison squarely in the
eye and didn't bat an eye. jail? bitches? HA ! ya fuck wimme, ya
stuck wimme. ya never saw me quiver, i betcha everyone could feel the
adrenaline, there was something inherently discombobulated with my
life, chose to, after 17 years of love/hate with tha skreets, ta find
a way to reckon with my ease of danger, and i'm turning it around,
hopefully finding peace in peace, helping others do so, and letting go
to what could have been and who i was ultimately hating enough to
position myself in the line of unnecessary fire, what WAS my death
wish?
on the other hand, i'm afraid of the sky, thunder, repercussions of a
negative article written about me, and shoes that don't fit. i freak
OUT if someone doesn't like me or laff at my jokes, or think i'm kinda
nice.
this singular occurrence, (and i question everything i recounted about
the occurrence, especially the occurance) has given me room to
question how i live my life (not the internal aspects, integrity,
relationships, etc.) so much as the nitty gritty of how i DO my life
and it's blatant happenings.
the sleep paralysis has disappeared, i suppose. it's no longer a fear
or a faint one, at best. i wonder if this event actually happened,
which seems unlikely NOT to have happened with so many details still
available with so much realism, (and NO, i don't think i was abducted
by aliens, cuz if i was all they did was inject me with fat) but is
the phenomenon of my life, a mental state that was motivated by
SOMEthing, it's purpose unknown, unless it was to keep me safe in an
arena i needed to be in to get where i am now.
i've never even told the story til now, the whole one, detailed, i
dunno why. it seems that it would be on my "repertoire of dramatic
events in tanya's life," but it never was. i wonder if the black guy
was there, i wonder if i imagined everything that has no element of
imagination to it, i wonder why the event was never mentioned again by
my friends and boyfriend, and i do seem to recall an apology by my
friend that went to tuscaloosa, but i can't be sure.
this SHOULD have been a defining event in my life, it just wasn't.
i'm nada hocus pocus dorkus manorkus, oogah boogah gal, but something
huge either occurred or was in a marked aware dream-state, and one
that i never made much of a big deal about, didn't go all drama, as is
my nature, just simply let it kinda pass without much thought, and
with a few repercussions.
the inability to wake up horrified me, i still never dramatized any of
this.
somebody tell me what happened.
my first thought is my obsession with hallucinogenics and the 70's
80's drugs, maybe even the fact that it was natural for me to be high,
to be un-high (i can't say sober, that wasn't a word then) was un-
natural.
it's all comin' back to me after i read Radium's post and for tha life
of me, i'll never know what was up, why the experience was so surreal,
why it effected my life in such a peculiar way, or if it did.
maybe my lack of fear was borne of something else, but i cant, knowing
me, and my fear of most things, help but think that this phenomenon
was connected.
now i kinda need answers, maybe i should pray to the ghost of timothy
leary.
maybe i'm psychotic.
maybe i was psychotic and am schizophrenic enough now to realize how
psychotic i was.
maybe Nurse Ratched lived in my house.
maybe, after a very dismantled existence as a child, i needed to
experience power and it was made available to me, tho in quite a
dangerous way.
hell, maybe just maybe i maybe won't ever know.... maybe.
i was 18, i'm 49 now.
Radium brought back that memory, since the sleep fear, the stand-out-
ish side-effect stopped recurring, (even though i will think of it
before i'll nap during a tv show or during the day, but nothing at all
i would remember, unless i forced myself to, as i just did.)
maybe i should ask Orson.
na-nu, na-nu.
~t