What I do, is What I am… and is Who I am.

This past weekend was a busy one. It was busier than I expected, because a project I’ve been working on had a “pre-launch” on Saturday, and I had to join a conference call for a few hours, starting at 8:00… and then I was on-call for the rest of the day.

I also had errands to run, in advance of next week’s Thanksgiving vacation (which actually won’t be much of a vacation, because there will be so much travel, family stuff, and tiring activity). It’ll be good to be away from work, but the change in schedule brings its own stresses.

But all in all, things are good. I know that, even though it’s going to be challenging, I have the tools and the skills and the capacity to handle whatever comes my way. This is a huge change from before.  Monumental. And the fact that my last nasty concussion was at Thanksgiving in 2004 (13 years ago), always brings up the reminders of how my life was turned upside-down, starting around this time of year.

I’m managing all the different things I have to “juggle”. Getting errands done in advance. Doing up-front planning for when to travel and what to do along the way to keep from being destroyed by hours and hours in the car. Regular stops are called for. Stretching and exercises by both myself and my spouse. Taking our time, so we don’t suffer too intensely from the whole trip.

I’m actually pretty concerned about the physical effect this trip will have on us. We’re both in king of rough shape, physically. My spouse more than me. And it’s tough, because they’re not very active, to begin with, and that makes it harder for them to recover. Plus, the reactions of our families, when they see just how limited they are with their mobility. People can be both insensitive and cruel and alarmist. What’s needed, most of all, is for people to be strong and positive and supportive. Not despair and think all is lost from what really could be a temporary condition.

Time was, I was pretty crippled, myself. Intense chronic pain that seemed like it would never go away. A state of mind that was defeatist and full of despair. I’m not like that, anymore. And frankly, I think what I did has as much to do with it as anything that I thought or told myself

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I managed to put my life back together… how I managed to restore my Sense-of-Self. I had a lot of help from someone who talked sense into me each week. But I think even more than that, what brought me back was effort and action — consistent effort and action.

Taking action and then giving a lot of thought to the results… and then taking more action… that’s done wonders for restoring my sense of who I am, and getting me on solid ground again. The thing about TBI is that it takes away your sense of who you are — that unconscious, instinctive trust in yourself. And when that goes away, it makes life that much more stressful. Which means that you don’t learn as well as you could under less stressful conditions. And that means your recovery gets delayed. I know mine did. For years.

Because I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t know who I was anymore. And I became unrecognizable to the people who used to be my friends.

But as I just got on with my life (kicking and screaming, the whole way), and I worked through one situation after another, I came to recognize myself again. Through repetition. Through keeping to a schedule. Through regulating myself with checklists and strategies that made repeat experiences possible and re-taught me to recognize myself.

I think rehab people vastly under-estimate the impact of that loss. And as a consequence, they (and we) lose valuable ground, without realizing it. Without ever understanding why.

After TBI, you have to re-discover who you are. People do that in different ways. For me, it came through action. Taking action. Again and again. And soldiering through the failures and frustrations to build up a better understanding of who I was, what I was about, and why things mattered to me.

Action, in addition to thought, brought me back.

But sometimes we get it backwards. I know I did, for years, up until the post-TBI symptoms were so bad, my life was about to implode. People still do it. All the time.

I was talking with a friend yesterday who’s been having a lot of trouble getting their life together. They said they wanted to understand the underlying nature of their confusion and lack of direction, in order to go in the right direction. I suggested that rather than trying to figure out the mental background of it, they simply move forward, take action, and do the things they want to do. If they wait around to understand what’s going on, they may never get started making the concrete, substantive changes they need to make, to get their life in order.

They’re in a state of “analysis paralysis”, in any case, so just about anything they do to move forward will be step in the right direction.

I’m not sure if that sank in with them, or even if it made any sense. But they seemed to get it.

And I hope they can take the steps they need to take.

Anyway, that’s on them. I have my own life to worry about. But I’m too busy doing things to worry much, these days.

Life awaits.

Onward.

Save

Getting my body back, too

I’ve been concerned about falling, for some time, now. I get lightheaded and dizzy, and I sometimes lose my balance when I’m tired or I’m distracted (which is often how I feel). I’ve seen a neurologist about possible neurological bases for this, but the MRI didn’t come back with anything meaningful that they could do anything with. Also, I don’t have a condition they can diagnose, so they can’t bill the insurance company, which means I can’t get much in-depth help from them. They need to pay their bills, and if the insurance won’t cover what they’re doing for me – and I certainly can’t cover it all – then nothing’s going to get done.

