I was a little nervous to read “The Body Keeps the Score” because I wasn’t sure how medical/technical it would be, but I found it to be a fairly easy read. One part that I found fascinating was the example of trauma being like a horse and a rider. Often trauma is completely out of a person’s control, similarly to the way the body might respond to it. I thought this was a great way to describe how fight or flight can feel, and how hard it is for a person or “rider” to handle it. Overall I really enjoyed the reading.
Category: prep note Page 2 of 24
The book provided me with many different insights regarding trauma and healing especially for the younger age that is determining for the development of character. One of the most fascinating characteristics of the book was the explanation of different behaviors and characteristics through the use of social sciences and mostly psychology. Moreover, all the claims were supported by real life examples that did not just make the book more appealing but also provided a better understanding to the reader. Through the use of examples, studies and scientific approach, behaviors that are hard to be approached through logic or common sense are explained with details providing useful information not only to people suffering from traumas but everyone!
Over break, my family was sharing stories from the last time that we were able to all go on a trip over Christmas as a family. Due to sports and being in different schools, my brothers and I have always had different length breaks as well as a variety of practices and events we’ve needed to go to. We were talking about this because for the first time in five years, we’re able to go on a Christmas vacation with all five members of my family, my dad, mom, older and younger brother, and I. We were sharing stories from our last trip where we went to Utah to go skiing with some families of friends from where we used to live. My younger brother shared a story of how that was the first time he skied down a double black diamond and how much faster it felt to him. My mom told us how nice it was to see her three boys reconnecting with their friends from where we were born, as we hadn’t seen them in years. Hearing those stories made me think about my first time skiing down a double black diamond; like my younger brother, I too went down with my older brother and my dad, except in this case, I was one of the older brothers. Hearing my mom’s perspective made me realize that she could see how great it was to see my first friends and she could see how excited I was. She could see what I unknowingly knew, that these friends were my first nonfamily relationships and how strong that bond was even after not seeing each other for a long time.
One of my family members who shared a story was my cousin. Also experiencing her first semester of college, my cousin shared her experiences with her roommate. Although they got along and become close friends, my cousin talked about the difficulty of having a roommate who talks in their sleep. My cousins goes on to say that her roommate isn’t just an average sleep talker, but someone who rages during their sleep. She told me about a time when here roommate stood up on her bed in the middle of the night and proceeded to yell at someone in her dream. This was surprising to my cousin, because she considers her roommate to be one of the nicest people she knows. Despite this, my cousin was still frustrated at the fact that her roommate continuously would wake her up in the middle of the night. In order, to get sleep she had to do something to break her roommates trance. Although my cousin would occasionally throw a pillow at her roommate to wake her up, she began to play a dog whistle from her phone, a sneaky way of waking up her roommate. Within the 30 minutes it took her roommate to fall back to sleep, my cousin could get some peace during her sleep. I would say that this is a story because my cousin recollects on a collection of related moments in her life. Not just because of that, but also because she reflects how she feels during some moments while providing a plot to the story. A story can be like solving a math problem. You start with a problem or equation, and then show/tell your steps towards the answer.
Over the Thanksgiving break, my mother was reminiscing about life before two of her boys went off to college. It was sentimental in nature, mostly because she hadn’t seen my brother and I since the fall break, which must have been forever. She commented about how it was nice to cook meals for more than three, which must have been an adjustment after my twin and I left.
The story that she told actually dates back to around when my little brother was born. We were living in Madison, New Jersey. It’s part of North Jersey if that makes any difference. She recalled back with great vivid detail about how we lived right near the elementary school and would see children march in from the upstairs window of my bedroom. Most importantly, was the park adjacent to the house. Dodge Field, complete with a playground basketball court, baseball field, and really anything that fits the suburban locality.
The story really began with her taking my twin and me on a stroll through the park. My twin brother was feeling under the weather- your stereotypical snotty and sick kid who cried, and myself being overly energetic and excitable as most toddlers are at that age. It must have been when I was three, maybe even earlier. My little brother- she couldn’t recall whether she was pregnant with him at the time, or if he had been newly born and was thus strapped to her chest in one of those baby carriers. It really accelerates when my energetic tiny self, ends up running into the baseball field as a practice or game is going on.
While that may sound simple, it was hard to imagine. My mother, stressed with almost bloodshot eyes with the existence of a newborn weighing on her, sleepless nights, coupled with one sick kid crying and holding onto her hand, and the other running off right into the middle of an ongoing session on the baseball field. She chased after me and fortunately, she was able to round me up once again, but she recalls that as one of the most exhausting but also memorable moments in our time at Madison.
Now, while the story might seem almost frightening, and simultaneously, simple. It serves as an important story to my mother because it reminds her of simpler, albeit exhausting, times when she had all three of her boys. It wasn’t easy for her or my dad when my twin and I would trade off crying, or even team-up with wails that could echo through the neighborhood. But it was also sweetening when she could carry both of us in her arms at the same time, or when she’d come upstairs and find us napping after snacks in the middle of the day. She reminisces about these stories sometimes, and while it gives insight into the kind of little monster I might’ve been as a child, it also gives insight into just how much my mother cares about me and my brothers.
