DNRS makes it very clear that recovery is not linear. There will be improvements, some large, some smaller, sometimes the body will take a step backwards as the limbic system tries to communicate using old neural pathways.
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| (c) Photos by Gina |
I have certainly continued to enjoy the extra energy in my days; I can't recall the last time I needed a nap (!). Additionally, even after I engage in modestly strenuous tasks, I find the rest period needed is shorter; and I no longer feel at constant risk of a crash. I even managed to stay up late to watch the Perseids recently, without significant repercussions the following day.
I like having more spoons.
Over the last month, I have continued to notice shifts. A few that are more personal than I feel comfortable sharing, but I will comment on two:
First, I seem to be losing less hair. A couple years ago, I noticed there seemed to be a larger amount of hair in the shower trap after shampooing than I recall at any other point in time. I presumed this was related to a lack of nutrition. However, there is noticeably less hair in the shower trap (and in my brush) these days. My diet has not [yet] changed, my hair-washing and styling habits haven't changed, the quality of shampoo and conditioner hasn't changed... so I can only assume this is another benefit of my slowly-healing limbic system.
Second, I am experiencing fewer headaches, and less severity of pain when they occur. Over the last 2-3 years, OTC pain-relievers either didn't work or weren't tolerated, so to say that is a welcome change is an understatement!
Again, I share this journey with you for a few reasons. Part of the DNRS re-training involves creating as many positive associations and cues of safety in the brain as possible. Spending time in an elevated emotional state helps the brain get out of the fight/flight in which it's been stuck, and back to safe/social. Documenting my journey can help me remember that I'm making progress on those days where the non-linear aspect of recovery feels all too real.
Documenting is also a way to celebrate, both alone and with others. Friends and peers have commented that there's a vibrance in my presence, a freshness in my face. When I've shared what I'm noticing in my body, they have celebrated with me. This empathy is a piece of the recovery too.
And lastly, as I was reminded by a friend, but didn't articulate as clearly in my first post, my story may become someone else's survival guide. I have been poring through innumerable 'survival guides' over the last five years, and it has finally brought me here. Perhaps I can be the turning point for someone else down the road.
