So for those of you who aren’t either regular readers of the blog, or who need to be caught up: I have multiple sclerosis as well as a seizure disorder brought on by perfectly placed lesions in my brain.

Some of my seizures are caused by the seizure disorder and can be characterized as “epileptic (though I do not have epilepsy!)” and some of my seizures can be characterized as “pseudoseizures” or seizures brought on by activity in the subconscious. (Yay, for fun time in psychology!)

Through a lot of work with several doctors, we discovered that my subconscious was actually showing me repressed memories, and that I was having PTSD flashbacks during the seizures. This began my work with EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing).

I don’t know that I’ve talked much about the effects that going through EMDR has on your life. Being a time traveler does not simply give one the sense of relief that the psychologists suggest, at least in the short term, because there is a backlash once you make certain changes that need to happen in your life. “Breaking cycles” hurts. That’s where the true bravery begins.

Sure, when you’ve got the paddles in your hands and your shrink across from you, and your eyes are closed in real life but in your mind’s eye, and through your body you’re facing the monsters of your youth with all of you, you feel that relief – and suddenly some of the pain that wracks your body leaves… and you gain back some of your mobility…

But back in real life, an hour or so later, you still have to actively choose to stay away from people who hurt you thoughtlessly. Even if you love them so much it hurts.

When you time travel back in order to heal, and you feel punishments and see things as a child all over again – things that have haunted you your whole life – things that happened by their hand or because of their neglect – and you come back and forgive them and then watch as things seem to happen all over again — you’re participating in it.

And that’s not learning or growing.

So, even though I love my mother more than words can say, and I’ve been torn up about this for days already, I’m holding firm on my stance of no contact outside of a family therapy setting right now, despite tomorrow being Mother’s Day. I’m not strong enough in my sense of self to not cave into the idea that everything bad that ever happened to me was somehow my fault for not showing her that I loved her enough.

I sort of hated Adam for calling the cops on me for walking into traffic at first. There were no cars coming. I mean, what says, “I love you” like 72 hours of involuntary commitment for being a harm to one’s self?

But then I realized something: Nothing does say “I love you” like “I won’t let you die.”

So, the least I can do for him is not restart the cycle, and let myself learn to heal.