Taking care of my junkyard dog

This would be me... on a bad day

My junkyard dog is at it again. I’m tired, after really pushing to meet some deadlines over the past few days, and it’s starting to growl and prowl and freak out again. The good news is, at least I’m aware of this. I know I’m tired, and I know that I tend to melt down and fly off the handle and generally start to feel sorry for myself when I get to this place.

Not good.

But that’s where I am, right about now.

Good lord, I am tired. I shouldn’t dwell on it, I know, but I just am. And no matter how I try to take it easy and relax, I’m still wiped out. And it worries me.

That’s probably the worst thing about this — the worry. ‘Cause when I worry, I get even more agitated and fatigued, and it all builds up… into an explosion that flies all over the place, and it can’t be helped after it’s done. When it’s done, and I’ve lost it, it’s pretty hard to get it back. The embarrassment, even shame, that comes from the rage — it feels so justified when it’s washing over me, then later it’s just embarrassing. And I have to deal with the fallout from people around me who are flipped out over my flipping out.

I dunno — my boss stopped by my office today to see if I was okay. They thought this loud banging sound was coming from my office. Nope. It was people moving big boxes down the hall. But having them show up and ask me if I was okay was a little unsettling. Like I’m giving off vibes or something? Who knows.

Anyway, the junkyard dog has a way of popping up when I least expect it. It’s like I try to stave it off, try to just ignore it or overlook it… that gathering storm in the back of my head. But the more I try to ignore it, the harder it gets… and eventually the blow-up is so disproportional to the circumstances, who knows why the hell I got so bent out of shape?

No one can see inside my head. Thank god for that.

But I’m tired. Tired and worn and in need of supper followed by a good night’s rest.  I’ve been eating too late at night, and going to bed too late at night. I need to do things differently tonight. Maybe read something.

Now that I can…


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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