Hey!

We’re back for part 3 of 4 of this protocol, and I’m going to make some observations and comments before I start my 15 minutes.

I started this thing Monday night. Monday was a big day I sat in my car for almost a half hour for the first time since July 1st. You can laugh at the fact that I think sitting in my car is progress if you so choose, but if you’d felt what I’ve felt over the last 15 months, I’d say a huge percentage of the population wouldn’t have made it. That’s a little bold of me to say, but humility is on its way so let me have my moment. Yesterday I drove my car for the first time since July 1st. Not far around the block a few times, down the street whatever. Today I drove my car again, further, on main streets, longer. I will keep pushing but I’ll also say:

Something has changed in my brain in the last 72 hours, I feel, like me again, determined, full of ideas, a bit like I can do anything(I know I can’t, relax). I’ve been able to push myself harder in the last 72 hours than I have since like May if we’re being honest. Both mentally and physically. Mentally the panic is fading, the anxiety is fading. Physically we’re doing cold plunges without feeling cold, we’re running faster for longer without stopping. I feel like someone gave me an iv of pure dopamine. Now in this I have to remember there will still be bad times, there will still be challenges, I’m just more prepared for them than I was, that feels good. It’s a long road ahead and we’re just getting started. More about regular life in a few days after we finish this writing assignment. Now here’s my 15 minutes of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

When I was around 6 years old, My parents became addicted to prescription pain killers, the ones a lot of people struggled with in the early 2000’s and continue to struggle with today. As the baby of the family by a 5 year age gap, I think I kinda got the brunt of it, and that’s okay, maybe that’s why I am who I am now. I have 2 brothers and 2 sisters. My oldest brother also struggled in this time frame, he had a tough life too, when he was young like 6 his mom was a crackhead alcoholic and my dad kinda ditched him to be with my mom. His moms house was very unstable and he saw shit I’ll never know about because he’s not very open about it. Anyways this lead him down a tough road, one where he sold drugs, did drugs, ended up in prison for a short while, the typical story of people in my family. What’s tough about him is honestly, I believe he still has the brain of a 17 year old when it comes to processing emotions, he doesn’t know how, and no one is helping. He’s in his 40’s so he’s strict in believing in medication to fix your problems and honestly I’m not sure he knows the risks of those medications. I try to talk to him about it but when you’re the older brother sometimes pride gets in the way of listening to your younger brother who got the advantage of having a fucking super computer in his pocket from an early age. I do a lot of research, listen to podcasts, I care about my mental health, not just today but long term. Anyways at some point he straightened his life out, but I’m not sure it was early enough that he’ll still get to do all most hope to do in life and that bums me out. That one is 100% my dads fault. My oldest sister Tabatha had one choice in life. Adopt me when she was 22ish because otherwise I’d probably end up in the system because my parents were homeless and on drugs, with my dad in and out of jail. she took me and my youngest brother who’s still older than me(I am still the baby) Derek in. Derek is 5 years older than me Tab is 11 years older. My other sister who’s story I told yesterday is 10 years older than me if she’s still with us. While we’ve all had our own traumas, and theirs were different than mine because they were in the world longer than me before this happened, when it comes to this specific series of events I think I was hit hardest. Around 6 you don’t really pick up on much, but over the next couple of years I became like a detective and knew exactly what was happening, the only secret? No one knew that I knew, because I was a child, what child knows what heroin is, has seen it and held it in his hand? What 8 year old has held a needle his parents use to inject it? well, me. I’m sure there are others too, but it turned me into a nervous kid from an early age. I was afraid of cops at the age of 8. What the fuck crimes was I committing? My parents taught me that cops weren’t there to protect you they were there to ruin your life, that you have to drive carefully because if you get pulled over you’re fucked. Now in the 5 years I’ve had a license(late bloomer) I’ve never been pulled over, but it wasn’t until recently, I was driving home from work and realized who gives a shit if I do get pulled over? I am a law abiding citizen(within reason) my car is registered, its insured, it has a safety sticker, were good. My parents never had that during their drug times that they actually had a car, someones license was always suspended, no insurance, no registration. Helloooooo these things cost money, and all the money was going to heroin, we can’t also pay a $40 registration fee on the car ever 2 years. I was taught to be paranoid, and scared, that’s what my parents taught me. Do you know how long it takes to undo that shit? when I owned a house I would always freak out about locking the doors making sure I had cameras etc. Why? because I’d seem my dad break into a house every which way. When I first started driving I was looking over my shoulder the whole time for cops. Why? my parents taught me look out for cops when you drive, and really when you do anything because every bit of their being was illegal. I’m not sad or mad or really anything that my parents did drugs, its your body go nuts. I’m frustrated at the toll it took on my brain. I didn’t get to develop any healthy habits as a kid, I was running, some days I still am. I’m not sorry I saw needles, and drugs, and crime. I’m just sorry for what it did to my neuropath ways. And I’m sad no one got me help sooner. The first time I really started seeing someone about my panic attacks my dad used to yell at me for having them. I didn’t talk to a therapist or start unlearning what I’d spent my entire life learning until I was 21. It was hard then and it’s hard now to stay consistent. Do I have trouble with consistency because i didn’t learn it as a kid? My parents doing drugs only really had two negative impacts on my life. It stopped me from learning healthy behaviors, and it made me a paranoid workaholic.

That’s my 15. This protocol is interesting, the first day I really wanted to tell the story, yesterday I wanted to tell it less, today I wanted to tell it even less. Tomorrow I also don’t want to tell it, but I have to follow the rules.

I think this protocol has already changed my life, and if you’re curious about it, feel free to reach out to me, or watch Dr. Andrew Huberman’s podcast about it. I think I can see why it’s 4 sessions. Over the time not only am I processing it much faster than I ever have, I’m wanting to let it go so I can stop telling the fucking story.

I told someone today:

I can’t wait to be a person that when people meet me, they can’t fathom that I’m the same person that went through all this. In my mind it’ll give people hope, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.