I’ve been thinking a lot about my recovery, lately. What I lost to TBI, what I’ve gotten back, and where I go from here.
Scratch that. Yes, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, but thinking is not the point.
Looking back at where I was, just a few years ago, it amazes me that I was as functional as I was. I mean, even just five years ago, I was grappling with all kinds of crap like intense mood swings that would completely wreck my day, and a ton of money troubles — creditors calling me constantly, threatening to take me to court — and some of them succeeding.
I landed in court at least twice (maybe three times?) that I can remember, and I totally screwed up one of the appearances, where I didn’t realize I needed to go into the actual courtroom. Even though I was sitting right outside, they logged me as a did-not-appear, which didn’t do much for my case.
Oh well. That’s over now. Don’t plan to go back there again.
Anyway, everything was so turned around, and it was literally all I could do, to keep up. I was in constant reaction-mode, constantly pushing, constantly fighting, constantly going against a grain of one kind or another. I was off my moorings, cut loose from the life I’d once known, and I was dealing with my spouse’s illness, as well.
All this, while having no real sense of who I was, or what I was about. I was on auto-pilot, just hacking my way through the weeds. And there didn’t seem to be a clear path.
Now things are different. Very, very different. And I’m coming out of the jungle with a clearer view of where to go. It’s like I can actually see a path in front of me. It’s not ideal, but it’s still a path.
And I’m still walking. Running, now and then. I’m also making progress, each and every day. I just need to make sure I get enough rest and good food, to keep going. That means real food, not a handful of candy and junk food at 3:00 in the afternoon. That sh*t will do me in.
Anyway, life goes on. I’m putting some distance between my past and present, and that’s giving me some needed perspective. I was so caught up in just getting through, so turned around, so uncertain about how to live my life.
All the things that had seemed so familiar to me — the old ways of thinking and doing and being seemed to be smashed to smithereens. From the simplest of activities like brushing my teeth and coming my hair in the morning, to making breakfast, to what I did for work each day… all of it morphed into something different and unrecognizable.
And it was really hell.
I think the hardest thing was losing my innate skill with little simple things, like being able to hold things without having to think about it. Dropping stuff all the time did a number on my self-confidence, and I couldn’t figure out how to get it all back. I just felt so stupid, so dumb, so inept. The simplest things were challenges for me, and I didn’t understand why they were hard for me.
That just stressed me out, and stress biochemistry does a number on your ability to learn.
More stress meant it took longer for me to re-learn, to re-train my body and brain, and it just prolonged everything. I didn’t understand the nature of my problems. All I could see was that I had those problems — or rather, they had me — and there didn’t seem to be any escaping it.
Now I know better, of course, but it’s been a long, hard road. And frankly, it’s sucked.
It was lonely. It still is lonely. Because nobody seems to understand what it’s like to actually lose your Sense-Of-Self. What it does to you. What it does to the people around you. How much it takes out of you, day in and day out, to have to reconstruct your life. I’ve rebuilt a huge amount of aspects of my life as I once knew it, but to be honest, I still know that I’m not the same person I used to be. And while I’m “close enough”, still…
I don’t feel the same way as I used to — about my life, about living my life, about, well, most things. And that loss of Self, that loss of the Sense of My Self, has been the hardest thing to overcome. I know how to rebuild. I know what it takes. But it’s still not easy, and most days, I’d rather not have to.
There’s a reason people don’t readily jump into finding out what it’s like to recover from a TBI. Or Concussion. Or stroke. Or brain aneurism. Or encephalitis. It scares the bejesus out of them to think that the brain can change as dramatically as that, and they just don’t want to think about it.
Some of us have to do this work. But it’s not for the faint of heart.