top of page

Rollerblading with T-Rex Arms - A sneak peek into my nightly routine.

TRex hands is a common Trauma Response
Cool, another gift!

So I know that in my previous post, I told you it was time to suit up with your trusty underpants and your superman cape; I failed to mention a few other pieces of attire that you might not know that you know you need.

I am an artist.  I am a writer and spend a ridiculous amount of time on my computer and phone.  My wrists and arms do suffer from bouts of carpal tunnel strain. 

Thankfully, many of my physical ailments subsided almost instantly when “Duncan” announced his departure. My hair stopped receding, and my skin regained its glow. My weight magically started to level out, and I was able to see progress in my fitness attempts. Mind you, it also showed me as much when I hit the candy jar too hard. My female issues have leveled out, and a plethora of other things are slowly clearing themselves up. My body is regaining its balance.

One thing though that hasn’t is my wrists!  I was certain I was heading for surgery.  Of course, my brain immediately thought—I can’t do that!  I have to work!  I have no one to take care of me!  That is just not an option.  It was then that I looked to Dr. Google for my latest diagnosis, and I learned I suffer from T-Rex arms!  Ha!  Who knew?

The extended state of fight or flight causes a person’s normal oxytocin, adrenocorticotropin, and cortisol levels to deregulate.  There are actually some studies that suggest Narcissistic abuse causes brain damage in individuals, as well.  Though I would like to claim that as my lack of logic, I think we will stick to the topic at hand, the trauma response of T-Rex arms.  It is a natural body response to curl your hands up under your chin or in front of your belly as you sleep.  This is protective.  While a person is detoxing from abuse it is natural for them to have a constant state of cortisol that is telling the body to protect, protect, protect. 

So, I figured out what I was doing… as I have been going through the healing process, I have been wringing my hands ALL NIGHT LONG.  Couple that with my work and my addiction to doom-scrolling and well, one has the perfect concoction of agonizing pain!!

I mentioned before that surgery is not really top on my personal wish list, so again…taking the advice of Dr. Google I went on to Amazon and ordered me a couple of braces in hopes to solve this problem. 

Let me see if I can paint this image so that you can go ahead and put in your call to be the next Mr. Aspyn Bane.  Let me tell ya, the visual is stunning.

Imagine this:  It’s time for bed, the moon is high and I am ready to embark on my journey to dreamland.  I have just completed my skin ritual of 3 different kinds of treatments and have adorned myself with a satin gown after brushing my hair precisely 100 times.  I am about to slide into my pristinely pressed sheets---

--- No wait, wrong story.  We ARE talking about me here.  Let me start again.

Imagine this:  It’s time for bed, the moon is high, and I am ready to embark on my journey to dreamland.  I have on my favorite nightshirt.  The one with the holes and stains and faded “Bahamas” across the chest.  I used a makeup remover wipe to take my makeup off and may or may not have slapped some Retinol on.  I try to remember to do it nightly, but let’s be honest- it just doesn’t work out that way.  My hair is still stuck up in the clip that I wore today. I won’t remember to take that out until I lay my head on the pillow, and it stabs me.   I did brush my teeth.  Only cause that tends to deter me from the late-night snack attack.  I don’t know- does anyone else see the invisible sign that goes up when you brush your teeth?  “Nope—sorry boys, the teeth are clean, kitchen is closed.”  Just me- oh ok. 

Back to the story.  There I am, in my PJs, ready to slide into the sheets and put the day away. I have the dog, got my cats, got my water, and have set the necessary alarms.  Locked (and double-checked) the house up. I move the pillows (yes, I really do NEED all of them) and made my way into my favorite place on earth.  But alas, my trusty arm braces have other plans. These formidable contraptions wrap my arms in a cozy embrace, ensuring that any attempt at graceful movement resembles a struggling penguin on ice.  One would think I’d learn to put them on once I am already settled into bed, however I think this might could be where the brain damage could be blamed.  So there I have my Velcro robot arms, that strongly resemble the pads you wear to rollerblade, trying to pull the pillows back and remove the aforementioned hair clip, oh, and any earrings and jewelry that I missed in the disrobing part of this endeavor. 

Arm Braces and Headband
Suit up!

But wait, there's more! Enter stage left: the pièce de résistance, my trusty headband.  It is so cool, it blocks out the light and it also has headphones in it.  Yes, you heard correctly. Not only do I have Velcro-covered T-Rex rollerblading arms, but I've decided to up the ante by adorning my noggin with a headband that doubles as a DJ's dream, pumping out bedtime tunes as I rollerblade my way to sleep.

So there I am, a spectacle of bedtime eccentricity, with arms stuck in perpetual T-Rex mode and a headband threatening to launch me into the next roller derby. If someone had told me I'd be spending my nights as a hybrid of prehistoric predator and rollerblading enthusiast, I would have questioned their sanity. Yet here I am, living the dream in all its absurd glory. 

I know that is making some of you long for the time you could cozy up to me. Hey, at least my teeth are clean. Sweet dreams, my friends. Don’t forget to return often as I share the non-plastic parts of this new life I am living.


bottom of page