Flash in the (brain) pan

Perhaps one of the biggest and most persistent issues I’ve had with MTBI over the years — and I mean all the years, starting when I was a kid (I had my first TBI when I was 7) — is uninvited and unexplained anger.

Like a storm it comes, barrelling across the plains inside my head… like a tornado dropping suddenly from a swirling dark-cloudy sky. Touching down unpredictably and tearing across my inner landscape, ripping up trees and houses as it goes… sending cars and cows and tractors flying through the air… snaking and twisting and turning and doubling back across its own path, a demon in flight…

Like a wildfire, it flares up. A late summer California brush fire that needs only a shift in the winds to send it screaming voraciously across the proverbial fields inside my head. When I am tired, when I am frustrated, when I am out of resources, the inside of my head — and heart — is like a dry grassy field that’s seen no rain for months. The tall grasses are parched and just waiting for a spark to burst into flame. The sappy pines are ready and waiting for heat to make them explode. And the wide steppes inside my head roar and rush with the winds that kick up at a moment’s notice.

When that spark comes — something as small as a dropped potato peeler, or something as significant as being pulled over by a police officer — it touches to the kindling in my head, and flames shoot out in every direction. And when the winds of my thoughts kick up, the fire can flare up with maddening speed and race up-down-left-right, flames finding their way into the nooks and crannies of my psyche. And there is nowhere I can feel genuinely safe. There is nowhere that I can know others are safe from my sudden sharp tongue.

“Anger” is too simple a word for it. “Temper” hardly does it justice. It’s a force of nature. And when it’s at its worst, it’s a natural disaster.

It’s insane. The smallest thing can set me off, given the right conditions. I might be tired. Or I might be confused. Or I might be feeling vulnerable and stupid and slow. I might feel threatened. I might feel nothing in particular. But suddenly, without warning, there is something else in the room with me that I know I need to control. Manage. Keep on top of. Not let get out of hand. Yes, control.

So, I dig in trench lines. I set bounding fires. I do what I can… and pray for the winds to die down and this sudden fire to pass.