On Saturday night, my last night with my family before I had to come back to Richmond, my family decided to put up our Christmas tree. We set it up in the family room and listened to Christmas music as we hung all the different ornaments on the tree. After the tree was done, we sat beside the fireplace and were talking about my grandmother when my Mom pulled out an old Life magazine she found while cleaning out her house. She then told my family the story of how my grandmother was a black belt in judo and would enter competitions and fight. She was extremely skilled and one of the best female fighters in the area. In the magazine my Mom had pulled out, she showed us a section in Life magazine where my grandmother was acknowledged for her impressive Judo. She told us how my grandmother always kept that magazine because she was so proud to be featured in the same magazine as other famous people. Although this story was small, it really resonated with me because my grandmother was always so proud of her Judo and would use her moves to swipe my feet out from under me when I was a kid. Hearing the story made it feel like she was in the room sitting with us by the fire. I think this would be considered a story because it is not just a factual retelling of events but rather how my grandmother felt based on those events. Although it was not a long or detailed story, it still invoked some emotion in me and gave me more insight into my grandmother’s life. It’s difficult to determine what precise factors make something a story.
I was able to gather a collection of smaller stories instead of a larger story I could write a paragraph about (it was a busy break, my sister in law had a baby). For examples:
My sister told me about a time when she went rock climbing with one of her friends and nearly fell off the side of a mountain. She was way in over her head and her friend was obviously more qualified than her.
My brother told my family about some of his experiences at Virginia Tech when he roomed with his high school friend freshman year, and then his journey through med school in Connecticut.
And my dad also shared with my family how he managed to cause upwards of thousands of dollars in damages to a boat when it detached from a while on the freeway in Fancy Gap.
What could possibly make these all ‘stories’ is how they communicate so much detail through familiarity; my sister told her story when we, along with her husband, were rock climbing ourselves. My brother knew that we had all been to college and experienced some sort of hard academic work of the sort. And my dad used the feeling of dread from making a big mistake to really communicate what he felt to us.
I collected a few different stories from my grandparents, but unfortunately, not all of them were school-appropriate. (This was pretty surprising to me, because they’re very formal people.) I stayed in Virginia for Thanksgiving with my grandparents, and I didn’t see any of my siblings over the break, so I didn’t get any crazy stories either – but I did hear a story about Thanksgiving when my dad was young! When my dad was little, the family had a dog named Chanel. Chanel was relatively small, and usually very meek and mild-mannered, although she did enjoy rooting around in the trash occasionally. After Thanksgiving dinner one year, somebody set the turkey on the counter, and everyone went to another room. What they hadn’t counted on was Chanel’s remarkable balance – she had such good balance that she could walk on her hind legs and see over the table. Chanel dragged the turkey to the corner of the table, and then jumped up on it, flipping the platter and sending it crashing to the ground. Turkey was everywhere, the platter shattered, and my grandmother rushed back into the kitchen. She was more upset about her platter breaking than losing the turkey, and Chanel was rushed out of the room before she could eat any of it. My grandmother said the whole event was reminiscent of A Christmas Story. I’ve never seen it, though, so I’ll have to take her word for it!
In high school, I worked at a local dry cleaner every Saturday. Before my sister went off to college she did the same thing. And recently both of my younger brothers have been working Saturdays as well. My dad has known the owner of the cleaners for like 20 years, and has a lot of stories to tell about him. On Monday night when I got home my family and I were sitting around the table and catching up, and my brothers started telling us about their shift at work last Saturday. They especially had some stories about our boss, and my sister and I chimed in with “Yeah, he does that” or just laughed at their stories. Then my sister and I were telling stories from when we used to work there, and my dad even started telling his own about his friendship with the owner. We probably stayed at the table for thirty minutes just talking and laughing. It was so nice because we hadn’t all been together since this summer and my siblings and I bonded over working at the cleaners. There wasn’t a question that prompted any stories, it was more discussion because my brother wanted to tell us about his experience. Ultimately I knew I wanted to write about this because after dinner I knew it was the perfect situation since one person telling a story opened it up to us all telling some.
My family’s house is under construction at the moment, so one day over break my mom, my sister, and I were deciding what we should throw away to make room in the house. We eventually came across a DVD of my parents’ wedding. My sister and I knew we had to watch it somehow, and my mom suggested that we break out the dusty old DVD player. As we watched the footage and saw the wedding photoshoots, my mom started to comment on what was happening behind the scenes that we couldn’t see on the screen. She recounted how everyone had to gather at both sides of the family’s houses, where ceremonial prayers would be done. Then, they all gathered at the wedding venue for the actual marriage ceremony. At the very end, they would all travel to a restaurant for the final celebrations and congratulatory wishes. My mom described how happy she felt at the time, with all the attention on her and all the well wishes from friends and family alike. She laughed at certain times such as when she and my dad had to go around to all the tables at the restaurant and thank them for coming. My sister and I were confused at first because they kept saying the same thing over and over again, but my mom answered that they had to go to all the tables while smiling fondly. I smiled when my mom commented on how pretty the dresses she wore were, playfully stating that she always knew how to find beautiful clothes.
While it may be obvious that this is a story, it is important to identify the components of a story that make it so. This is a story because it is a retelling of events by someone who directly experienced them. Also, it includes how the person felt when these events were occurring, not just a simple retelling. My mom told us the events of her and my dad’s wedding, but she also told us how happy she felt during the wedding. The process of collecting this story was not difficult because I didn’t have to initiate it. The story just naturally came about as we were watching the wedding videos.