Post 1979 – The year things got interesting again

For my 1979th post, I want to talk about my 14th year on earth – it was an interesting one. That’s the year I entered high school, I fell out of a tree and landed on my back, and I lost two really important people in the space of a weekend.

There were a lot of good things that happened that year – I became more social, and I started running cross country, which gave me a great outlet for my energy.

That year I also fell out of a tree and landed on my back across a log. I couldn’t breathe for a while, and fortunately I was near my house, so I ran home and laid down to catch my breath.

I’m not sure if I broke anything, but I was pretty dazed and out of it. I just felt so weird… like my body was made of cotton and my brain was under water.

That was the year I also lost two people who meant a lot to me. One was a parent of the family next door, who was like my own parent — even closer, because they were not cruel to me. The other was an athlete I looked up to and really aspired to emulate.

On a Friday morning, the parent next door passed away from cancer. I hadn’t talked to them in many months, because I had impulse control issues with one of their kids, and I “went off” on them and hurt them kind of badly. The “second parent” I thought I had didn’t understand my issues and was pretty strict with me. I felt wronged, so I quit talking to them.

Nobody understood me. Not even them. Nobody “got” that I was fighting issues no one could see. All I knew was, I had lost the connection that I used to feel with this adult.

And 24 hours after they passed from cancer, my hero was killed when their car was struck by a train. I heard about it on the radio, when I was out buying basketball sneakers. They didn’t say the name of the person who was killed, but I knew who it was. I just knew.

Both of those losses devastated me. I lost all connection with my world, and I went on “autopilot”.

In 1978, things started to turn around. Then in 1979, they got all screwed up again. And I figured I was cursed. Doomed to always be alone and isolated.

Oh, I have to stop writing about this. I’m getting really upset, and I am too tired to dwell on it. I have some chores I need to do, and I need a nap. I have been working on a project since early this morning, and I am tired. Tapped out.

Maybe I won’t write about my past. It’s pretty depressing. I’ll see if I can write some positive and constructive things… later.  Right now, I have to tend to other business.

Onward.

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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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