Which kind of sucks.

But frankly, it doesn’t surprise me. I have been steering clear of neurologists for some time. Only after my neuropsych encouraged me to dig deeper, did I agree to try again. And the one they referred me to moved out of state, so that’s that. This one was another good prospect, they thought, but my experience is turning out different from their expectation. No surprises there.

I’m going back in another week to follow up and put this whole thing to rest. All they can tell me is that I’m probably not sleeping enough, which my old neuropsych thought was “preposterous” – but I can kind of see their point. When I’m tired, my brain doesn’t work as well. And balance is very much handled in the brain. So, fatigue could conceivably be a source of imbalance.

Still, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to ever actually catch up on my sleep and feel fully rested. I wear out easily, and I don’t have a life that allows me to get naps when I need them. Not yet, anyway. I’m working on that.

Anyway, I’m not going to get all bent out of shape about it. I’m meeting with a wellness coach/personal trainer at work today. That’s one of our employee benefits – an on-site wellness consultant – so I’m going to take advantage of it. I’m going to see if they can tell me some things I can do to strengthen my overall system, to give me better balance, physically speaking.

Think about it — the body moves as a result of muscles coordinating their movement. And keeping your balance really involves a lot of muscles. I sit and stand — stationary — for most of the day, every single day, so I don’t use those muscles as much. And that’s no good. So, I’m hoping they can show me ways to strengthen, as well as get more flexible — that’s another piece of keeping your balance.

I’m also working on really improving my sense of my own body and where I am in space. I get pretty banged-up from doing yardwork and chores around the house, because I run into things (but don’t realize it), and then I end up with bruises from impacts I can’t recall. I’m so focused on what I’m doing, that I don’t even notice the impacts. So, yeah, there are two things going on there, but I’m thinking that if I can at least improve my sense of where I am, relative to sharp objects and hard surfaces, I can possibly look a little less like I got in a bar brawl, after I’m done cleaning up the yard 😉

The way I’m working on that, is by really paying attention to my body during the day – noticing where I’m tense, and focusing on relaxing it. I’ve been watching videos of Systema — a Russian martial arts practice that centers around breathing, relaxation, and body awareness. Some of the things that they do in the videos are amazing — and the folks doing it aren’t these monster-ripped superheroes who overpower their opponents with sheer force. They’re average-looking folks who you’d never expect to be able to do the things they do. Because they know their bodies, and they relax and let themselves just respond to the situation.

I don’t think I’d ever do Systema training, because of all the hits and the falls. I’ve had enough of them in my life, already, and I don’t want to push my brain’s luck. But I did get a book from them a while back about breathing and improving your body sense, and I’ve been reading that on and off, over the past year. I’m getting back to it, now, and it feels pretty good. Just getting a better sense of my body, how it moves, how it feels when it moves… when it’s tense… when I need to breathe… it’s good.

It’s also helping me sleep. I get so caught up in my head, that my body can’t catch a break. So, focusing in my breath and also trying to feel each and every bone and muscle in my body, and relax as much as possible… that gets me into a relaxed state that gets me “down” before I can get halfway through. I’ll start at my toes, and by the time I’m at my knees, I’m out.

And that’s great. I used to do this all the time, then I stopped… and I forgot about doing it. That’s one thing I’m working on, these days — trying to follow through and not drop things before I finish them. Or, if I do get interrupted, make a note of what I’ve been doing, and keep that note where I can see it and remember it. I just remembered another project that I was making amazing progress on… then I got interrupted, and I forgot about it… and I ended up heading in a completely different direction.

Months later, I suddenly remembered it last night, and sure enough — there it is, waiting for me to continue working on it.

The breathing and relaxation stuff is just the same. I’m making great progress, then I get distracted, and I head off in a different direction. And I forget about what I’d been doing — and it ceases to exist for me.

So, I lose the benefits I’ve been getting from it. And I lose that part of my life. I slowly drift back to my old ways. I start having the same problems that I had before, and I wonder why I keep ending up back where I started… all over again… when I was making so much great progress.

It’s discouraging. So, I need to do something about that.

And so I shall.

Onward…!

