Update: Give Back Orlando
is back! But the post below addresses a larger issue which remains problematic.
June 6, 2009 – Give Back Orlando’s Site is Gone
At least, when I go to http://www.givebackorlando.com/, I get the following message:
Directory Listing Denied
This Virtual Directory does not allow contents to be listed.
The message shows up on the other pages of theirs I’ve bookmarked. And I’m crestfallen. Because I really really wanted to have them as a regular resource. And now they’re gone.
Any of these could have happened:
- they got so much traffic (from bots or from real people) that their server complained and went down and the person in charge hasn’t noticed yet and rebooted
- they attracted attention from people who didn’t like what they had to say, who made them take it all down
- they attracted attention from people who had ownership and copyright of some of the content there, who made them take the site down
- they started getting all sorts of questions and comments and flood of info requests from outsiders that it got to be an overwhelming PITA
- the folks who belong to the group didn’t want the rest of the world privy to their stuff, so they had someone hide it from outsiders
- they aren’t in the assistance business beyond Orlando, and they got too much outsider input/feedback for the site to make any sense, or
- some other thing we’ll never know about.
Whatever the reasons, it’s a pity that the site is gone. I’m still using the material, and I do find it helpful (so far). But it’s a shame that I can’t get to them anymore.
This disappearance is really emblematic/symptomatic of a lot of the head injury help resources I’ve seen around – they start out strong, then they get overwhelmed/-ing, and their work is just not sustainable. Either they get too big too quickly, or they don’t plan for expansion, or they just don’t have the bandwidth for the mounting tasks, or they are using tools that make the job harder than it has to be (like starting a whole website with rich media and interactivity and snazzy design, instead of a humble blog) … or, it turns out to be a very different effort, in the long run, than they envisioned it at the start.
I see this all the time with TBI blogs. No judgment on TBI bloggers, to be sure. Heck, it happened to me, when I first started this blog. If you look at my posting history, you see a flurry of activity for the first month or so, then silence for nearly a year, before the motivation started kicking in again.
It’s wild, doing the TBI blogging. You start out all fired up and wanting to make a difference in the world by sharing your amazing story, then you get hammered with all this info overload — from within and without. Not only do you get completely swamped by the many varieties of information out there and trying to parse it all out and make sense of it all, but you also get overwhelmed by all this internal self-realization that comes up, and you realize more and more how less and less capable you are in respects you once thought were ironclad, and you start to wonder if maybe you’ve revealed too much about yourself too soon and maybe that might prevent you from finding and keeping a job… and/or friends… and/or your hard-won position in society… and you have to drop back to find out where you really stand. You have to figure out who your audience really is, and why you want to talk to them in the first place.
After soul-searching and plumbing the depths of your experience, you end up either totally fed up and just wanting to quit … or… committed and motivated and eager to just move forward, even if it’s not perfect, even if you don’t have all the answers, even if it means that you’re going to have to make it a huge priority in your life and bump it to the top of your to-do list, each and every day, sometimes at the expense of other things that need to be done but will just have to wait.
A lot of people never get to that committed point. I suspect it’s because they get into it too soon. A lot of TBI survivors, from what I’ve heard, have a tendency to over-reach in the first months of their recoveries, and take on things that they don’t yet realize they cannot do. That happened to me, after my last TBI — I was taking on way too much, but at the same time, I was getting next to nothing done. I thought I was moving and shaking, but I was spinning my wheels in place, and it took losing several jobs and a lot of money to get me to pay attention to what was going on with me… and that was without the benefit of any formal rehab.
I would imagine that people who get formal rehab may consider themselves capable in different ways — having been shown tools and been given training, they may overestimate their autonomous capabilities… and end up either flaming out or getting into jams that are demoralizing and/or embarrassing and are in any case real disincentives to keep going.
It’s always unfortunate when this dropping out happens, but I think it goes with the territory of TBI. Especially MTBI, which is one of those pesky hidden disabilities that can depress the living hell out of you, if you dwell on it too much. If the focus of your online work is to educate people about the kinds of problems that accompany mild traumatic brain injury and you want to talk about solutions, it can be mighty difficult, because there are so many confusing problems to talk about… and MTBI makes finding workable solutions to sticky problems difficult, because in order to figure out solutions, you have to know what the problem is, and your mildly TBI’ed brain isn’t always up to that task — and when it thinks it is, sometimes it’s not.
And then there’s the existential angst… If you’ve got an injured (okay, let’s be honest, damaged) brain, what right do you have to talk about anything? Especially with any level of expertise? Isn’t one of the requirements of expertise and authority, having a fully functional brain? Who are you to talk about it? Aren’t you a patient, after all? A victim? A survivor? Someone who is at a disadvantage, cognitively, who can’t even get through the day, sometimes, without making a mess of everything? Who are you to talk about TBI? Shouldn’t that be left to the experts?
But the experts are either few and far between, or they are otherwise occupied — especially with TBI, where the moderate and severe forms are a lot more interesting and dramatic than the “mild” kind, and they can get actual numbers and data on the impacts and effects. So, unless you talk about your (M)TBI, who’s going to? Who’s going to speak to the millions of people out there who suffer supposedly mild injuries to their brains, but find themselves increasingly incapacitated through the course of their lives and are so utterly, totally alone in a world that is far more interested in money-making injuries that render quantifiable data? Who’s going to speak to them? You?
So, there’s the quandary and conundrum. You want to help. And you want to share. But the more you try to share, the more keenly aware you are of your limitations and difficulties, and if you dwell on them too deeply (even if for the sake of helping others see that they’re not alone), you can end up in this TBI vortex of criticsm and self-doubt and self-assessment that goes nowhere, because in the process of examining yourself with a fine-tooth comb, you’re seriously wearing yourself out and making yourself even less cognitively viable.
So, the downward cycle continues. And some people never pull out of it. Just check online. Inactive TBI blogs abound. And now you know (part of the reason) why.
That being said, I’m collecting links to information from trusted sources which are funded and organized and whose purpose is to educate the outside world. I’m going to start with the Brain Injury Associations of different states. I’ll start at Alabama and end up at Wyoming, to make it easy on myself.
Because good help for TBI shouldn’t be this hard to find.