To be truly free

That old Tom Petty song “Refugee” keeps running through my mind. And for good reason. Recently, a reader named Esai posted the following comment:

Just imagine if our blood was circulating at an even/constant pace through our body,
if your diet was correct and you had the ideal amount of vitamins and minerals your body would the do wonders, repairing damaged tissue, cancers, disease and even more important your BRAIN!. Im no scientist or a religious freak, there are no sinistral motives behind me saying this, i am confident in what i am saying because i know its true. any thing is possible when you put your mind to it.
if anyone should attempt any of what this forum suggests, do it for the right reasons, not just to slow your heart beat, do it to be free and do it to live! We live in a world where we are being controlled, Fun isnt it? They are continually controlling what we think and say, Why do we give them our freedom so easily?
we can control our own body! We control our thoughts! its so simple! Choose life not death, good not evil, positive and not negative.
i my self started controlling what i would think, i was then telling my body to heal itself, ya it didnt happen overnight but its happening, i would go into detail but too much to put in text, we all are the same inside and we all have the same freedom of life, take controll of it before its too late.

That’s powerful stuff, for sure. And it brings me back to myself. It reminds me of where my head has been, all along, over the years. Ever since I was a kid. Ever since I started getting concussions and could not fit in with others the way I had before.

One minute, I fit in, I had a good sense of who I was, and then it was broken into little pieces and taken from me. It was never easy, every single time. And even at a young age, it was very hard to take. Maybe even harder than when I was an adult, because my understanding of myself was still so fragile, and even the smallest change threw me into a crisis of confidence.

And it didn’t just happen once. It happened to me a number of times. I tend to think it should have gotten easier, each time it happened, but it didn’t. The initial shock was still there. The confusion, malaise, the pain of separation from myself and who I knew myself to be… it came back fresh, each time. After the fall down the stairs, after getting knocked out by that rock, after the football injuries, the soccer injuries, the rough-housing injuries, the fall out of the tree… then the car accidents, more falls, and that last fall in 2004. None of it was easy, and none of it made any sense.

Not until the past few years.

Now it does make sense. I understand the mechanisms behind it. I understand the logistics behind it. And I understand how I got from where I was… to where I am now — over and over again. I also understand how to get back from that place and find my footing, which is worth the world to me.

It gives me a real level of comfort, to know I’ve figured it out. So, if I ever get hurt again, I can have some level of confidence that I’ll understand the underlying pieces and be able to put at least some of them back together again.

So, onward.

 

What happened in the field that day

Here’s what I remember:

I was about 8 years old and I was playing up at a field near my family’s house. I was with my younger sibling. The field lay right between two different neighborhoods, and we never went into the other neighborhood by ourselves. We rarely went there at all, period. We were playing about 50-100 feet from the entrance on our side of the field. The line of garages that flanked the alley on the other side of the field were behind us, and we were facing the direction that our one-way street went.

The field was bounded on the other side by a high (maybe 20-foot) chain link fence, and our side was the only “real” entrance to the area.

My sibling and I were there by ourselves for a little while, then two kids appeared on the other side of the field. They crawled under the bottom edge of the fence, slipping through a depression in the ground and looked over at us.

We looked over at them — I’m not sure if we called over to them and said hello. I’m not sure if we even acknowledged their presence.  I suspect we didn’t. The kids weren’t supposed to be there — they had crawled under a fence that was built to keep them out, after all. As I recall, we decided to mind our own business and keep playing.

The kids called over to us a couple of times, but we ignored them and just kept playing. Then they started yelling at us — calling us names. We didn’t respond, and after a while they started throwing rocks at us.

At first the rocks didn’t fall very close to us. It was a bright afternoon, and we wanted to play. We decided we were going to stay put. My sibling wanted to go home and pulled at me to go back home. But I said we needed to stay. Or maybe I just thought that, and my sibling just went along with me. Our dad was really into standing your ground and not backing down from your position, if you were threatened, and I wanted to make my dad proud of me and not give in to bullies. I remember the thought going through my head, that we needed to stand our ground and not just run away.

Several rocks fell closer and closer to us. I think the other kids threw 3 or 4 rocks before they got close. While they were throwing the rocks at us, I remember them laughing and urging each other to get closer. I remember focusing on just ignoring them and not being intimidated by them. It didn’t occur to me that I could be hurt — or maybe I didn’t care?

After a number of times of trying to hit us, they succeeded. I remember the distant feeling of a rock hitting my head — then everything went dark.

The next thing I remember, was looking up to see my sibling sitting beside me, crying. They hovered over me, tears streaming down their face, looking terrified.

I remember being really dazed and foggy as I came to. But I did finally know we needed to go home. The kids on the other side of the field were laughing and cheering that they’d hit me, and when we left the field they were jeering at us. I remember feeling like I’d failed, like I’d given in to being bullied, and I was really disappointed with myself.