Ha! The extra exercise worked

It’s important to keep the right balance

So, yesterday, I exercised twice — once in the morning, and again later in the afternoon at work. There’s an aerobics room at the gym at work, and it’s walled with mirrors. That’s exactly what I need, so when I’m doing some movement, I can work on my form and be mindful of how my body is actually positioned as I move it.

I picked up a lot of bad posture and positioning habits when I was younger, and that’s cost me valuable time later in life when I pulled or strained muscles, due to bad form. And then I had to sit out for a while, till they got better. And by the time they got better, I had forgotten about doing them at all. And I lost more time, till I got inspired to do them again.

So, keeping myself in good form is important. And I had the chance yesterday afternoon to spend about 20 minutes moving and watching myself move, making sure I wasn’t moving in ways that strained my back and hips and knees, and all the other connections that have given me trouble over the years.

I didn’t spend a ton of time on it, yesterday, but it was enough to wake me up, and also give me a bit more of a workout. I had been planning on getting an extra exercise session in, when I got home from work. But to tell the truth, I’ve got to make supper, and I’m so done with the day, by that point, that I just want to make supper, talk to my spouse, and chill out.

So, exercising for 30 minutes during the day is really a good option for me. It breaks up my afternoon, and it also wakes me up.

And last night I went to bed by 10:00 and I woke up close to 7:00 a.m. — nearly 9 hours of continuous sleep. Amazing. Just amazing. I’m still feeling a bit fuzzy and groggy this morning, but the fact that I got that much sleep makes it all the better.

Plus, this afternoon, I have no meetings, so I can do it again. I moved a little bit this morning, to work on my balance, and also get a sense for where my body is in space. With my balance issues — which are the one outstanding remaining danger for me and my physical safety — I have to do something. The neuro I went to see to help me with it, doesn’t seem to take my situation all that seriously. Hell, they don’t seem to take ME all that seriously. So, I’ll just have to take care of this all, myself.

I can probably do a better job of it, anyway, because I know what my issues are. I have no trouble articulating them, because I don’t need to — I’m walking around in a body that’s got movement and balance challenges. I already know first-hand what the deal is, and I don’t have to convince anyone of it.

And that makes it a whole lot easier to deal with.

Personally, I’m sick and tired of people not taking me seriously, not believing me, and dismissing me — or brushing me off with some bogus explanation, because they can’t be bothered to look deeper. Maybe it’s a function of the medical system (I won’t say “healthcare”, because there’s something else driving it than “health” and “care”), which routinely traumatizes and exhausts its members, and then expects them to turn in stellar performances. I have to factor in that I’m dealing with professionals who are A) impaired at a functional level — and have been, since they started med school, and B) honor-bound to flatly deny that lack of sleep, secondary trauma, and the pressures of the insurance companies could have a negative impact on their performance.

So, I have to take it all with a grain of salt. And just use them for what they’re good for — prescriptions, if I need them. IF I want to take them — which I usually don’t. They’re gatekeepers for insurance companies, and little else, from what I’ve seen. Just as many financial advisors are little more than highly compensated sales reps for financial services companies (I know, because I was recruited by a fin svcs company many years ago, and I got an inside look at how things work — and I opted out).

So, all that aside, it feels great to be doing something for myself. I forgot to contact that trainer at work again, to go over some complex movements and strength training approaches. I’ll make a note to do it today. I’m feeling a lot of anticipation about this spring… I think it’s going to be a good one. And an old project I had put aside, years ago, has now suddenly shown itself to be feasible, as a solution to one of the big conundrums I couldn’t sort out before has suddenly become obvious to me. So, that’s a nice thing. Very nice indeed.

It’s amazing, what 9 hours of sleep will do for you. I’ll have to try for this again… and again… and again…

Onward.

On the bright side – I’m not walking that razor’s edge anymore

I have really done a fantastic job of learning how to keep myself out of danger and NOT do things that put me in harm’s way, just to keep my attention alert.

I’ve been dull and dense, but that’s actually a positive thing in a way. It means that I haven’t been pushing the envelope with my adrenaline-chasing, like I always used to.

And that’s a huge thing. It truly is. I’ve been using extreme duress to make myself feel better for many, many years — as long as I can remember. And breaking that habit has been excruciatingly difficult. It’s taken me years. But I’ve gotten here.

Come to think of it, being dull and foggy is actually a sign of progress, in its own way.

It truly is.

