We “lost” an hour today. It’s my least favorite experience in the world, almost. I need my hours,and I need my sleep, and when the clock “springs forward”and deprives me of a precious hour, that doesn’t make me happy.
Oh, well.You’d think after all this time, I’d be used to it. I’ve had 40-some opportunities to practice.
But it’s still no easier than it was last year.
Or is it? Actually, I think it is. I’ve accepted the fact of the experience. I’m not fighting it. I’m just kind of resigned to the whole thing — which seems to be where my head is at, these days — resignation and acceptance of basic unpleasant facts of life and the urge to just hole up somewhere and putter around my house, hammering the odd nail and painting the odd wall.
Back beforem y fall in2004,I was totally into fixing up my house. It came in move-in ready condition, so not a lot had to be done, but there were still somethings that needed to be tended to. The insulation in the attic had to be replaced. I did that. The walk-up to the attic needed a door built to keep the warm air downstairs and the cold air in the attic. I did that. The basement needed shelves and organization, and there were some things around the outside of the house that needed fixing. I did that, too. It was a big part of my life and who I believed myself to be.
A weekend construction/remodel warrior.
I was really proud of that, and I dove into being a part of the community around me, joining a board in town and chatting with the neighbors while doing yard work.
After I fell, all that went away, and I disappeared into a haze of confusion and anxiety. I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t understand what they were saying to me, I couldn’t remember what we were talking about. And I couldn’t figure out what to fix on the house. So, things went slowly south… which brings me to where I am now, fixing things that I let go for the past 10 years or so.
Anyway, now I’m back, and I’m feeling much more like the person I want to be. I’m tired a lot, and I don’t have the same kind of spark around it, that I used to, but at least that part of me is back. And it’s good.
I just wish it hadn’t taken so long to come around.
But I guess that’s just how much time it takes, sometimes. And frankly, I’m lucky that I’ve come around at all. Make no mistake — I have worked my ass off, and I have made recovery from TBI a top priority in my life, pushing so much else out of the way. So, it’s not all luck. But in some cases — like the fact that I live within an hour’s drive (on a good day) of a major city with top neuropsychological care — I did get lucky.
What would I have done, had I NOT been near a city? What would I have done, had I NOT seen this neuropsych for all these years? I would have started this blog, anyway, and who’s to say I wouldn’t have come just as far? Having someone to talk to, who knows about TBI and its after-effects has certainly been helpful. At the same time, there’s the internet, and there’s Give Back with their Give Back – TBI Self-Therapy Guide which really got me going in the right direction. So, who can say?
All I know is, it feels like it’s been way too long for me… and I’m more eager to get back, than I’ve got energy for. It takes time — it takes a lot of time — to get on the good foot again, and it can be terribly frustrating.
Funny, things didn’t used to feel this difficult, way back when.
Because they weren’t. Now, it seems as though everything is harder. And I guess it is. Oh, well.
I really need to get out of the house. I worked indoors all day yesterday, and I’ve been cooped up at work at a desk, head-down, doing crap that’s piled up because people have left the company, or are leaving, or don’t feel like doing their job because their friends are going away. Sigh.
I need a break from the compulsive busy-ness (I may write a little rant later about bosses expecting their direct reports to be just as neurotic as they are… or I may not). I need to take a long walk.
Finish my coffee.
Put my coat on.
Hit the back roads, taking whatever time I can.