I recall being wobbly and woozy on the way home, and my sibling was very upset and crying the whole way there. I was embarrassed by the display of emotion. I wanted to be stoic and take it like a grown-up. I didn’t want to be injured. I didn’t want to be woozy. I didn’t want to be wobbly. And I certainly didn’t want to cry.

When we got home, I remember my sibling telling our mom and dad what had happened. I was embarrassed that I’d been hurt and needed attention, and I was upset that I worried them. I remember Dad telling me to lie down on the couch, and he looked at my head — I don’t remember bleeding — but I recall that I did have a huge lump on my head.

The bump on my head was above my hairline, which made it difficult for my mom and dad to see where I was hurt. The bump was pretty prominent, and they got some ice to put on it, which hurt, because the edges of the ice cubes were hard and felt sharp. I really just wanted to not attract attention and not be fussed over. I just wanted the whole experience to go away, so  wouldn’t worry everyone. My sibling was so upset and crying, our mom had to take them out of the room and get them away from me.

My parents called a friend of theirs who was a registered nurse, and she told them to get a flashlight and check my eyes for any dilation. I seem to remember something about them not being sure if my pupils were dilated or not, but in any case, they had me lie on my left side, facing the back of the couch, and put ice on the bump.

I remember I was so tired, and I wanted to sleep, but my dad made sure I stayed awake. I remember him looking in my eyes several times to see if I had a concussion, and both my parents discussed whether or not I should go to the hospital. If I remember correctly, my dad said he didn’t think I had a concussion, so they didn’t take me.

Things were very foggy for me, after that. And I recall not being allowed to play much, in the coming days.

It wasn’t long after that, that I noticed that the moon was double, when I looked up at it, at night. When I told my parents this, they were alarmed and took me to the eye doctor.

Wrong doctor, I think…

Watching Kung Fu Movies and Wondering…

One of my favorite things to do as a teenager, was watch Kung Fu movies on rainy Saturday afternoons. I had an active childhood, so if the weather was nice, I was usually outside. But on rainy days, the next best thing to be running around raising hell, was watching other people do it — and with poorly synchronized dubbing.

I just loved those movies, and I watched another one last night.. while eating Chinese take-out, which was perfect.

Now, it’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m hankering for watching more.

And thinking back to the movie last night, I remember noticing how very many times people in the movie got hit on the head, smacked in the face, pounded and knocked around. They all got back up immediately, of course, and went right back into the fray. And their characters never seemed to show any sign of diminshed capacity after their rigorously violent battles.

I enjoyed the movie, but I found myself cringing a lot while I watched. Knowing what I know about brain injuries and how even a minor impact can cause larger problems on down the line (which is a lot more than I knew when I was a kid), I have to wonder if it’s really such a good idea to consider that sort of thing “entertainment”.

Still, I must admit that I really do enjoy watching the fighting. The choreography. The physical prowess. The warriorship. It’s very cool. And I have to wonder, at the same time, if head trauma isn’t actually just a part of the human experience that we somehow have forgotten how to accommodate or heal in our modern society.

When I think back about the past 10,000 years of human history, I come across a lot of warfare and conflict… burning and pillaging and pitched battles… invasions and conflicts… many of them hand-to-hand, not conducted at a distance with computers and remote controls. If you think about it, human history is full of head trauma, from the injuries sustained just by working jobs of hard labor — as in, most work that was done, until about 50 years ago, when so many of us migrated to inside work — but from fighting and falls and accidents and warfare that just kept coming in waves and waves of invaders.

Truly, human history has been fraught with head injuries, and the complications therefrom have probably  had a greater impact on our species’ experience than we realize.

That being said, I have to believe that head injuries are meant to be survived. If they weren’t, we’d probably all be dead — or would have never been born.

I mean, think about it — how many soldiers have come back from how many wars, with headaches and cognitive issues and mood disorders and PTSD, and still got re-integrated into society? I can think of a lot of WWII and Korean War veterans who did. In fact, I suspect that the elder generation of soldiers had a far higher incidence of head injury than they let on. But because of their cultural training and expectations, they didn’t let on. I’ve known WWII veterans who — upon close scrutiny — had the hallmarks of TBI. And yet, they participated in society, married, raised kids, had careers…

And how many children throughout history were beaten by other kids or adults, or had falls or accidents… sustained head injuries, went on to lead regular lives? Lots and lots, I believe.

Like the fighters who were on my t.v. screen last night, I’m quite sure that many, many people throughout history have had head injuries, but continued on in spite of them. Some may have fared better than others — I’m sure of it. But they fared. Hit on the head or not, they fared.

And so do I.

But still, I don’t go looking for a fight.

And I can’t help but cringe, when someone lands a hard punch and knocks someone out.