After the Hit – Age 4, Possible Fall Off a Chair

This is an injury I cannot 100% confirm, but much about what I recall fits the description of what happens to a kid before, during, and after a concussion from a fall.

I was placed in a daytime childcare setting with another one of my siblings, when I was about 4 years old. Both my parents were working to make ends meet, so I was in childcare till I entered kindergarten.

This fall happened in a house that was filled with kids. The big kids went up stairs, and the little ones stayed downstairs where the caretaker could keep an eye on us. I always wanted to be upstairs with the big kids, but I knew I wasn’t allowed up. One day, one of the “big kids” encouraged me to come upstairs and join the fun. I was a small kid for my age, but I had a big heart, and I wanted to be part of the fun. So, I snuck upstairs with the other kid, and I got to play.

The game that day was climbing onto chairs and jumping, as though we could fly. I had always been a climber (I climbed onto the top of our refrigerator when I was 2, and I downed a whole bottle of tasty orange-flavored baby aspirin). So this came naturally to me. Along with the other kids, I climbed up as high as I could go, and I jumped. One time, I landed wrong – maybe my head hit something? And the next thing I knew, one of the big kids was running downstairs calling for our caretaker that I needed help.

I remember a lot of confusion and yelling. I wasn’t supposed to be up there. I dimly remember getting a concerned talking-to, but most of the yelling was at the other kids for inviting me up there. My mother was called, and she came to pick up my sibling and me. There was worried, hushed adult back-and-forth talk, with a lot of apologies from my caretaker. Then I was taken home.

After that, I was determined to go back upstairs and join the big kids again. I couldn’t get it out of my head. My caretaker had to keep an eye on me, or I’d be back upstairs. Nothing they said to me would stop me from wanting that. I wanted to climb. I wanted to jump. I wanted to fly. If it’s possible for a young kid to perseverate (get stuck on one idea and not be able to let it go), I fit the bill. In addition, I was subject to crying fits, where I could not let it go. I just could not. I would cry and cry and cry inconsolably. Nothing could stop me. I would just cry.

This happened at the caregiver’s place where I’d fallen. And it happened in other places and times when I was tired and overwhelmed, too. Once, my mother had to pick me up from childcare and take me home, because I was impossible to calm down and I was being too disruptive.

I didn’t want to be in that house, filled with all those rowdy kids, all that noise, and all that activity. But if I had to be there, I wanted to be upstairs with the big kids — jumping off chairs and getting as close to flying that a 4-year-old can imagine.

Swimming through the downwelling — Got my STP going on

Good stuff for a tired-ass rainy day

When in doubt, Stone Temple Pilots are good company to keep. I’m listening to No. 4, and it’s as good as ever. I went through a period, over the past few years, when I didn’t listen to much rock music. It was a lot of electronic stuff — trace and whatnot. Always good for getting me flying down the road, to and from work.

Lately, though, I’ve been getting back to my good old rock ‘n’ roll. Lots of hard rock, as I drive to and from work. And it feels normal again. Like I’m picking up where I left off, a few years back.

It’s like I went on a detour for a few years. Thinking I was going to be or do something different. I blame that last job I had, where I was so out of place, and I just didn’t fit in at all, and I needed to take the edge off things.

The whole last ten years feels like a big-ass detour for me. It was that damn’ mild TBI in 2004 that screwed me up. I’m still pissed off about it, and how it derailed me. I’ve been swimming upstream, trying like crazy to get where I’m going, fighting a current I couldn’t see — a downwelling, as they call it in the ocean – watch a video about surviving downwelling here.

In a downwelling, when you’re scuba diving, an invisible current hits you and carries you down-down-down into the depths — potentially past your approved depth. It can take you down very quickly — fast enough to increase the nitrogen in your blood enough to make you feel — and act — drunk. And also pressurizing you very quickly. It’s crazy. If you get caught in a downwelling and can’t get out, you’re done for.

That’s kind of like what chronic mild TBI / concussion is like. Most people see their issues resolve in weeks or months, but some of us are stuck with them, and they can catch us unawares and plunge us into the depths — towards the abyss — before we even know what’s happening. It can be deadly. And if you choose wrong, you can get totally screwed up.

