It happens to the best of us
I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, lately, seeing some things fall away, seeing some things come into focus.
My spouse has been really slipping, lately — emotionally and mentally. They forget things and fly off the handle over things, alienating coworkers and friends alike. They’ve been doing this for a long time, but they’re starting to run out of friends. And their volatility is starting to affect them professionally, which is a “hit” personally, since their self-image is really tied up in their professional performance.
There are things they can do to help themself, but they don’t do those things. I believe it’s neurological, and I’m going to look into finding them a competent neuropsychologist to work with, to help them think better. It’s the least I can do.
On the front of my own life, I am seeing things come more into focus and “cohere” more than ever before. For a long, long time, I had a very fragmented life, where the things I did in my free time had nothing to do with what I did for a living. I didn’t see the connection. I basically worked to earn a paycheck that would let me live my “real” life. Now I see my 9-to-5 job as being an extension of who I “really” am in the rest of my life, and the things I experience and learn each day on the job, feed my free time and contribute to my developing philosophy of life.
The two are not entirely separate anymore — work and free time. They blend and contribute to each other in significant ways. In fact, one of the most encouraging developments of my life has been the quieting of the conflict I feel around going to work each day, instead of spending my day reading and studying. In a very real sense, I now experience my everyday life as an opportunity to study “in the wild”, and also to test out my observations and theories about how life works, and what it all means to me.
My day job and my everyday existence is no longer a hindrance that keeps me from living up to my true potential — it’s a valuable source of insight and proof of my concepts (or contradicting them), which is better than any amount of classroom learning or book study.
But I do still wish I had more time to read and write. I run out of steam at the end of the day, and all I’m really good for is making supper and then spending a few hours “veging” in front of the t.v. till I roll off to bed. I have about an hour in my mornings, if I’m lucky. And the weekends, too, I have some time. But I don’t have nearly as much as I’d like.
Fortunately, we’ll be moving to an office that’s closer to my home in about a month, so that may change.
Anyway, back to what I’ve been thinking about — losing the self and rebuilding again….
Some years back, I wrote a section of this site called “TBI SoS – Restoring a Sense of Self after Traumatic Brain Injury – read it here” and I should
probably definitely revisit it. It’s been nearly four years since I first wrote it in early 2011, and some things may have changed. I know my sense of self has changed… my sense of purpose and potential…. and I’m quite sure I’ve learned a lot in the last 3-1/2 years.
Losing the sense of who you are, as so often happens with TBI, can be a viciously terrible thing to deal with. It’s alienating and stunting, and it feels like it kills a part of you. In a way, it does. A part of you can die, when the connections in your brain are frayed and twisted and stripped. Even the most “minor” head injury can wreak havoc, when your most customary neural pathways are diverted in subtle ways. Over time, the damage can continue… in ways that don’t seem all that apparent to the scientific community, but which are pretty clear to me. I’ve written about that before, and I should probably dig up those writings and put them into book form. I feel like they should be shared.
But I’m digressing again. The bottom line is, when TBI strikes — be it mild, moderate, or severe — your entire world can be rocked off its foundation. And in the ensuing days, weeks, months, years, continued impacts from the flow of life can dismantle your place in the world, your sense of who you are, your ability to function, your whole identity, in hidden and debilitating ways.
That’s where I was, in December, 2007, when I first started blogging. I was in bad shape, and I had no idea just how bad. All I knew was, I needed to set some things straight. And I needed help.
So I did what was necessary, and I also reached out and got the help I needed. And in the process, I have rebuilt my life and my understanding of who I am and where I fit.
Ironically, though, I still don’t feel “like myself”. I feel like someone who is living the life I want to live and making their way through the world in my skin. But it doesn’t feel 100% like me. Now and then, I’ll have a glimmer of familiarity. And sometimes I’ll have an extended time of feeling like myself again. Since I’ve been able to read and write for longer periods of time, again, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in a long, long time. And I feel a closer connection with my writing subjects and writing practice. But somehow it doesn’t last.
And I wonder… what is that makes us “who we are”? What is it that defines our identity and our sense of self? How is that constructed, and how can we reconstruct it — in the face of loss and having to say good-bye to parts of ourselves?
This question is really key for me. It really moves me, and it really compels me. People write comments on this blog that talk about exactly what I struggle with — that sense of having no clue of what’s going on, or why it’s all going south… a sense of loss, a sense of being cut off from the possibilities of life, a sense of never being the same after the accident(s).
A lot of people feel that — but when your brain has been injured, it’s different. It’s just different.
And dealing with that, is probably one of the biggest challenges to brain injury recovery. Because it takes the kind of focus and intention that work best with an intact brain — or with the help of a competent professional (and there are too few of them around).
Oh, hell. I dunno. I’ve got to go to work. I’m thinking about these things a lot, lately, as things go really well at work for some strange reason. I’m doing extremely well under the conditions there, and I’m getting a lot of compliments and support from my once-skeptical coworkers. I’m making believers out of people at work, over things that I know to be true in my heart — that we can, and will, make it through in one piece.
At the same time, I have no idea what’s going on. Seriously. I just cannot follow things that people say to me, and I am flying by the seat of my pants, half the time. I am nowhere near as master-ful in my command of my subject matter, as I would like to be. I am literally winging it, but nobody seems to notice. I have a regular string of little “wins” on a daily basis, and I focus on them. Never mind the equally frequent “losses”. I concentrate on the “wins” and pretend the “losses” never happened. And it seems to work.
On the surface, I really can’t worry about what chaos swirls around, deep down in side. I can’t worry about the confusion in my head, and how I’m constantly trying to keep two steps ahead of things and narrowly averting disaster as I go. I just can’t worry about it. I just keep dancing, keep moving, keep going with the flow. And it all works out.
But it still feels weird and unlike me. It doesn’t feel like “me” at all.
As long as it works for others and keeps a paycheck coming in, and as long as I’m genuinely able to perform and do the jobs I’m given, all is well.