Well, kiddos, I’m wrapping up the saga into which we have delved since May.

While I truly hope it’s been of some help to my readers (rumor tells me some do exist), half a year’s columns doth subject fatigue make.

Beyond six, I will be rivaling the Star Wars creators — who should have stopped with the first three.

Speaking of fatigued subjects, let me recap with my old snowball metaphor that it’s often tough to determine which flake came first: Physical, emotional, or spiritual? It can be serious slush — especially when iced down through years of struggle.

Moreover, the culprit is not always even crystal clear.

While I’ve taken this series in the trauma direction, there are also things such as spiritual wounds/curses/tendencies that are generational in origin that can factor into this nasty mess.

Think of it as your family’s very own “Phantom Menace,” I suppose.

Fr. Chad Ripperger of the Doloran Fathers has an interesting three-part series on generational curses available on YouTube.

Regarding our trauma villain, one of MY theories is that it can adversely affect something as simple as circulation, opening the door to physical dysfunction along the track in which the body has stored it.

I’m not talking tissue necrosis or gangrene here; I’m talking sub-optimal function in certain areas or systems in the body that never reaches full pathology.

This cellular memory is different in its mechanism than that of brain memory, but it does exist: A figure skater’s muscles can remember how to do a double Axel without her conscious thought. You never forget how to ride a bike.

I believe the body’s cells can also learn and remember sub-optimal patterns of function thanks to trauma.

As for brain memory, we’ve already explored what trauma does to your noodle, and this theory of dysfunction genesis is certainly not mine.

Think of it as a short-circuit or a glitch in the neural software.

Here, it is the brain that learns a rogue pattern of response that generates real physical symptoms, and repeats it unless it’s retrained (the essence of Functional Neurological Disorder).

Retrain your brain

A beautiful “New Hope” is the growing evidence that the brain can be retrained.

If you think of psychotherapy techniques like EMDR (eye movement desensitization reprocessing) as trauma excavation, think of Pain Reprocessing Therapy (PRT)as brain urban renewal.

While our neuroplasticity does decline with age, it is never totally gone (Source: “The power of neuroplasticity: How your brain adapts and grows as you age” from the Mayo Clinic — mcpress.mayoclinic.org).

The book I mentioned at the outset of last month’s column is a great little primer on PRT, offering evidence of its success with even physical pain that is otherwise unexplained medically.

It’s a new arrow in my healing quiver — neatly tucked between healthy lifestyle and spiritual weapons of every variety.

I think a Trinitarian arsenal is appropriate for this three-pronged pitchfork of life, as you can never let your guard down where that “Phantom Menace” is concerned.

He’s always trying to resurrect old lies and weaknesses of self that diminish your will. I experienced it very recently.

I have forever struggled with decisions that affect me personally in any big way, and I’ve had to make numerous of them these last two years.

I know we’re supposed to offer our sufferings, so hopefully it’s done someone somewhere some good, as I can’t think of a much better scourge pour moi.

While I may just be inherently indecisive, I like to think my childhood trauma contributes to this.

You see, I thought eating that bottle of aspirin was going to garner me praise: “Look, Mommy, I ate ALL my vitamins!” Instead, I found myself trying to fight off a vicious band of white coats — all of whom had quite a few pounds on my four-year-old frame.

I felt I had let my mother down, and that mistakes and imperfections would carry a heavy price.

In peak struggle, I even ask Abba to make decisions for me: open wide the doors I should traverse; slam shut those I should not.

He frequently answers that prayer. But I guess this time was a strengthening exercise, and I faced my usual angst: Am I hearing His, mine, or the dreaded other guy’s voice?

Insights for going forward

Three local priests gave me huge insights this time around:

1. Present your idea of the right path to God. If you feel more and more peace, forge ahead; if it “feels like a pebble in your shoe,” start over.
2. If you are truly trying to do God’s Will, “this alone is pleasing to Him”.
3. In that quest of the previous point, even if you’ve “read the tea leaves” wrong, you CANNOT thwart His plan . . . “Whatever decision you’ve made, God can work with it.”

The peace these pearls of wisdom gave me is hard to describe.

I was so consumed with diabolical fear that the wrong decision would punish me beyond help, I fell prey to the lie that His love for me is conditional . . . that He cannot work out a Plan B even if I mess up and miss His Plan A.

What, exactly, is beyond His Power?!

Not one tear or heavy sigh of mine was lost on Him . . . went unseen by Him. He felt the struggle of my heart. He loves me even when I can’t love me, and will help me clean up my messes if I just keep returning to Him with a humble heart — for He makes all things new.

Even in darkness, always strive to never lose sight of this Ever-Present Hope.

It will take us home to Him when our battle is done —with any luck, on a flying speeder.