I didn’t realize until late 2007, that there was really a problem — three years past my injury. Everything went downhill, and I didn’t even realize it. Money was disappearing so fast, I might as well have set piles of it on fire. I jumped from job to job, not realizing how it would affect my future job prospects. I could not read, I could not learn, and I felt like I was literally disappearing from my life. I could not go outside very much, because of my light and noise sensitivities, and I had cataclysmic panic attacks that felt like seizures.

I was in the grip of a “life downwelling”, and I didn’t know which direction to swim to escape.

A number of things happened to help me along the way

1. I realized that something was wrong
2. I realized I needed to do something about it
3. I hunted high and low to find information and people who could help me understand what was happening
4. Almost by chance, I connected with an excellent neuropsychologist who was able to help me soldier through
5. I just kept going, no matter what

I’m now at a place in my life where I’m back on track. My mountains of debt are gone, my job situation is stable, and I’m able to read again.

And yet, I feel like a stranger to myself.

Technically, I supposed no one really knows themself inside and out. We all delude ourselves to some extent. But with TBI, it feels to me like there are a ton of gaps that I just can’t fill. I don’t even know where to start. It’s like my life is a big hunk of swiss cheese with a lot of holes in it, and I don’t even know the holes are there, till it’s too late. I’m in trouble again.

Anyway, STP helps me get my mind off that. They help me just keep going, even when I’m not feeling up to it. Keeps me swimming — out of the downward spiraling current and up towards safety again. A good dose of heavy guitar and rock lyrics gets me back on track in useful ways.

Gradually, I’m coming back to where I want to be. It takes time. And I need company, along the way. STP is good company. Thanks, guys.

Music is the best company I can think to keep. It’s there when I need it, and I can always turn it off, when I’m done for the day.

Speaking of the day, I’ve got to get on with it. I’ve got a handful of things I need to do today, including resting up. It’s been a long, long week, and I need a break, for sure. I’ll get that break later today after my chores are done, and I can comfortably settle into my bed, pull the covers over my head, and just check out.

Looking forward to it.

But in the meantime, there’s always hard and heavy rock music.

Taking a much-needed break today

So, I had a good session with my neuropsych yesterday. We ended up running pretty late, because there’s a lot to cover. As much as I have rebuilt my basic functionality, I still have work to do on my decision-making.

I may be at a point far beyond what I ever believed possible, in terms of human relationships and daily functioning, but I’m still really lagging, in terms of thinking things through. Prefrontal cortex and all that.

As it turns out, I’ve been making some really dangerous choices. I know I make iffy choices on a regular basis, but a lot of them I haven’t thought through well enough to realize just how dangerous they are. Driving down the road in undriveable conditions… having conversations with self-identified criminals, in relatively secluded areas… jumping on the back of a motorcycle with someone whose skill level I don’t know, and who pulls some extremely dangerous stunts along the way to where we’re going.

Thanks, mild TBI, for making my life so exciting.

Actually, it has made my life very exciting. And there are a lot of things that I’ve experienced, that most people wouldn’t, because their decision-making abilities are much better than mine.

So, yeah. I have some work to do. And when I got home last night, instead of exercising or reading or even watching television, I did a little bit of work to get oriented to a really challenging job I have on my plate. I didn’t overdo it, either. I worked for 45 minutes, while I ate my supper, and then I closed up shop and went to bed.

Smart. For once.

In the past, I would work till midnight, pushing through to make good headway — all the while producing work that was not nearly as excellent as it seemed at the time. I would waste a lot of time. I would also tire myself out more than is healthy, and I would suffer for days after that.

And so would my work.

It’s a multi-part conundrum. First, I’m not thinking things through as well as I might. Second, I get caught up in the work and feel so energized and alive, that I don’t want to stop. Third, I “get in a groove” and stop being responsible about how I use my time and energy. Another component of this, is wanting to wake myself up and feel more alive, feel more like myself, so I stress myself like crazy to get to a state that feels “normal” for me.

The only problem is, my “normal” is everyone else’s extreme.

And that doesn’t help.

So, today, instead of pushing myself to ACCOMPLISH THE IMPOSSIBLE this morning, I’m easing into the day. I worked out pretty thoroughly yesterday, with a longer bike ride than I originally planned, and some good all-around exercise, going pretty close to failure a couple of times. My body needs a break, to rebuild and recuperate, and I need a break to ease into my day. The nice thing is, I got a good night’s sleep last night — close to 8 hours — so although I am feeling foggy and a little dull this morning (and I can’t seem to spell to save my life – thank you spell-check, for helping me), I don’t have that crazy sense of being all jammed up that I often get to.

