Catching up with myself

It’s been a while since I last posted… there’s been a lot going on with me, actually. I have been seeing a doctor regularly for neuropsychological testing, as well as other physicians like neurologists and my general practitioner, to follow up on other health issues. I have more appointments scheduled to check out some issues that I’ve been having for a long time — and I believe are tbi-related — but I never realized were part of a larger pattern, till the past year or so.

It’s been very frustrating for me, because

  1. I’ve had a lot of trouble identifying the true issues, starting with even realizing that I had them to begin with.
  2. It’s hard for me to talk out loud about things I can conceptualize in the privacy and quiet and safety of my own mind — somehow the words don’t do justice to my thoughts.
  3. Talking with doctors and interacting in that power relationship is very stressful for me, which makes it even harder for me to express myself.
  4. People don’t like to think there’s something wrong with me — they don’t want to believe that someone with my intelligence and insight and humor and kind manner and talent and abilities might actually have something wrong with them. Even doctors get scared by that prospect, I’ve found.
  5. I don’t have medical records of my injuries. I’m one of those tbi survivors who people thought would just get over the falls, the accidents, the blows to my head, when I was a kid. And even when I was in charge of my own health and well-being, I never put two and two together to get myself to the doctor and seek help. Now, my doctors are faced with a lot of unknowns and a lot of guesswork — which they hate! — about what’s going on with me.
  6. I don’t know how to ask for help. My parents and teachers and authority figures when I was growing up never got me help for my problems, I don’t think they ever realized that my injuries might be the cause of my bad behavior (no, I wasn’t just being bad all the time! I wasn’t just bad seed, the “bad apple” in their barrel of kids — I had neurological problems that needed to be addressed!) And since I was raised in an environment that relied on discipline and force to keep me in line, I never was able to see that my issues were due to actual physical injuries, rather than some character defect. I thought it was me that was defective, rather than the processes in my brain. So, I’ve tried like crazy over the years to avoid any sort of detection and avoid drawing attention to my needs and limitations.

But while I can’t do much about most of the points above, I can do something about the last one. I’m actually learning to ask for help! I’m learning to figure out where I’m falling down (using my self-assessment sheet and other check-in approaches), and I’m learning how to express to others what my needs are, getting past the shame and horrible feeling of being so friggin’ deficient.

Yes, I’m learning to ask for help. And I’m learning to talk to doctors. Which is a big change for me. All my life, I’ve avoided them like the plague — in large part because of my communication issues. And because I never wanted anyone to know I was in the level of trouble I was in.

A little progress at a time. It’s slow going. But at least my various doctors and I have all agreed that I do have issues… which is a big step, compared to where I have been in the past, when my issues were not as pronounced, and I frankly didn’t have a clue why I was doing the things I was doing — like being unable to get going with things I needed to do… being unable to follow conversations… being emotionally volatile and tired all the time… I could go on, but I get tired just thinking about it 😉 I really need to finish this post…

The view of my back yard has changed…

my back yard

You can buy a copy of this piece at my gallery at Imagekind – click here for prints on paper and canvas

One of the things I’ve noticed, this fall, is how much my relationship with my home has changed. When I first moved into my house in 2002, I was rarin’ to go… really pro-active with everything. I worked at a pretty intense pace, getting the place in order each season. I seeded the lawn, mowed it every other week in the summer, fertilized it, put down lime, mulched the shrubbery, kept things neatly trimmed… I split a lot of firewood and really went hog-wild with cutting up fallen trees and stacking the winter wood supply… I tidied up the flowers and plantings… I fixed things around the house… I constructed different fixtures I needed… I was quite handy and used my carpentry tools regularly. And I used my workshop in the basement a lot. I kept on top of all the repairs that needed to be done, and I called workmen to do work I couldn’t handle.

Since my fall down the stairs in 2004, however, a lot of that has changed. One of my 2-1/2 baths is completely out of commission — falling apart, literally — and I haven’t used it in almost a year. The electrical wiring in my dining room is funky and I’ve stopped using the overhead light. The outside light to the back stairs is not working, and hasn’t been for some time. The trees need to be trimmed and cabled, but I haven’t made the call. I haven’t been keeping up the outside of the house, doing the same level of upkeep. I haven’t been chopping wood. I have even forgotten to cover piles of perfectly good firewood, time and time again, to the point where much of it is unusable now — a total waste. My yard is suffering, the plantings are just running wild, the ticks in the grass are out of control, and frankly I’m lucky to have gotten any leaves up last year, at all.

It’s quite dismaying, when I think about it. It’s just not like me. And I feel that loss of my old self quite keenly.

But there’s a big part of me that just doesn’t care. That part of me looks out at the yard (which isn’t horrible looking, by any stretch, but still needs help) and just notices that it needs help. It doesn’t actually want to do anything about it. I work around the lighting issues in the dining room and the back stairs, using lamps and lanterns instead of the light switches.  All the repairs that need to be done just have to wait, as the part of me that’s usually motivated to do something about these things just tries to get through the day.

Truly, even the most basic things — like getting up and out into the day — are so much of a challenge, I just haven’t got the energy to tend to other things. It’s such a challenge to just get to work, do my job, and then come home, that the extra stuff like raking and calling contractors and fixing and patching and hammering and what-not, just tend to fall by the wayside.

But as I’m increasingly aware of these things, I find myself better able to deal with them. Like when I do my self-assessment sheets, and I check in about how I’m really doing… if I’m angry, if I’m anxious, if I’m distracted, if I’m tired, what kind of headache I have today… when I take a look at myself and my life and it sinks in about what I need to do, then I can start taking some action.

I just need to be aware. i just need to watch my energy. I just need to sleep when I need to sleep, and not worry about it. And I need to ask for help, when I need it.

Because I do need help. And there’s no shame in that.

Author: brokenbrilliant

I am a long-term multiple (mild) Traumatic Brain Injury (mTBI or TBI) survivor who experienced assaults, falls, car accidents, sports-related injuries in the 1960s, '70s, '80s, and '90s. My last mild TBI was in 2004, but it was definitely the worst of the lot. I never received medical treatment for my injuries, some of which were sports injuries (and you have to get back in the game!), but I have been living very successfully with cognitive/behavioral (social, emotional, functional) symptoms and complications since I was a young kid. I’ve done it so well, in fact, that virtually nobody knows that I sustained those injuries… and the folks who do know, haven’t fully realized just how it’s impacted my life. It has impacted my life, however. In serious and debilitating ways. I’m coming out from behind the shields I’ve put up, in hopes of successfully addressing my own (invisible) challenges and helping others to see that sustaining a TBI is not the end of the world, and they can, in fact, live happy, fulfilled, productive lives in spite of it all.

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