I’m reading a Jason Bourne novel by Eric van Lustbader. He took over for Robert Ludlum and has been continuing the series.
I’m a huge fan of the “Bourne movies”. I love the action, as well as the scenes from Europe. It’s the closest I can get to traveling abroad, these days. Also, I really relate to the amnesia aspects of the story — at least, at the beginning. It reminds me a lot of how I’ve felt for many years, as though I’d lost myself to TBI.
The book I’m reading now features another undercover operative who’s got amnesia. He was grazed by a bullet and ended up in a freezing cold ocean, and when they fish him out, he can’t remember who he is.
I can relate.
But what I can really relate to, is the slow recovery of memories by Jason Bourne, as he goes through the motions of living his undercover life. There’s a lot he can do, that he can’t remember why. There’s a lot he’s capable of doing, that doesn’t make sense. That’s how it’s been for me for many years, with big pieces of my personality seemingly gone — maybe for good — even while I could do other things with as much skill as before.
I could find my way around a computer — I just couldn’t do the level of programming I used to.
I could interact with other people — I just couldn’t remember what they’d said to me, 5 minutes before.
I could drive and get around just fine, even learn to cook — I just couldn’t sustain the effort the way I used to.
A lot of things seemed to be lost — I have a list of them here. And a lot of them have actually come back to me. Like being able to read. Like being able to walk around outside without crippling anxiety. Like being able to go to the beach and sit on the sand. Like my sense of humor. And my sense of self. My sense of who I am and what I’m about.
My values. My goals. My morals.
It’s amazing — it’s like I had amnesia about who I was and what mattered to me. I’d completely forgotten. In some cases, I felt that loss. In other cases, I couldn’t imagine ever caring about those things, in the first place. Like my values. Like ever thinking anything was funny. The erasure, in some cases, was so complete, I had no awareness of even missing what I’d once had. And I had no desire to get it back.
But the brain is amazing. It’s resilient. It’s plastic. It heals and knits itself back together in amazing ways. I’m very fortunate, I know. Not everyone has this experience. But I have.
And for that, I am truly grateful.