I really need to take a break. And I’m getting better at it. I’m actually able to consciously relax — which I am doing right now with my breathing and my state of mind and body — and it feels pretty awesome. This is a new skill for me — relaxation. And with practice I get better. So I’d better practice.

Taking a break is not, as I used to think, an interruption. It’s actually a chance for my whole system to catch up with myself. I’ve been juggling intermittently – not daily like I used to – and my skill level is actually improving each time. I don’t have to push myself past my limits every single day, in order to make good progress. If anything, pushing myself, then backing off for a little bit, then coming back to push myself, is working out much better.

And it feels fantastic.

I’m really looking forward to this day.

Onward.

Walking on a different wild side

I’ve been daydreaming about chucking it all and hitting the road. I’ve managed to save up a nice little chunk of change, banking it for house repairs and emergency situations. I actually have enough for an honest-to-God emergency fund now, which hasn’t been the case for close to 10 years. It really takes the pressure off. At the same time, though, it also tempts me to do something rash — like taking my little commuter car (which just got a tune-up), filling up the gas tank, and driving, driving, driving…

But I know it would never work. Never, ever. And without a doubt, I’d end up worse off then, than I am now. No doubt.

Here’s the thing — I need a break from all the heavy-duty daily frustrations. It’s just getting to be too much, and I’m not making good choices about how to get that break. Some people smoke. Some people go on social media. I dance with danger and run the risk of getting injured all over again. It’s clear that I need to change things up and get my blood pumping on a regular basis. I need a positive and productive way to get that adrenaline pump that keeps me sane and channel the energy I have into something that helps me, not hurts me.

That all being said, I think the key for me is to step things up with my hopes and dreams. I have an “old” dream of having my own business doing consulting and training about an area of expertise I have. I know there’s a market for it, and I know others do well in that line of work, I’ve just never made good on it. I have wanted this so badly, on and off over the past years,and I’ve made some starts, here and there. But I’ve repeatedly given up on that dream over and over. I got overwhelmed or confused or just felt like I couldn’t do it. I knew in my mind that I could, but I lost courage and backed off and went back to doing what I had been doing before — holding down the fort with my 9-to-5 job and steady paycheck.

Now things are different, though. I don’t have a horrific commute anymore — if anything, it’s going to get shorter. And I’m becoming increasingly motivated to move forward, as I talk to people about my idea, and they get really excited about it. I have managed to find a job where every day I am in the midst of some very forward-thinking people who are also super supportive, and it’s really doing me a lot of good.

These two magic combinations — time to work on my ideas, and supportive people with vision — are helping me get past myself and re-start anew. I’ve started this idea so many times, I actually have a lot of knowledge about how to get off the ground. And I have enough professional connections, I can start putting myself out there — while still holding down the fort at work.

So, there is hope. And my goal is to earn enough on the side, to be able to afford some travel. That way I don’t have to drive off by myself — I can bring my spouse with me, and we can have a fabulous time. It’s a plan. It’s a bonafide plan.

And rather than wasting my time and energy and risking my neck on danger-seeking types of behavior, I’ll court danger in the form of chasing my dreams and having them come true. Putting my life in danger in questionable situations, and putting it all on the line for my dreams, are the same type of activity. The difference is, one of them will actually have something to show for my risk-taking. The first one… all I get is a system full of adrenaline, a brief burst of clarity, and the potential for things to go really, really wrong in an instant.

So, in a very real sense, my motto continues to be Onward!

After TBI you’re still human

And you still have the same types of interests and desires and needs that you had before your injury/-ies.

You want to be fully engaged. You want to be involved in your life. You want to have hopes and dreams and to follow those hopes and dreams.

Why should any of that change after TBI? Some days, it’s like the world just expects you to stop being interested in the things that mean the most to you — to anyone. Like it should be so easy to let go of the old ways that were so familiar and made you “you“. And you’re just expected to do it. To adjust. To deal with it and move on.

This is something I really struggle with on a regular basis. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the confusion and disorientation and not feeling quite “here”, half the time. It’s bad enough that I have to think through every friggin’ thing that used to come so easily to me, lest I get hurt or screw something up. It’s bad enough that everything feels like such a CHORE, and even the fun things are hard for me to do, sometimes.

But through all this, I’m expected to do it without any recognition or support. That just sux.

Even my neuropsych isn’t much help to me in this respect, because comparatively speaking, I’m not nearly as “bad” as their other patients. I’m high-functioning. My IQ is still up there. I have a good job and a house and all the trappings of modern success. I’m in a stable marriage of 23 years. I have a bank account and a plan for how to live my life.

What could possibly be wrong?

Yeah, well, I’ll spare you the details. The bottom line is, half the time I feel like crap. I don’t feel like myself. I can’t recognize the person who’s walking around in my shoes, wearing my clothes, doing my job, driving my commuter car to and from work each day, running errands on the weekend. Who IS this person, and how did they get in my life?

Addressing this is so difficult for me. I rarely bring it up with my neuropsych, because they don’t really seem to think it’s that big of a deal, and they don’t seem to think it should impact me. After all, compared to their other patients, I’m doing grand.

Oh, except for flirting with danger on a regular basis, and being totally oblivious to what all could go wrong in an instant.

To be truthful, I have not discussed everything with my neuropsych that I could. Over the years, there have been a lot of things I haven’t brought up, because they are way too upsetting for me, and it’s more important to me that I have a regular conversation with a regular person and be able to relax, instead of plunging into that infinite, bottomless black abyss that takes me over when the emotions run too high. I have to stay functional. I have to hold my sh*t together. I can’t be sitting around spilling my guts, and then getting so freaked out and upset that I can’t even see or walk straight. My neuropsych has seen me overwrought a handful of times, and they don’t seem to understand what all is going on with me. They got exasperated, as though I were not trying.

So, I just don’t go there with them. I keep things positive and talk about the progress I’m making. I don’t have many words to explain the way it feels inside. Plus, when I get to their office, I’m ALL THERE, and nothing else outside the office exists. There are so many pieces of my life that feel like a shambles to me, even though on the surface they look good and they are holding, I don’t have much hope that a strong wind wouldn’t blow them all down. In all honesty, I’m not even sure how they’re holding together. They just are. I’m just lucky, in so many ways.

That, and people are so consumed with their own lives, they don’t notice the chinks in my armor.

It all just feels so precarious.

And it’s a strain. Because I want to have a life I can be proud of. I want a life I actually feel like I choose, and I’m involved in, not just one that other people tell me I should have, so I go ahead and go for it.

So much of my life has been about just getting by… because I was the only one who could see what kind of crap I had to deal with inside. And nobody seemed to take seriously the challenges I had to overcome on a regular basis.

Oh well. I’m still here, and I still have my hopes and dreams to follow. I’m still a human being with my fair share of challenges, and I can’t lose sight of that. It’s all a massive discovery process, and in the meantime I might just learn a useful thing or two.

So long as I don’t get myself killed, chasing danger and risk, to remind myself that I’m alive.

How I can get hurt – again and again

Yeah, I’m a bad-ass alright. Hopefully not a short-lived bad-ass.

I had an interesting conversation with my neuropsych yesterday. I have been wondering about some judgments I’ve made, in the past six months or so, which — at the time — seemed fine… but in retrospect were probably not that smart. At least, that’s what my neuropsych has told me.

About six months ago, I was offered a ride on the back of a motorcycle, and I took it. I had to get somewhere fast, and this rider offered me a lift through a shortcut they knew. This rider (I won’t call them a biker, because I think of Harley’s, and this individual was on a BMW) was a stranger to me, and I had no way of knowing how good a rider they were. I’ve ridden with really bad motorcycle drivers before, and I didn’t care to repeat the experience.

But this individual appeared to be competent, and I hopped on the bike behind them.

For the record, I don’t drive motorcycles — or usually ride them — because of balance issues and attention problems. I can get distracted and lose my presence of mind, which pretty much disqualifies me for driving a motorcycle. It’s a great way to get seriously injured… or killed.

Anyway, the shortcut worked, and I got where I was going in record time. But not before we’d pulled some really dangerous stunts — fitting the motorcycle through very tight spots that were borderline illegal, and weaving in and out of traffic at high speeds. The driver also ended up taking a wrong turn, and we ended up driving around a blind curve directly into oncoming traffic — and the bike stalled on a low barrier and couldn’t move forward or back.

So, I hopped off the back, and while the driver got the bike started, I heaved at the back of the bike and got it off the barrier.

Very exciting. And also very dangerous. And potentially fatal.

Once I got where I was going, I realized how close I’d come to something pretty terrible. And worse yet, I was far from home in a place I wasn’t familiar with, and I’m not sure how I would have gotten help if I needed it.

It all turned out okay, and it was a thrilling ride of my life. But it’s not the sort of thing I should have done at that time.

A few months later, I was traveling (again). Near the end of a really long and tiring drive, I ended up at a rest stop where I realized I was being watched by an individual who looked like trouble. I gave them a wide berth, but later they were joined by another individual who looked equally rough, and they tried to engage me in conversation. Rather than keeping my distance, I walked right up to them, shook their hands, and had an extended conversation with them. In the course of the conversation, one of them identified themself as a known criminal. I didn’t bat an eye, just finished the conversation, and they took off… as though they were up to no good and didn’t want to get caught.

In retrospect, I was setting myself up to get mugged. Big-time. I didn’t… and I actually had a really cool conversation with those two. But was it a good idea for me to interact with these two at a rest stop along an interstate? Doubtful.

Then, the other night, I was driving home from work, and I got caught in a torrential downpour, accompanied by close lightning strikes. I could not see the road. At all. I should have pulled over, but I kept going. I could have easily run into a tree — or run into someone else. I didn’t, but even as I was driving, thinking that I might want to pull over, the urge to keep going was even stronger… overpowering. I got home safe and sound, and after sitting in the car for 5 minutes, the downpour suddenly stopped. Everything was fine. But it might not have been.

On all three of these occasions, I was tired, and I was looking for a “hit” of adrenaline to perk me up. I needed a pump — a jolt — to get me going. It didn’t matter that I was putting myself in danger. The whole point was putting myself in danger. I needed to get my stress hormones going and get myself back online. I felt dull and foggy, and I needed a boost.

So, I put myself directly in harm’s way. It worked — I did get the pump and the jolt I needed. But had things gone differently, I might not have fared so well. For that matter, I might not even be here.

Riding motorcycles is something I should NEVER, EVER do. I know that. I have avoided them like the plague — like I avoid tall ladders. Talking to folks who obviously look like they’re up to no good, and going so far as to shake their hands and “hang out”, is not something I typically do, either. I know better. What’s more, driving my car through conditions when I can’t see more than a foot past the hood ornament… I know WAY better than that.

But reason failed me. In a very big way.

And that’s how I can get hurt – again and again. By actively seeking out danger that makes me feel alive… that makes me feel like myself again… that puts all the pain and confusion and frustration away, for even just a few minutes.

My life tends to feel like a jumbled-up mess of contradictions and conflicts, and it’s hard for me to get any peace. I live in a body whose biochemistry tells me things are WAY more extreme than they really are, and as a result, I usually end up on a roller-coaster of emotion. I know better… but my body doesn’t get it. And it wears me out. Mentally and cognitively, my brain loves to do its own thing and not stick with the program. I’ve been forgetting a lot of things, and I’ve been coming up short, now and then, with projects I’ve been working on… playing catch-up and all that. I keep cool and maintain calm on the outside, but inside it’s sometimes pretty chaotic and frustrating and a little bit terrifying now and then.

So on the inside, I’ve got all these experiences of chaos and confusion and frustration, while on the outside, everything is supposedly okay. I know I’m not the only one who has this — most people do, probably. That whole “living lives of quiet desperation” thing that a philosopher once talked about.

That tires me out. And the quickest and most reliable way I know to stay “with it” is to add a little danger to my life. Or a lot of danger.

Looking back, I can see how almost all of my injuries — even from fairly young — came from this danger-seeking streak of mine. I put myself in dangerous situations. I also pushed myself to unsafe levels of play in football and soccer games. I drove while I was tired, and I pushed myself to do things when I should have stopped and rested. I needed the pump, I needed the adrenaline. I needed the shot of instant clarity, in the midst of all the confusion and static in my head, that I just couldn’t sort through.

I didn’t have a death wish. I had a life wish. And the one way I could really truly live my life, was to push myself past a certain point, and get lifted up by the pump.

I know I need to change this sort of behavior. It’s caused problems for me before, in subtle ways, and it’s doing it again. I don’t want to stop being the person I am. I don’t want to cower in a corner, hiding from life. But I would like to live to see another day. I’ll have to figure out something better, for how to get what I need to be as alive as I can be.

If I don’t manage to figure that out, all bets are off.